And so Sherlock sat down once more, letting his feet scuff against the dirt as he sighed heavily, leaning his head against the fabric and closing his eyes momentarily.
"Do you always sleep like this when you're working?" Mycroft challenged, sounding almost upset with him as if resting your eyes was some big scandal.
"No, only when you're around. Your presence is exhausting." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft frowned, obviously not amused, however he too sat down, taking the money tin from Sherlock and spilling it out before setting himself to count the revenue. Sherlock wasn't sleeping and yet he didn't open his eyes, all of his other senses were working and quite alert, waiting on the mere scuff of footprints outside the tent, waiting on a voice he had grown to hear in his head even when it wasn't spoken...
"Eight pounds and fourteen pence, not bad, not bad." Mycroft murmured, interrupting Sherlock's daydream and wrenching the poor boy's eyes open once more. Mycroft's voice was not the voice he had been anticipating, nor hoping for.
"Not bad for the first show." Sherlock agreed.
"Well shouldn't we put on a second one then?" Mycroft suggested. Sherlock groaned, shaking his head as it had only been but five or so minutes since the last.
"The same audience might be lingering, I always space my shows out so that whatever was left of the crowd before would be long gone. Give it another thirty minutes, and wake me then." Sherlock murmured in boredom, letting his eyes flutter shut once more and taking long deep breaths, as if to try to convince Mycroft that he really was asleep. Mycroft didn't seem all to impressed, and yet he was quiet and respectful of Sherlock's sleep for the most part. Of course Sherlock didn't actually fall asleep, he merely kept his eyes closed and his brain on, rushing and thinking and daydreaming and seeing John again and again and again. His mind was running faster than he ever could manage, and so he was doing quite the opposite of sleeping. When thirty minutes came Mycroft woke Sherlock eagerly, checking on his dusty old pocket watch (one of the only useful things inherited from their father) and rousing Sherlock to wake. Sherlock got to his feet lazily, yawning loudly with daydreams of John Watson still fresh in his mind. And yet he went out to preform, adopting a new level of energy as he jumped about the small crowd, producing animals from hats and transferring them other places. He would take a woman's hat, pull a rabbit out of it, and shove it back inside only to have the bunny appear in some lady's shopping basket. It was always quite a good trick, simply because by the end the people were convinced that the rabbit was the magician and not Sherlock. Mycroft seemed to like this trick much better, for it didn't look nearly as incriminating as the amazing bouncing rock. When finally the trick ended Sherlock materialized the rabbit onto Mycroft's head, its sharp little claws digging into the poor boy's head as it struggled to keep its balance on such a startling surface. Mycroft was unable to perform his duty of being the first to donate simply because he was crying out in pain, for the bunny seemed to be a bit more vicious than anticipated. However there were donations from the crowd, and when finally they had all vanished Mycroft and Sherlock were left with their collection tin and their rabbit, now squirming and clawing in Mycroft's outstretched hands.
"Why would you put such a creature on my head? Did you not think of the pain it would cause me?" Mycroft demanded furiously, to which Sherlock just laughed guiltily.
"Well yes, but predominately I considered the laughs it would bring everyone else, the laughs and the money of course." Sherlock said proudly, holding up the now heavier change tin for Mycroft to see. Finally the boy sighed, shaking his head as if he really couldn't argue with that, however he still looked very unsure of what to do with the panicked animal.
"Put it in here." Sherlock suggested, grabbing his hat off of the top of his head and smirking as he held it up for Mycroft.
"Oh stop that, this isn't a little trick." Mycroft growled, however he seemed keen on giving the bunny away and so he stepped closer to Sherlock's outstretched hat.
