Let Us All Make History

If You Can't Manage, Try Anyway

    "Sherlock, Victor said there was a problem?" Molly wondered in a bit of an exasperated voice, almost as if she couldn't believe they were still quarreling on her most magical night.
"Yes there's a problem, John's not coming over here." Sherlock whined.
"Well of course he's not, he's with Mary." Molly insisted.
"Do you think they're getting...close?" Sherlock wondered nervously. Molly sighed heavily, grabbing a drink of punch while she pondered the answer to that question.
"Well she's all over him; I'm not entirely sure how keen he is." Molly admitted, however she sounded as if she was making that up for Sherlock's own good, almost as if she was having a hard time believing her own lie.
"That's not a good sign." Sherlock decided miserably.
"Well maybe if you put an optimistic approach..."
"No Molly, it's not good! Not good." Sherlock snapped, to which Molly just threw up her hands in defeat, looking almost as if she didn't know what Sherlock wanted from her.
"Fine, alright then Sherlock. What do you want me to do about it?" Molly demanded, taking a long sip of the punch before gasping for air, almost as if she was drowning in it.
"I don't know. Victor, any suggestions?" Sherlock wondered, looking to the boy who had been sitting there docile and silently, just as he should be when he wasn't being addressed.
"Well we need to get him out of the crowd, obviously. From there Sherlock could summon him, that won't be too difficult. Maybe he's having a hard time getting away." Victor suggested.
"Molly, maybe you could convince Greg and his friends to get drinks, suggest they try the punch." Sherlock suggested tactically, nodding his head in agreement while Molly sighed heavily.
"Oh alright, that could work. But that's it, alright? I'm not here to cater to your fantasies, you boys do your own thing and I'll do mine." Molly insisted, however she nodded finally and threw her cup into the trash (like a normal citizen would do) and started her way back to the dance floor. Sherlock wasted no time getting ready, commanding Victor to hold his pocket mirror all while he fixed his hair, pursed his lips, and did all that he could so as to make sure he looked breathtaking. This would be his only opportunity, it would seem, and so he had to make it perfect. The first thing Sherlock did when he made sure he reflection was perfect was send Victor away, and this time the boy actually cooperated. Sherlock had noticed those red caped boys already meandering to the edge of the dance floor, almost as if they wanted to make themselves more available to Victor when he finally decided to join them. It was rather disturbing, for Sherlock had no idea what they wanted from Victor and yet he was sure whatever it was the boy wouldn't protest. He was such a push over romantic, and it was concerning to say the least considering he hadn't had a proper boyfriend before. And yet this wasn't the problem at hand, no Victor's romantic struggles were the last thing on Sherlock's mind; it was John that was worrying him! Molly was taking quite a while, was she having trouble tearing him away? Maybe they would wait until the end of the song...yes that must be it. Sherlock positioned himself near the doors, leaning against the stone and standing right underneath some articular icicles. He was rather worried for their structural integrity, for he might lose his head if they decided to come loose, however they would be a welcome escape to the mess he had made of his life thus far. Maybe if he died John would finally realize he loved him, weeping over his casket like a newly created widow... The song ended and Sherlock leaned mournfully against the wall, wanting John to look over at him and see nothing but a lonely, helpless boy that radiated nothing but absolute beauty. As promised the crowd spit out the small group, boys with their girls on their arms, all laughing and swaying happily. Molly was there with Greg, the two of them looking like they were already best friends, and there was John and Mary. Sherlock watched them solemnly, and there was John, he was looking around as if for someone...for Sherlock of course! Sherlock didn't know if he should look or not, and so he decided that he should do some of both. He watched John until finally their gazes met, and as soon as they locked eyes Sherlock looked away, hastening to the door and pressing up against the stone. That was the invitation, and now this would determine if he accepted! This was the critical moment, if John didn't come over tonight at this very moment he would never come over at all! All would be lost, and whatever hopes Sherlock had of ever getting him on his arm would be pointless, destroyed! This was crucial, and if Sherlock could not summon John now then he ought to just hurl himself into the depths of the Black Lake and stay there! Sherlock glanced over where John had been standing with Mary to find the girl standing alone, chatting to Janine...her date missing? Sherlock looked around immediately, fear striking in his heart along with a mad sense of hope, of ludicrous excitement! Ah, and there he was, he was coming this way! Sherlock straightened up nervously, watching John as he approached, the boy was smiling and yet Sherlock's face was still and serious, resembling that of a marble bust set in a measure to be admired. John loomed nearer and nearer yet Sherlock could not think of a single thing to say, what greeting was appropriate to what Sherlock was setting up here? John was here...what now?
