Not A Thing You Get To Choose

This Is Far More Than A Trick

    "While you're here, do you mind if I ask if there's a boy that comes here?" Sherlock asked quietly, a little bit timid to disclose his interest. The woman's eyes sparkled, however, as if she was ever so happy to play matchmaker (platonically, at least in her mind).
"You're going to have to elaborate I'm afraid." The woman said with a laugh.
"Oh yes, sorry. Um, kind of short, with blonde hair, brown eyes..."
"Name?" the woman wondered.
"Ya he's got a name." Sherlock agreed stupidly. Thankfully the woman thought this was another joke, for she broke out into rather annoying laughter while Sherlock nervously chuckled along.
"I mean what's his name? That might help." she teased. Sherlock nodded, clearing his throat and wondering if John would approve of his throwing the name around.
"John Watson." Sherlock muttered quietly, deciding that it was better to find out if John even went here before he started worrying about disclosing his identity.
"Well, yes actually. In fact he's here tonight, sitting over at the table over there." The woman said proudly, nodding off towards John's direction and giving Sherlock's heart a fresh pair of wings, for it flew so powerfully into his rib cage that he almost fell towards the counter in delight. Sherlock looked desperately at the table in the direction of the woman's gaze, and saw as promised John's golden head sitting craned over a mug of beer, sitting with another boy who was talking at him rather than with him. Sherlock smiled proudly, however he knew that he couldn't approach him, no not yet. He could only hope that John would notice him, just in case he didn't want to talk, so that Sherlock didn't have to embarrass himself by making the first move.
"Oh, oh yes. That's him." Sherlock breathed, a smile trying to break out on his face as his cheeks grew hot in excitement. The woman looked at him oddly; however she was smiling as well, obviously deciding that she had come across the most peculiar boy in this whole pub.
"What's you interest in him?" she wondered with a smile, as if she already knew the answer.
"We're friends, I think." Sherlock admitted with a smile, staring down at his mug so as to avoid giving away any secrets through his eyes.
"Friends huh? Then why don't you go up to him?" She wondered with a tilt of her head.
"He looks busy, I um, I don't want to intrude." Sherlock said quickly. The woman laughed, almost as if she found his nervousness to be adorable, and looked over at John's table once more.
"Ya he's cute, isn't he?" she wondered with a grin.
"I um, well I haven't noticed." Sherlock lied quickly. She hummed in obvious disbelief, watching him as Sherlock made a point to keep his eyes down still.
"Want me to go pass a message on then? If you're too afraid to talk to your friend?" she offered.
"No that's not necessary, no." Sherlock assured. The woman nodded, giggling as if she knew exactly what was going on here.
"You know I've seen that kid turn down a lot of women before, lots. But I know the signs; I've been around people in love for ages." The woman assured with an air of excitement in her voice. Sherlock's cheeks glowed ever the more red, as he began to decipher that sentence into something of an accusation rather than a casual statement.
"Love? Who's...who's in love? Surely not me. I'm not in love." Sherlock said quickly, his eyes darting up to meet the woman's in horror, wondering how she could have possibly discovered his secret in the whole of thirty seconds.
"Well of course you are! Oh come on then, getting all flustered, too nervous to go over there? Friends is a very likely cover story, but it's not going to convince me. I'm an expert." She said proudly.
"No, honestly we're just friends. I haven't known him very long; I'm just a little bit intimidated that's all." Sherlock murmured.
"Wow, I've heard of homosexuals but I've never met one before. You're truly fascinating, what's your name?" she asked excitedly, to which Sherlock just shook his head, not listening after that suggested word, that horrific word. It was too much of a title; it was far to criminal for his tastes. Going under that word made him not a lover but a sinner, at least in this world. Homosexual was a word that was never rolled off of the respectable person's tongue, nor was it even thought about in the mind of a rich man. It was wrong, and so Sherlock made himself think of himself not as a homosexual, but as a lover. That was all, a lover of the...unique.
"No I'm not, trust me I'm very much not a..."
"Oh I get it. In denial, I get it." she assured with a smile. "But it's fine, you know I'm very accepting of all people, I've been around so many different people that nothing surprises me anymore. I'm Janine by the way, in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't." Sherlock assured quietly, however they shook hands and she laughed once more as if he thought that he was joking again. He wasn't, of course, but she didn't need to know that.
"Well alright then, if you need me I'll be behind the bar." She said with a smile, and with that she disappeared and left Sherlock alone once more. He couldn't help but suspect that he had somehow driven her away with his apparent rudeness, however he wasn't trying to be insensitive, he was just trying to keep his secrets to himself. Surely privacy wasn't too much to ask for in a place like this? Sherlock continued to sip at his beer, and he was actually getting somewhere with it when someone appeared in the chair next to him. Sherlock ignored the man, however out of the corner of his eye he could see that the new stranger was staring directly at him. Sherlock pretended not to notice, however it was certainly difficult to ignore a man who seemed to intently fixed on him.
