To Be Happy

To Be Hopeful

"That was a bad idea."

"Yes."

"A mistake."

"Indeed."

"Terrible plan. We're ruining everything."

"It's true."

"I'm sorry."

"You are? For what?"

"Ruining everything."

"Say what you did, John."

"Kissing you."

Sherlock sighed. "I really wish you wouldn't say that."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you mean it. And I know you should say it, John, it's just that... you kissed me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Things would be so much easier if you had no reason to be."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, too."

"We're always sorry lately, it seems. What are we doing wrong?"

"I fell in love with you, John. That's what went wrong."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

"If I started acting like an arse, do you think that would fix things?"

"I think that would be impossible for you."

"It could be fun, though. I could just pretend I'm you."

They laughed. They did not kiss again, because John remembered that he was not supposed to play with Sherlock's feelings, and Sherlock remembered that he was not supposed to lead himself on.

~*~*~*~

It was Thursday. John had another date. He forgot about it, actually, until Rosamund texted to confirm the time. He almost canceled. He should have.

The time, the one he confirmed over text with Rose, was 5:30. She liked to eat early, miss the rush crowd. The time on the clock read 11. Sherlock was next to him when he texted Rose. Unlike John, he hadn't forgot about his date with Rosamund.

John put his phone down and stared at Sherlock. His eyes, his lips, his cheeks. What was he missing? Why did this man completely confuse him in so many ways? How had he managed to lose control of his feelings like this? What was he feeling?

He wore a simple, boring outfit, but he added on a jumper Sherlock had got him once to make up for contaminating all the food in the fridge. Maybe he chose it consciously, because of Sherlock. Maybe he chose it because it matched his eyes. He didn't realize that Sherlock had done that on purpose.

Sherlock noticed, and said nothing. When 4:45 rolled around, and John was preparing to leave, Sherlock locked himself in his room and didn't come out. John didn't notice, really. It wasn't unusual. He heated up some soup on the stove in hopes Sherlock would eat and left the flat.

He was glad he didn't see Sherlock when he was leaving. If he had, he might've stayed.

He arrived, at another average restaurant, and had another average date. Rose was already there when he arrived, which made him feel a bit guilty. She smiled, though, and chatted, and he did the same. He ordered something cheap, because she hadn't. They had fun, talking and eating and doing nothing else.

At some point, John had mentioned Sherlock. Maybe in a story. Maybe just in a simple offhand comment. Either way, the name was spoken.

"What's it like, living with Sherlock Holmes?" Rose asked, tilting her head.