"I was wondering when we'd cross paths." John said with a bit of a smile, holding a glass of punch with one hand as his eyes did a quick and rather guilty scan of Sherlock standing there in all his radiance.
"We didn't cross paths; we adapted them to fit in with each other's. You came to me, John, it was no accident." Sherlock murmured, making it sound as though he was not completely ecstatic at the boy's materialization. In fact his heart was so excited that this had worked that he forgot it was the first time he saw John since the kiss and miss. John seemed rather uncomfortable and yet okay with it, almost as if he was happy to be standing here in Sherlock's presence rather than terrified.
"Alright then, I shall rephrase. I was wondering when I'd see you." John corrected.
"Yes that adequately fits the situation." Sherlock agreed with a sigh. John smiled at him and yet Sherlock's face had still not twitched, he was veering closer; he knew that John was tempted.
"You look um...well you look beautiful of course." John offered, gesturing to Sherlock's choice of robes as finally the boy's face broke into a small, appreciative smile.
"Well you look quite dashing yourself." Sherlock agreed. John was sporting simple black dress robes, something like Victor's and yet not near as elegant. They looked a bit worn, almost as if he had just dug them out of his closet for an occasion such as this.
"Yes well, it is the Yule Ball. Got to dress up." he agreed. Sherlock hummed his agreement, letting his eyes leave John to sweep through the crowd once more.
"I assume Mary's treating you well?" Sherlock guessed, hating to bring attention to John's date however he could think of no other outlet to go. He also wanted to hear what John thought of her, was he in love, or was he indifferent?
"Yes well, she's very nice..." Sherlock interrupted him with a doubtful laugh, waving on for him to continue all the same, "And yet she's rather eager." John finished finally.
"To be honest John, I don't hate a lot of people." Sherlock paused, for that didn't sound quite right. "I do in fact hate a lot of people, but Mary Morstan tops that list with miles to go. She is just...well I'm sure you've only been exposed to her good side. Imagine what grief she'll give you when she finds you missing."
"Missing? I'm not missing I'm right here." John insisted with a little laugh. Sherlock nodded, stepping closer and holding out his arm for John to take, donning that romantic gleam in his eye and smiling out of the corners of his mouth.
"Yes, but wouldn't you like to be somewhere else?" Sherlock offered. John blinked for a moment, looking rather nervously at Sherlock as if he was trying to figure out just what went into this offer. It only took a moment, however, a moment of hypnosis before he nodded stiffly, not taking Sherlock's arm and yet not looking behind him as he started for the entrance hall, towards where they could be somewhere more privately. Sherlock swept behind him like a ghost, draped in white yet beautiful all the same, beautiful with a sense of mysteriousness lingering about his body and his soul. He didn't know what to expect, he didn't know exactly what was on John's mind and yet he knew that boy had the same predicament. And yet he agreed to it, knowing exactly that there was a chance something crazy might happen. Something that might end up being a repeat of the quidditch pitch, only this time it wouldn't end in tragedy... John led Sherlock near the courtyard, out into the open aired corridor with columns lining the walls to a beautiful array of rose bushes and benches, all assorted for the luxury of the love sick dancers, presumably. It was here in the privacy that John stopped to admire his run away companion, shaking his head and laughing, looking past Sherlock so as to make sure they were not being followed.
"Does this count as somewhere else?" John wondered with a breathless little smile. This time Sherlock smiled back, admiring their scenery and brushing his fingers against the stone columns, so old yet so sturdy. It was surprisingly quiet here, he should've expected more dancers, more lovers, and yet they were quite alone. Maybe everyone here had the sense to clear out; maybe they knew enough to know that the only true love story being told was supposed to be set in this very garden.
"She'll be quite angry with you I'm sure." Sherlock agreed. "And so it will do."