"Alright you, John's just gone off to the bathroom so we haven't much time." the boy started. Sherlock blinked in confusion, wondering if his new company was just an alcohol induced hallucination, despite his only drinking about one third of the mug.
"What...what? Who are you?" Sherlock asked quickly, trying to retreat from the boy as he pulled some sort of pouch from his pocket. He was about Sherlock's age, presumably, wearing the neat little uniform of someone in university and stinking of a rich kid. He was young yet he had flecks of gray already appearing in his hair, yet he wore it well, he wore it as if it was something to be proud of. His face was kind and had deep smile lines, as if he spent most of his life laughing. That was a pleasure that only rich kids have, and so that only confirmed Sherlock's original impressions.
"Doesn't matter who I am, it matters who you are. He's been staring at you all night, and I assume if you were a friend he wouldn't approached, and if you were family he would've left. And I saw you look at him just now and you didn't approach either, and so that only leaves one thing." the boy said monotonously, as if he really didn't care what was going on, he was acting like this was some sort of once in a lifetime opportunity. Sherlock was still very much confused, and even more so when the boy began to pull coins out of his little pouch, lots of coins.
"What are you doing?" he wondered quickly, feeling almost attacked as the boy continued to dump out pound upon pound from his bag.
"There's twenty pounds there." He said in a very businesslike fashion, pushing them towards Sherlock and looking at him intensely with what looked like grey eyes.
"Why are you giving me twenty pounds?" Sherlock wondered nervously, not daring to even look at the money for he was much too bewildered to accept that it was now his.
"Well obviously you've got to get over there, do whatever it is you do." The boy insisted. Sherlock stared at him blankly; however the boy didn't seem amused, almost as if he thought Sherlock's confusion was some sort of act.
"I'm sorry, I really am, I'm just so lost right now." Sherlock admitted with a blink. Merlin shuffled on his shoulder, digging his little talons into Sherlock's skin as if to encourage him to back away.
"Look, I don't want to have to explain it to you, I'll just give you a fair warning that John's, well...he's never really been with anyone before. So if you could just go lightly on him, at least for the first time you know? Just show him a good time, because this poor thing's been moping around forever. Ah, here he is, I'll just excuse myself, you can come over whenever. Just don't mention me!" the boy said quickly, and just like that he darted from the counter and back to his table, nearly falling into his chair and crossing his legs in an attempt to look causal. Sherlock caught a mere glimpse of John out of the corner of his eye, however he turned away quickly so as not to be noticed, staring down at the large pile of shining coins that sat before him. Twenty pounds...and for what?
"Does he want me to do a magic trick?" Sherlock muttered confusedly to Merlin, who merely hopped off his shoulder and onto the bar excitedly. When he glanced back at the table in which the boy had ran off to he found that John was sitting alone, two glasses on the table and yet only one boy seated in the chairs. Sherlock pushed the coins into his own little leather pouch, a pouch that was now considerably fuller, and dropped it safely into his pocket for now. He intended on returning it, for he honestly had no idea what he had been paid to do. Show him a good time...well what on earth could that mean?
"You don't suppose I should go over there?" Sherlock whispered to Merlin, who was now pecking at the mug of beer as if expecting to get a taste of it through the thick glass. Obviously the bird held no answer, and Sherlock craned his neck ever so discreetly, looking off towards where John was still seated. Maybe it was some form of drunkenness that gave him the confidence, that or it was that strange boy's payment not moments before, or maybe it was just this do or die atmosphere that was surrounding him in this pub, either way Sherlock decided that he ought to just go for it. John wasn't going to sit there forever, and this might be Sherlock's last chance to make a move, most likely his first and last night out on the town. This was it, so what was he doing here, just stalling? Sherlock took a deep breath, leaving a pound on the counter for the waitress to collect for the beer and tip before taking a large swig of beer (one that really scalded his throat as it went down) and hopped out of his chair eagerly. This time he swayed, just a little bit, was he made his way over through the crowd. He was feeling much braver than he might have felt sober, and the closer he drew to John the faster his heart beat, and the faster his legs began to move. And then before he knew it he had fallen into the chair opposite of John, replacing the strange boy with the gray eyes, and watched John with large blue eyes.
