Just A Game

Chapter Ten: Messages from the Universe

*

Hours later Sherlock was packed for the weekend and Harry had been informed that John was indeed bringing a friend along.

Sherlock had disappeared down the stairs, leaving John sitting in Sherlock's half clean room.

It was as if there was a line that started beside the door and ran all the way along the floor to Sherlock's desk. The side with his desk on was spotless, like the type of room someone with OCD would have. Everything had it's place and was orderly. Then the other side of the imaginary line was how John expected a teenager's room to be. Clothes all over the floor, cups on the windowsill and objects randomly tossed in a corner. A pile of books sat in the middle of the messy half, looking as though they'd been dropped there. On the clean side was a stack of books, all perfectly lined up to the edge of the desk and each other.

It was odd and gave John the impression that Sherlock was two completely different people. He had a side that was orderly and logical and then a side that was recklessly and as wise as you expect an eighteen year old to be.

He soon gives up trying to figure out the mad genius. Standing, John wipes off his trousers to rid himself of any dirt. He pauses and considers this habit of his.

He supposed that everyone had odd little habits. Perhaps Sherlock just had a few more noticeable ones...

With a slight shrug John makes his way out of the room and down the stairs. He's about to walk into the kitchen when a voice causes him to pause. 

"Sherlock, when's the last time we assessed your wall?" That sounded like Sherlock's mother.

John knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but this was a chance to discover more about the ever mysterious teen known as Sherlock Holmes. So he pauses, standing beside the kitchen entrance. There was no door, just an arch that lead into a small foyer so John simply hide behind the wall and focuses on not making a sound.

"Ages, Mummy" Sherlock replies, a small sigh escaping after.

John almost snickers at the way he still said 'Mummy' at eighteen. Not even sarcastically, he genuinely referred to his mother the same way most five year olds do.

John wasn't sure if he found that cute or weird.

"I know you've been.. distant from certain people lately." There was a brief pause "Shall we?"

"Yes" This time Sherlock's reply came with an almost choked sob.

From his position John frowns, wanting to enter and wrap Sherlock in the biggest, safest, most loving hug he'd ever received. He sounded like a broken child.

And maybe he was. Inside at least.

"I'm here, the same as before" Sherlock's mother speaks, voice soft. "Then Irene is here, a little lower then me"

"Not as much as before" was the glum reply from Sherlock.

"Molly is the same as Irene, maybe just a tad lower"

John suddenly realises what they were talking about. The wall. The wall Sherlock surrounds himself in, to hide from those around him and stay distant from his emotions.

"John is higher then me, naturally, but for someone you've known barely two weeks... Hm. You're different around him. You've gone against a number of your personal rules for him"

Sherlock mumbles some form of an agreement.

John's heart takes that as a chance to beat a little faster and send hope coursing through his veins. That sounds like something someone does when in a relationship... But Sherlock isn't just anyone. That could mean anything with him.

"A-And Jim? Where's he now?" Sherlock sucks in a breath, as is afraid of the answer.

Another sigh is heard, from Sherlock's mother this time. "That.. That one I'm not too sure on right now, Sherlock. Whatever you two are arguing over.. It's different this time, isn't it? More serious"

Sherlock's gives a dry humourless laugh "You could say that"

"I'm here if you want to talk. Your friends are too. Why not talk to Irene?"

John hears pots moving around and assumes Mrs Holmes is washing up or setting the table for dinner.

"Hm" Sherlock grunts "She'll side with Jim, I know she will. With the way things are..."

"Ah, I see" Mrs Holmes trails off, thinking.

John's brow furrow further. What the hell did that mean? 'The way things are'?

He finds himself wishing he wasn't so far up that damn wall.

This whole eavesdropping was just giving John more unanswered questions and answering few, if any. Maybe he should just go back up stairs then come down, louder, and make his presence known.

"Molly?" Mrs Holmes suggests

"She's done enough for me, she doesn't need to be burdened with any more of my problems"

Answered questions: 0

"Hm.. Well, I'm sure you'll figure out a way to sort things out between Jim and you. Maybe you should talk to him, properly. I know what you're like Sherlock, avoidance will get you no where"

Sherlock sighs.