"And you're not worried about Victor?" John clarified, to which Sherlock just laughed, rolling his eyes at the very idea of Victor.
"If he gets mad that might just be an added bonus. It gives me an excuse to ignore him." Sherlock said confidently, to which John nodded, evidently not understanding nevertheless.
"Don't you like him?" he wondered curiously.
"Oh no, no I hate him." Sherlock assured.
"But I thought he was your best friend?" John clarified with a blink.
"Yes he is. But that doesn't say much of him, only of the pool of people that fester in the walls of Beauxbatons." Sherlock grumbled, to which John nodded understandably.
"Yes well, I suppose I can't complain with Hogwarts. I'm just lucky that the tournament was this year, and I got to meet all sorts of new people, new friends..." John sighed heavily, looking up at Sherlock as if he was unable to finish that sentence, simply because he didn't know which category of accomplice Sherlock would fall under.
"And I am glad that I came along, not only for the tournament, but for you as well." Sherlock breathed.
"Yes I should've seen that coming." John agreed in an almost nervous voice, nervous yet not entirely opposed.
"Are you alright from the other day? I'm afraid that I had shocked you, I was afraid that I ruined all chances of ever..."
"I'm fine, yes Sherlock I'm fine." John assured quickly, evidently getting unexplainably uncomfortable at the mention of the mishap before. John was quiet for a moment, letting silence overtake the moment that should be absorbed by his telling Sherlock that they were just friends. And yet those words never came, those words that had been preached so heavily to Molly, they did not follow. Sherlock knew then, that they did not apply.
"What changed your mind?" Sherlock wondered, dropping his voice lower so as to set the mood for what was to come.
"My mind never changed, I never had a certain mindset...never had anything." John said quickly, just shooting out words at random, panicking and trying to select things to say, things to do. He was fidgeting now, his hands were twisting and he looked as if he couldn't concentrate on anything but the boy standing before him.
"Then why did you fall away?" Sherlock whispered, taking a step closer to which John looked as if he wanted to step back...he looked like he wanted to and yet he didn't. He couldn't.
"I don't know." John breathed.
"Why did you?" Sherlock wondered once more, realizing immediately that he had gotten John caught in the very web he had been weaving all night. No one was resistant to it, he was quite sure that he could've lured anyone from that dance floor into his arms tonight, right by the rose bushes in their own romantic getaway.
"Don't make me say instincts." John insisted, shaking his head in defeat, almost as if he had spent all week deciding that what he had done in that moment was purely a mistake. Sherlock could only smile, because he knew that what John was saying was correct. He knew that John had no other word for it, he couldn't define his panic of the night because disgust wasn't accurate, nor was hesitation.
"A mistake." Sherlock clarified. "Yes I do agree."
"Not on your part, no Sherlock you are so...so beautiful." John breathed blinking for a moment before looking Sherlock up and down with admiring eyes. Sherlock smiled once more, for he knew it to be true.
"Beautiful is just the adjective I was going for." Sherlock agreed, taking a step forward only to steal John's hands from his side, clenching them if only for a moment before setting them on his waist, letting John take him in his hands like he so obviously wanted to. For a moment they just stood there like that, John's fingers nearly digging in through his robes as the boy trembled before him, so overwhelmed at the moment that it didn't appear he knew how to act or what to do. When imagining this situation Sherlock had thought of John being the one that would take control, Sherlock had historically played the one who was admired like a play thing, never in command of what was going on. And tonight it was different, tonight he was allowing, he was instructing, he had John Watson in his grasp and he wasn't going to let go too quickly. John took a step forward, still holding Sherlock as if he was unsure when he was allowed to let go. Sherlock then repositioned his hands, lifting them upwards and placing just one on the side of his neck, letting John's fingers wrap around the white skin, letting him cradle the softness for a moment. John seemed beside himself, he could barely keep his eyes open and yet he wanted so badly to look at Sherlock that he forced them to remain seeing. It was a moment of beauty, a spectacle to be sure, one which John might take Sherlock as his own, and his robes might get muddied when he left them behind on the grass...