"Sherlock, oh my goodness!" John exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his chair as he saw that someone had materialized before him. Sherlock smiled guiltily, momentarily forgetting his bravery as he waited for John to push him away, to scold him for daring to sit without invitation, and shoo him out in disgust. And yet John smiled, an expression that even drunk Sherlock couldn't have hoped for, he smiled and his cheeks went a little bit red. It was, of course, the first time they had seen each other in person since the truth had come out, and suddenly it was a lot harder for them to look each other in the eyes, for they only saw uninterrupted desire and it was becoming far too much in a place like this. Love was in the air, daringness was in the smoke, they were inhaling and drinking courage every moment they spent in this pub, surely nothing bad could amount from that?
"Well what is a boy like you doing in a place like this?" Sherlock teased, leaning forward ever more, rather like he saw the woman at the bar do, for he could only assume it was a form of flirtation. John just smiled, still averting eye contact as he pushed his bangs nervously from his forehead, as if to correct his looks before daring to be in Sherlock's spotlight.
"I might ask you the same thing." John defended.
"Oh it really is a story, an odd one at that." Sherlock admitted with a heavy sigh. "It keeps getting more peculiar by the minute." He assured. Merlin now made his way over to John, chirping in delight as the boy stuck out a finger and pet him ever so gently on the head.
"You think me peculiar?" John wondered. Sherlock just smiled, shrugging in agreement.
"I think the two of us together are peculiar, at least in the eyes of those who couldn't understand." Sherlock admitted. John finally looked up at him, his smile fading as he tried to understand just what Sherlock was saying.
"In some aspects, maybe." John agreed, his brown eyes growing so large and admirable that Sherlock almost had to force himself to look away.
"In some aspects." Sherlock murmured quietly, staring down at the table for a moment so as to level his breathing and bring his face down to the attractive shade of paleness it usually resided in. Certainly he couldn't look at John glowing red like a tomato, which would be more frightening than desirable.
"Are you drunk?" John wondered curiously.
"Drunk...drunk? Well maybe just a little bit. I've never had a drink before, nothing like this at least. I didn't have much but um, well maybe not much is a lot for someone like me." Sherlock admitted with a giggle. John laughed as well, gazing upon Sherlock with such emotion that it was almost overwhelming.
"You're cute when you're drunk." John decided finally.
"Oh, I'm not cute all the time then?" Sherlock challenged with an accusing side eye.
"You're cute all the time." John assured with a grin. Sherlock nodded in satisfaction, for he knew that was the right answer, and John just smiled back. Sherlock looked about the pub quietly; noticing that whatever couples there were sitting at the tables had a much more romantic get up. Some had candles burning romantic firelight between them, while others had flowers arranged rather haphazardly in a vase. However none seemed to be quite as in love with each other as John and Sherlock were, none wore that look of utmost longing, upmost infatuation.
"Do you think we should get a candle too?" Sherlock suggested, looking at a young girl and a university boy giggling together over a soft open flame. It seemed to lighten the mood, and of course Sherlock and John were completely deprived.
"No of course not, that would only make..." John's sentence was interrupted, however, when Sherlock pulled whatever was left of John's company's alcohol to him, swishing it around in the glass in anticipation.
"Now take note, my dear, as this is always a crowd pleaser." Sherlock said excitedly, looking around nervously before holding up his finger to his lips and blowing very gently. John watched in fascination, his eyes lighting up as the tip of Sherlock's finger ignited in a soft, gentle flame. It didn't burn him of course; however John winced as if he expected Sherlock's flesh to begin to melt. Sherlock then dipped his finger quickly into Greg's alcohol, vodka presumably, and it suddenly ignited into a brilliant flame. John flung back in panic, however Sherlock willed the flame grow stronger, and burn longer. And with that they had a wonderful little candle on the table, soft and romantic enough to throw those flickering firelight shadows upon their beautiful faces.
"There's no way that's a trick." John murmured, and Sherlock just winked at him before pushing the candle a little bit closer.
"It's beautiful either way." Sherlock assured with a gleam in his eye, watching as John's lips tightened, as if he was trying to refrain from saying something, trying to hold back from doing something. And of course Sherlock felt the very same thing, he felt like they were nearing the edge of a great drop off, dining on the edge of a cliff, and very soon, within minutes, they would tumble into the abyss. For they were on the edge of unprecedented achievement, Sherlock simply didn't know what it was. He felt like a spring, wound up and compressed, waiting for that magical moment where he might release, waiting for the okay to relax and just...go with it. And it was coming, oh it was coming.
"I've been enjoying your notes." John started, leaning forward so that their hands were mere centimeters apart, so close that if Sherlock extended his finger he might be able to just brush against John's...
"Oh you have then? Reading them I hope?" Sherlock presumed with a grin.