"Ah but I happen to know you've got a penny in your pocket, and I'm working for tips here." Sherlock teased, holding the hat and shaking it proudly. Finally Mycroft sighed, dropping the rabbit into the hat where it vanished back into whatever forest Sherlock had summoned it from, out of their lives for the time being. Mycroft pretended to clap all while clutching at his now bleeding head, and finally grabbed the penny out of his pocket and very sarcastically dropped it into the tin. Sherlock beamed at him, pretending like this donation meant the world, and finally disappeared into the tent for another thirty minute hiatus. Of course he knew he had hordes of fans collecting outside already; however every star needs their rest, right? However this break was short lived, for right after eleven there was a nervous knock on the fabric near the mouth of the tent, silhouetting a short yet muscular boy, asking for entry. Sherlock gave a cry of excitement as he sprang to his feet, much to the confusion of Mycroft who was trying to flip the coins so that they all landed heads upon the dirt. Sherlock rushed to the opening of the tent and he yet he had to calm himself down, trying not to look too excited as he pulled the fabric aside to reveal the boy he had been waiting for this whole time.
"Ah, John. I didn't expect to see you here." Sherlock said with a teasing smile. John, however, didn't seem to notice that it was a joke, and he glumly looked down at his shoes as if he felt like he had something to be guilty about.
"Yes, sorry I was caught up yesterday. I went down a little bit later after my tutor left, but I guess you were already gone." John admitted with a shrug. Sherlock watched him for a moment, his hand still pulling the fabric aside, wondering what that might mean.
"You actually looked for me?" Sherlock wondered in a dumbfounded sort of way, looking at John as if wondering which of the numerous angels he had happened to stumble upon.
"Well yes, but not with much hope. I knew it was late, actually thinking about it now it was kind of stupid, for it was nearly dark when..."
"No, no that's not stupid at all. I mean it is, of course it is but, well it's rather sweet." Sherlock admitted with a soft sort of smile. John just laughed at him, laughing with that laugh that gave music to Sherlock's life, and shrugged innocently.
"That's the kind way to put it. I might have dubbed it more as stalking." John admitted with a grin.
"Stalking with a good intention." Sherlock assured. John nodded, giggling again as if he couldn't think of anything to say. It would seem as there was no need to say anything at all, for as soon as their conversation dwindled Mycroft appeared behind Sherlock, notable only by John's startled expression as he approached.
"You must be John." Mycroft started ominously, starting towards the poor boy with a rather aggressive handshake. John shook his hand nervously, looking at Sherlock for some sort of explanation.
"Yes, yes sir nice to meet you." He murmured in confusion.
"This is Mycroft, my brother." Sherlock admitted finally, not terribly happy with Mycroft's choosing now to make his appearance, especially when John was laughing. It should be a crime to interrupt John's laughing.
"Ah um, I would say Sherlock had mentioned you but I don't think he has." John admitted with a bit of a confused look on his face, however in a moment he snapped back with a smile.
"Oh well that's alright, my brother isn't always very open about his personal life. He's too proud of me, he doesn't like to boast." Mycroft teased, to which Sherlock just groaned and tried to push him away.
"He's really nothing to be proud of." Sherlock muttered, jumping out of the tent as if trying to signal to Mycroft that he wanted to go off alone with John, without his idiot brother's daunting presence.
"Mind if I ask if this is a social visit?" Mycroft wondered, appearing once more at the tent despite Sherlock's obvious not wanting him anywhere near.
"Well something like that I suppose, I thought this might be Sherlock's lunch break." John admitted. Mycroft hummed, holding up a finger to stop the boys there and ducking into the tent for a moment. When he returned he was holding a couple of pounds, shoving them into Sherlock's hand with a glare that insisted he didn't spend it all, a glare that Sherlock knew all too well. They wanted to make it seem like they had money they simply couldn't spend now, and so the flaunting of extra pounds was a good way of making it clear that despite their having the money they were concentrated more on saving than they were spending.
"You go and have lunch Sherlock, I'll stay and watch the tent." Mycroft decided finally.
"Oh, well...thanks." Sherlock murmured, taking the money thankfully and looking at his brother kind of mystified. Never had he known Mycroft to be so...generous?
"It's the least I can do really, Sherlock's never had a friend before." he muttered aside to John, all in full hearing of Sherlock of course.
"Yes, so I've heard." John agreed with a chuckle.
