“So where were you earlier?” John asked as they finished up.
“Hmm?”
“Earlier. I waited around for you, usually you’re home around noon on Tuesdays.” John was busying himself with cleaning up the mess, looking anywhere but at Sherlock. Sherlock was confused, but at the same time, a little frisson of delight traveled through his frame at the thought that John was missing him.
He racked his brain to come up with a clever lie. He couldn’t tell him where he’d really been, in the dance studio rehearsing for the upcoming production of the Nutcracker. He’d landed the lead spot this year, and rehearsals were demanding. With one week to go, Sherlock knew his time would only be more forfeit, and while he was thrilled to have the role, he was loathe to miss out on any time spent with John.
“I had to meet with my advisor. Why?”
“Oh.” John turned to look at Sherlock, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just used to having you around, I guess. There was no one to scream at the telly.”
“Yes, well. Even you should be able to see how ridiculous those programmes are, John, you hardly need me.”
John giggled, his deep-blue eyes locking onto Sherlock’s. “Maybe it just sounds better when you do it.”
Sherlock felt his face flush as John held his stare. He cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the spell, and attempted to get his heart under control.
“Perhaps I’ll record some insults for you, and you can play them back when needed.”
“Now there’s an idea. And how about one that says ‘You’re right John, I was wrong.’”
Sherlock laughed, the full-bodied booming laugh that was reserved only for one person. “I said insults, John, not fantasies.”
It wouldn’t do to have his secret exposed. Not now, not when he and the boy he shared the small flat with were beginning to become something like friends. Something that Sherlock would love to see turn into more. Sherlock couldn’t let him know that they came from such different worlds. He couldn’t allow that friendship to turn to teasing, to hatred, like so many had before, and it would, if his secret was known. Because John Watson, his flatmate, his friend, was the rugby captain.
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