"Reading them over and over, I cannot get enough. They're beautiful, and the mere fact that you wrote them makes them all the more irresistible." John admitted in a captivated breath, staring at Sherlock as if it was too much effort to blink, as if it was too costly to just look at the darkness for a split second, a second he might have enjoyed while staring at the beautiful companion that sat across the table.
"Irresistible, that's not a word I would have expected to hear from you." Sherlock murmured.
"No, don't think I'm literate enough?" John whispered.
"Not that, I just didn't think you were...daring enough. Never once in your letters did you actually admit it." Sherlock pointed out tauntingly. John tried to pulled a confused face, tried to press his hand to his chest as if he didn't even know what he was being accused of.
"Admit what?" he asked with a taunting little grin. Sherlock simply leaned forward ever more, his hands so close to John's that their knuckles now overlapped, that mere brush of contact sending shivers up and down both of their spines.
"Well admit that you were in love with me, of course." Sherlock breathed. John stared at him, too overwhelmed now to speak, freezing as if he thought that if he dared to move a muscle he might move too much, he might spring across the table and take Sherlock where he was...
"In love with you? What an absurd idea?" John laughed, however there was that teasing glare, Sherlock saw it in his eyes. Merlin cawed threateningly, and John just smiled, he smiled so sweetly.
"It's not absurd." Sherlock corrected. John just hummed, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't know yet if he really was in love with Sherlock or not. He tried to act almost as if this was some game, some magic trick. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tolerate, knowing that they were so close...and yet so far.
"I remember Sherlock, when I asked you if you were ever in love." John pointed out.
"I said I didn't know yet." Sherlock agreed in a breath, finishing John's sentence before he had the chance to. John nodded for a moment, leaving Sherlock suspended in tangible anticipation.
"Yes you did, you did say that. And now...now I'll ask you again Sherlock." John said slowly, as if he was trying to map this out, trying to make it easy to understand, as if he was coaching a child through the very preliminary human emotions.
"You know the answer." Sherlock insisted quickly.
"I'll ask you again." John repeated, his fingers brushing ever so softly against Sherlock's hands, sending sparks and shivers, Sherlock almost thought he saw a spark of electricity as it moved up his shirt, almost like a firecracker ignited through their touch. He could hardly breathe, now with this proximity, he couldn't do much else but ease closer, his eyes lost so wondrously in John's, he couldn't do much except gaze and hope...
"Sherlock, have you ever been in love?" John wondered carefully. Sherlock took a sharp inhale, for John's fingers had now completely engulfed his folded hands, he felt as though whatever confidence that he had once harbored was now completely drained, he was sitting here like a gasping fish, unaware of what to say, unsure of what to do.
"Just um...just this once." Sherlock breathed. John nodded, taking Sherlock's hand in his own, lifting it carefully from the table all while carefully avoiding the flames they had created in the vodka, still burning strong. John was looking at Sherlock's hand and Sherlock could now hardly move, he was so entranced in John's touch, waiting on his next move, waiting on his next breath!
"Yes, yes that's what I expected." John agreed quietly. Very slowly he pulled Sherlock's fingers to his lips, bending them ever so softly and kissing his knuckles, kissing them with lips so soft, lips Sherlock could only imagine might kiss his own. Sherlock closed his eyes, letting out the breath he had been holding in since he had walked over here, easing towards John so carefully, a kiss so gentle yet so seductive.
"And now Sherlock, tell me Sherlock, have you ever been with anyone?" John whispered, his words being spoken so close to Sherlock's fingers that he could feel the movements of John's lips and the puffs of breath associated with every word. Sherlock's eyes still couldn't open; he couldn't bear to look at the man that sat so close!
"I've...I've never..." Sherlock couldn't even finish his sentence, he couldn't even breathe, he was so utterly enchanted, he couldn't believe he was wasting time with talk, meager talk, agonizing conversation!
"Take your time, my dear." John whispered. Sherlock forced his eyes open, just to be sure that he didn't melt right here in John's hands, so that he didn't fall over the table in his helplessness! It was as if he was made of clay, slowly losing his form, being molded in the words and the hands of another, being conformed and sinking so helplessly into their palms, twisted in their grasp... John was staring at him, feeding on his power instead of melting in it, he knew that he had Sherlock entirely in his hands; he knew that whatever was coming was imminent, he just knew that a couple more seconds of conversation wouldn't kill the mood. In fact all it would do was add fuel to the fire, the fire that a mere brushing of their lips would ignite!
"Not yet." Sherlock breathed, clutching onto John's hand in hopes that he might kiss him once more. John just hummed in agreement, nodding his head with his eyes ever fixed on Sherlock's, Sherlock's that were slowly beginning to droop once more. But not with exhaustion, no, with anticipation, with helplessness!
"No, no indeed Sherlock. Not yet." John agreed carefully.