"Oh stop it, both of you. Come now Merlin, off to lunch." Sherlock whistled sharply and the bird rushed out of the tent excitedly, landing on John's head this time instead of Sherlock's and whistling proudly. Mycroft simply smiled, and with a nod of farewell he ducked back into the tent, letting Sherlock and John wander off by themselves in the market, confused yet appreciative all the same, happy to be in each other's company once more. For a while they were quiet, for really what was there to say? Sherlock realized suddenly that this was the first time he and John were alone together, or even together at all, since he had produced such vivid violin hallucinations. For a moment he glanced at John, as if trying to imagine him once more surrounded in a blue hue, and to his immediate relief he saw that the two bore almost no resemblance. Thankfully John didn't look nearly as illuminated as the magical being, and Sherlock felt quite sure that there would be no kissing involved today. Sherlock didn't know if he should be relived or disappointed, and so he decided to be indifferent and try to focus on a thought process that wasn't so scandalous.
"Your bird is very friendly, it's actually kind of abnormal." John admitted with a smile, looking towards Sherlock proudly as if he was trying to make him notice Merlin's perching on his head. Of course it was quite impossible to ignore, for many townspeople were even glaring at John as if he had gone a bit mad, however he seemed quite proud to host such a thing as a hat.
"Well he's not like that with everyone. In fact I don't think he's given Mycroft a single glance." Sherlock admitted with a shrug.
"Oh well, that's understandable. He seems like a good guy; however he didn't seem all together..."
"Human?" Sherlock suggested as John's sentence tapered nervously off.
"Ya, that's a good word for it." John agreed reluctantly. Sherlock just nodded, for he knew Mycroft all too well and he was quite sure that there was something rather empty in his brother's body. It wasn't a lack of care, for he held Sherlock's life much higher than his own, nor was it a lack of emotions for he could grow quite worried or angry or even upset. It was simply the lack of social skills that set him apart, the apparent iciness he wore when in the presence of anyone but his brother. Mycroft was a very intimidating man, and surely John's impression of him had been one of fear. However that might have been exactly what Mycroft had been hoping for when he had made his appearance, he wanted to scare John into obedience, just to be sure that Sherlock was in good hands when he wandered about with such a boy.
"I think Merlin just likes you, he likes me as well. It's an odd trait in a bird, but I think the two of us have some sort of special touch." Sherlock suggested with a smile.
"A special bird telepathy perhaps? Maybe it's because you're magic." John suggested with a chuckle. Sherlock just smiled, shaking his head nervously and remembering back to Mycroft's warning. As seemingly trusting as John was Sherlock didn't know him very well yet, he might be reporting to his father, he might even be working for Inspector Trevor, who knows? The mere mention of magic was enough to get Sherlock on edge, and he knew that he had to lie for the time being, at least until he finally trusted John with all the secrets he was beginning to host.
"Well I'm not actually magic of course; I'm just good at tricks." Sherlock insisted in a mutter. John just hummed, not sounding at all convinced.
"I know you're probably warned to say that, so I won't argue. However I'm not as dumb as you might take me for." John warned with a smile. Sherlock cleared his throat nervously, ducking his head towards the ground as they started through the thick crowd of the market, a very pesky sort of suspicion starting to root its way into his brain when he started to wonder just why John had taken interest in him...if he was supposed to?
"I don't think you're dumb. Quite the opposite John, I think you're brilliant. I mean you've got a tutor and everything, you probably know all sorts of stuff." Sherlock insisted.
"I do know a lot, but it's useless things don't worry. You make it along just fine without knowing rubbish math formulas or Homer's poems or whatever." John grumbled, talking as if education was nothing more than a burden. Oh the problems he had when compared to Sherlock, it was almost sad to watch him whine about having everything.
"That's much preferable to knowing nothing." Sherlock debated, to which John nodded.
"Yes I suppose so." John agreed reluctantly, however he didn't seem too convinced. Sherlock merely smiled at him, and continued on. The market was quite full today, for it was Saturday and most people did their shopping today. Sherlock wasn't feeling very hungry, for John's presence made his poor stomach twist into a little knot, and so while they were browsing the stands he made a point to settle for something small. In the end John got another sandwich, something with basil or it or something, while Sherlock merely bought a roll and an apple. It was quite annoying as he tried to fend John and his charity off, for of course John saw Sherlock's sparseness as a financial issue and not a simple lack of hunger, and so Sherlock nearly had to drag him away from the food as he was insisting on buying Sherlock a sandwich as well. When finally they got out of the rush of the market they found themselves in something of a side street, claiming a bench to themselves in the solitude and sitting down to eat their lunch. It was rather awkward with no witnesses to what they did and what they said, for the only two eyes that watched them were those of Merlin, who John was throwing poppy seeds at from his roll. For a while they ate in silence, for it was rather odd to be in John's presence once more and Sherlock couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. What was there to say, really?