"You are just perfect." John breathed, however he sounded nervous, unsure of something. It was worrying enough to see him hesitate, and Sherlock thought that maybe something was wrong, something was not going quite as he had planned. John's fingers loosened on his neck, almost as if he didn't know what he was supposed to do now that they were so close. Sherlock could feel his heart beating, for every throb in his wrists was pressed up against Sherlock's neck like a life line. There was hesitation, and so Sherlock knew that he had to take initiative, this was his role in the relationship now, wasn't it? Taking control? Sherlock tried to lean forward, he dropped John's hands and tried to take him into his arms, however suddenly the boy fell away once more, almost as if he was recovering from whatever state he had been tempted into just moments before.
"I shouldn't." John whispered, shaking his head before taking that colossal step back, just a mere couple of inches and yet with his footfalls he put up a wall between them, an impenetrable wall, something that Sherlock in his wildest daydreams couldn't hope to break. Shouldn't he have seen this coming?
"You should." Sherlock breathed, trying to step forward yet stopping him, knowing that the reason John stepped away was to get away from him. He didn't want to force John into anything, and yet there was that itching feeling, that madness that was trying to whisper to his brain to just take him, take him while he was helpless, while he was debating. Sherlock may not be strong but he had magic, he could just force that boy into finally complying, all of these days of struggling with his feelings and he could resolve them... No. No that wasn't genuine, it wasn't right and it wouldn't be the same.
"Maybe I should but I can't, I'm sorry Sherlock, I won't. You are beautiful, of course you are but I'm just not like you. I'm not gay, I think I have a girlfriend now, I simply can't..."
"Try." Sherlock pleaded, stepping forward as John just stepped back. The boy looked physically pained, for maybe he was ripping his brain in half trying to convince himself that he didn't need to love Sherlock, he was fighting a moral battle between what he was and what he could grow to be. Because he was right, wasn't he? Sherlock was beautiful.
"I won't tell anyone, it doesn't have to mean anything..." Sherlock insisted, feeling his eyes begin to heat up as tears pushed up against his eye lids, they were trying to escape simply so that John might see the pain he had inflicted onto Sherlock's mental state.
"I can't, I told you that. I'm sorry." John muttered in an almost painful sort of way. Sherlock couldn't believe this, he almost thought that it was some sort of practical joke, and all the girls from Beauxbatons would jump out from behind the rose bushes and mock him, laugh at him for thinking that maybe the most handsome boy in the collection of the three schools could ever possibly love him? Sherlock wanted to revert to desperate measures, he had played all the cards in his deck, and yet John was still winning. Desperate measures might destroy whatever could be salvaged of their friendship, and yet now John knew, he knew of the passionate love that Sherlock would keep trying to force down his throat, he would be afraid of him from this moment on...unless Sherlock was able to get him to love him now, tonight. Might there still be hope? Well of course there were the more obscene things to do, he could just jump into John's arms and kiss him until he kissed back, he could throw his robes to the ground, he could even just stun the boy so that he could have one kiss in secret...But no, these ideas were preposterous, they weren't love they were force, and Sherlock loved John too much to disrespect him in such a way. And so it was all Sherlock could do but nod, feeling his limbs grow heavy and his heart start to break. What else was he to do but stand here and watch as John walked away?
"Je te deteste." Sherlock whispered in a broken voice, shaking his head slightly and knowing that John would never understand what he had just said. John nodded in confusion, his eyes looking distant and yet determined. He didn't want to leave any more than Sherlock did, and yet he had to be strong right now, he thought that he had some sort of status to upkeep, did he not? To preserve his reputation, his personality? Did he really think that just because he had a history of heterosexuality that he couldn't convert, that he couldn't even try?
"I um...I must get back to Mary." John muttered, nodding his head quickly before taking a step just close enough to Sherlock so that he could try to reach out his hand and pat him on the shoulder. Sherlock, however, anticipated this move, and instead of letting John touch him, touch him without any intention of continuing, Sherlock just smacked his hand away. He wasn't going to let this boy play these games with him, Sherlock was so persistent and yet John was even more stubborn, and still he wanted to be friends? He didn't think that the hatred that was now burning inside of Sherlock was enough to keep them apart? Sherlock didn't say anything and so John didn't say anything either, as Sherlock stumbled back into the columns John started back to the ballroom, following the sound of the music so that he didn't have to linger with the sound of Sherlock's tears.