John smiles, wholeheartedly agreeing with Sherlock's mother. He should just talk to Jim, not anyone else. If he goes directly to the source of the problem then he won't need to confide in anyone else.

"I'm not sure I can forgive him, mum.. It goes against everything in me to help Jim.."

"But you still want to.. Don't you?"

There's another brief pauses and John wonders if Sherlock simply nodded or shook his head instead of verbally answering.

"I.. Of course, I do. He's my best friend. He's helped me when I was down, he's been there when I was at my happiest. He's always stuck by me and I should do the same.. but.. I just don't know.." Sherlock's voice quivers and John imagines him running a hand down his face in irritation.

"Talk to him. Listen. Then decide if whatever you too fell out over is truly worth your friendship"

Sherlock voice is muffled as he thanks her and John guesses that they're hugging.

Sherlock had sounded so emotional.. It broke something in John.

After a few moments of silence, John climbs half the stairs and slowly walks down again, heavier then necessary.

He enters the kitchen to see Sherlock making tea and Mrs Holmes setting a plate on the table that sat through another archway that allowed you to see the dining room from the kitchen. She sends John a smile as he enters.

"Would you like to join us for tea, John?" It's Sherlock who speaks, turning from the kettle and giving John a curious look.

There was nothing on Sherlock's face to suggest he'd recently been talking rather openly about his emotions.

John gives a casual shrug and looks towards the woman setting the table. "If that's okay?"

"Of course, darling. We're having toad in the hole tonight, that alright?" She sounded like a typical loving mother.

John smiles and nods. "Sounds great"

"Mum, it's--"

"Friday, yes I know. I made you your usual but Mycroft is bringing his boyfriend over and asked me to make it" She gives Sherlock a look, as if to tell him not to make any trouble.

Sherlock grins, blinking innocently at his mother. "I love having Harper over for dinner" 

Mrs Holmes huffs and rolls her eyes. "He hates you calling that, you know? How would you like it if he called you by your middle name?"

Sherlock frowns "Mummy, you all call me by my middle name"

She pauses and then chuckles "Right. Stupid question. Just play nice, please?"

Sherlock salutes before taking hold of John's  upper arm and dragging him out the kitchen, through the foyer and into the living room.

When they're sat with their tea, which Sherlock somehow managed to carry in one hand, John speaks up.

"Sherlock is your middle name?"

Sherlock groans "Yes. Now, shut up and drink your tea"

John laughs but does as he's told.

~

I heard you're going with John to his sister's girlfriend's cabin. I assume that means you're talking to him. Have you told him what happened?

Are we ever going to talk about it? Properly, I mean. 

I don't think 'Get out of my house and life' cut as discussing it.

Call me.

Please. xx

~

The cabin was as subtle and charming as the woman who owned it. Clara let them all in, smiling softly. Harry whispers something in her ear as she passes by, making Clara giggle.

John raises an eyebrow, smiling at the couple.

Once all four of them are inside the three who had never been there before make a point of looking around.

As expected, the walls are a high quality polished wood. No cliché moose heads hung from the walls but there was the occasional family photo from Clara's childhood. The furniture was all either wood, beige or a soft chocolatey brown colour. The tables and chairs were wooden and matched the walls and floor. A soft looking weaved red rug lay beneath the table sat between the two sofas and John tilts his head to get a better look at the design.

Flowers, leaves and birds. Simple and sweet.

John wonders down the hall, noting that Sherlock had wondered off towards the photos. He finds Clara in the main bedroom, door open as she struggles with her and her girlfriend's suitcases.

John helps her, wordlessly, lifting the huge cases on the bed. Jesus, they were only here for two nights. John rolls his eyes. Women.

"Thanks, John" She glances at her watch. "It's getting late. Yours and Sherlock's room is two doors down. Sorry, there's only two bedrooms"

Her eyes flash with sympathy. No doubt Harry would be embarrassing and comment on it ..and maybe even bring up the whole grinding thing. (John still wasn't sure if Sherlock even remembered that, he had no idea how drunk Sherlock got that night)

"That's alright, Clara" John chuckles and leaves the room.

It's not like they were going to be sharing a bed.

As soon as John pushes open the door to their bedroom he curses his thoughts. He spoke too soon.