    "So how come your brother is with you today? I haven't seen him before in your tent." John asked finally, half way through his sandwich before he even considered conversation. Maybe he had been waiting this long as he was trying to formulate the perfect question, however thought the conversation starter had been mediocre at best.
"Oh well he's a clerk at the shoemaker's, and he gets weekends off. He likes to think that he helps me, while usually all he does is sit in the tent and insist on me putting on shows every five minutes. His presence is rather tedious to say the least." Sherlock admitted with a shrug, taking a large bite of his apple and watching Merlin peck around at the gaps between the cobblestones for any lost seeds that had been thrown and not retrieved.
"I think having a brother would be wonderful, but I was stuck with my lousy sister Harry. We get taught together so she's always around, and she's the single most annoying person I have ever had the displeasure of being acquainted with." John groaned.
"I'll give you just five minutes with Mycroft, I'm sure you'll grow to appreciate your sister much more." Sherlock teased, however he knew that not to be true. Mycroft was in no ways annoying, except when he took to pestering Sherlock about his magic and his friends and all of that, but usually he kept his nose out of Sherlock's business and kept his mouth shut.
"I'll trade any day Sherlock." John assured with a grin. There was a bit of a silence, and for a while they just watched Merlin in an attempt to look entertained while they thought of something else to say.
"Is it nice being the son of a judge?" Sherlock wondered finally, looking to John before quickly looking back when their eyes met. John thought for a moment, shrugging his shoulders as if he wasn't quite sure how to answer.
"To be honest Sherlock I know no differently, I know I could have it a lot worse but I seem to be suffering in my own ways. There's a lot of pressure, socially and academically, he wants me to be a judge like him, he wants me to be respected in the upper class, to preen myself and talk fancily and marry a beautiful woman, it's all just...tedious." John breathed miserably. Sherlock's heart leapt at the idea of marriage; however it was more in nervousness than in excitement. He knew of course that John wouldn't begin to lecture him about how his heart worked differently and he simply wasn't interested in women, that would be too much of a blessing for one day. However Sherlock had to wonder why he classified marriage as something so tedious.
"That does sound rather annoying, but I'm sure the benefits far outweigh the costs." Sherlock admitted, to which John nodded in agreement.
"Yes I suppose I cannot complain." He agreed, sounding as if he was going to say something more before quickly stopping himself, evidently something he thought might be received as offensive.
"You could have my life." Sherlock finished for him, knowing exactly what John was about to say. John sighed heavily, as if he had forfeited the thoughts from his very head, and was quiet for a moment.
"Does your brother want you to marry?" John asked casually, to which Sherlock's face immediately heated up. It was a horrible experience, simply because the mere presence of such a fantasy had driven him to be ashamed of his own thoughts. They meant nothing, of course they didn't, and yet here he was, too nervous to discuss a topic such as marriage!
"He has never approached me on the idea; however I can only imagine he's not entirely keen. He's not married himself, and we don't really get much opportunities to socialize with women much. Besides, another person in the house might grow to be too much to support." Sherlock admitted in all seriousness.
"Well what if you married rich? I'm sure you'll have no trouble scoring a rich girl, for they're all completely blind when it comes to anything except looks and true love. They'll marry well below their social class if they know that their families will support them in their endeavors." John assured with a grin. Sherlock just laughed reluctantly, shaking his head and blushing ever more, this time for different reasons. It was almost laughable to imagine him in such a situation, marrying a woman, talking to a woman, even knowing a woman! It was truly humorous.
"I'm afraid I'll have to leave all the marrying to you John." Sherlock admitted finally. John just shrugged, sitting back against the wall and staring up lazily at the buildings before them, at all of the curtained windows that loomed above.