There in the middle of the room sat a large double bed, the cream covers and fluffy pillow looking like something from a honeymoon scene in a movie. The bed was the same as the one in Clara's room but John hadn't thought much of it, considering it was the master room.

Now he thought about it, having one bed in this room made sense. One bed for Clara's parents, one bed for their only child, Clara.

With a sigh John places his case down on the trunk type box at the foot of the bed. He opens his case and sets to work on unpacking.

Okay, so he was going to share a bed with the biggest slut he knows. No big deal, right? Sherlock was here to study with John, not have sex with him. There would be no chemistry in the room other then what was in textbooks and on the web.

Sherlock enters then, silently. John doesn't notice. So Sherlock slowly walks closer until he's right behind John. Naturally, John senses him once he's that close and tenses up, his head subconsciously raising to look at the bed.

Sherlock chuckles and presses close, his mouth going to John's ear. His teeth nip at John's earlobe and the shorter of the two has no control over the shiver that runs down his spine.

"I think the universe it trying to tell us something, John..." Sherlock purrs the words, a large hand settling on John's hip.

John glances down at the hand, once again reminded of how Sherlock held him down in his dream.

Almost regretfully, John shoves Sherlock back and huffs. "Leave off. You're here to help with my Chemistry, not add another notch to your bedpost"

With another chuckle Sherlock gracefully moves and settles on the bed, one leg on the covers and the other hanging off the bed. An arm settles behind his head, making his shirt stretch the buttons look ready to pop. He looks delicious that way and he knows it.

Damn him.

"Why not both?"

John wants to slap him, not for the first time. That stupid smirk.. John felt a burning urge to remove it. Any way he could.

"I'm not gay" John huffs

"You're not straight either..." Sherlock's shoulders shake in a silent chuckle.

"How-- Shut up. I'm not sleeping with you" John turns away, carrying a few of his hygiene products to the small bathroom that was joined onto both bedrooms.

"Why not? You're curious, and I'm more then willing. Why not experiment? See what chemicals are released. Chemistry." Sherlock's voice was far too smug for John's liking.

John closes the cabinet/mirror more forcefully then he planned. The mirror wobbles and he watches it closely until it stops moving.

He takes a deep breath. Bloody Sherlock Holmes.

John knew himself though, he was as stubborn as the infuriating boy in the other room. He wouldn't be giving into Sherlock easily. He refused to be another point in his damn game.

He may not be above sex that leads no where, was nothing but that. This was different, however. He wouldn't sleep with Sherlock, not now, not ever, if he was just another point.

This weekend was going to be tough. Rarely was Sherlock refused what he wanted, John knew that him resisting will only make Sherlock more determined.

Good, John thinks. If Sherlock really wants him, he'll work for it.

~

Red, white, black. Black, white, red. White, red, black.

Newspapers littered Jim's bedroom floor. Irene was stood at the threshold, looking down at all the clippings. The Irish boy himself was stood on his bed, glaring down at all the paper.

"Jim.. Wh- I don't understand.." Irene's voice was low as she took in her friend's appearance.

He had lost weight, not a terrible moment but enough to be noticeable. His hair was unkept, greasy and had no life to it. Jim wore an old T-shirt that was a little big on him and his jogging bottoms hung off his hips, threatening to fall at any moment.

Large purple circles lined his eyes, revealing how well he'd been sleeping. He points down at all the papers, not taking his eyes off Irene.

"This is why Sherlock hates me" He explains, his voice scratchy.

Irene looks down again, opening her mouth to ask what he meant but then everything just clicks and it all makes sense.

Sherlock's few comments, before the silence. The way Jim reacted to the noose. Sherlock's bitterness towards the whole situation and his, seemingly, determination to cut Jim out.

Irene takes a step back, out of shock. Her eyes wide and just a tad scared.

"Don't" Jim steps forward, almost falling off the bed "Please don't leave like Sherlock did. I need help"

Irene glances at the papers, then at Jim. She nods and walks over to join him on the bed. She wraps her arms around his shakey frame. His face buries itself in her shoulder, she doesn't comment on the damp seeping through her new top.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise that, okay hun?" Jim nods stiffly.  "And we'll get Sherlock to come around, he'll see. Everything will go back to normal, I promise"

At least, she hopes.