+21: Video Game Books - Hank Green [REQUEST]

Reuqest from @--GeneticMutation-

I just wanted point out that I have made up the stories and titles of what Jim reads so if they do relate to any existing one's it is completely by accident.

-

Jim was a particular boy from a very young age and every since Sherlock had seen the boy sitting on top of the climbing frame at the young age of five, nose buried in a comic book, he'd been interested in this odd, silent creature that had blinked up at him when he tried to talk to him.

Confused about the one that wouldn't talk, Sherlock had climbed down and loudly complained to his mother, knowing the only other parents in the park were the boy's. Sherlock's mother had rushed an apology out to the other parents before dragging him from the park, cheeks flushed in embarrassment at her son's antics.

On Monday, Sherlock had looked around his school in search of the silent child. He didn't find him, which confused him. This was a small town and this was the only school around for some time. Surely that family didn't drive three hours each morning to the closest school...

Annoyed, Sherlock got on with his life.

As Sherlock aged, his child-like curiousity had become a raging fire that refused to lessen. He understood that the boy was a mute now but he was still curious. He knew the boy lived in this town, he'd seen him out with his parents, always trailing behind them flicking through a comic.

He just had to find a way to talk to the boy. He just had to...

*

One day, someone above seems to grant Sherlock's wish of meeting this myterious boy because he just strolls up to Sherlock's door with his mother and knocks. Sherlock had heard the knocking and stuck his head out of his bedroom window, knowing that his parents and brother were't expecting anyone. When the fifteen year old saw the 'comic book boy', as he'd been dubbed, standing there, looking awkward, he bounced up from his bed and rushed down the stairs to see what was going on.

As Sherlock steps off the last step, he begins to hear his mother's and the other women's conversation.

"Hello, Violet"

Sherlock frowns. Since when were his parents on first name basis with the boy's mum?

"Is everything okay, Paula?" Sherlock's mother asks, sounding worried.

So there were also friend's enough for his mother to be worried? Sherlock had no idea when this friendship had formed and he was more than a little peeved to not be aware of it but he ignores that and approaches the door, standing beside his mother and not caring if he seemed nosy.

He looks straight at the comic book boy, still listening to the conversation and ignoring the glances his mother sent.

The boy in front of Sherlock must have been younger than him. Maybe thirteen? Fourteen?

His black hair was short, but he had a bit that sat over his forehead. He wore simple clothing, a plain white top with a black hoodie over it and some worn black jeans. His eyes were on the pavement just by his feet and he had two comic books tucked under his arm. Sherlock couldn't see any titles but he could see a lot of bright red blood.

"Fine. Just... Well, a bit not fine, actually" The woman stood beside the boy outside gives a shrill laugh, nervous and seeming rushed. "In short, Daniel is at work and I've been called in. It's urgent and I need to go to the office, so I'd be grateful if you could watch Jim"

Jim? That was this boy's name? But it was so.. ordinary. Sherlock's frown deepens.

"Oh gosh! Of course. You go, love, I'll watch him and feed him. Text us when you're done"

The woman, Paula, grins and kisses Sherlock's mother's cheek and thanks her about three times in rapid session before she kisses Jim's temple and rushes off. Jim doesn't react to the kiss, Sherlock notes, he just continues staring at the floor.

"Jim, dear, come in"

Sherlock steps back as his mum opens the door even more. Jim glances up at her, nodding slightly before he steps into the house.

Ten minutes later, Jim has been introduced to Sherlock and Mycroft before Sherlock, Jim and Sherlock's mother sit in the living room with a tea tray in front of them. Sherlock can't stop staring at Jim and has been scalded a number of times by his mother.

Jim just sits there, staring at the carpet and clutching his comics.

After five minutes of awkward silence, Violet asks Jim if it's okay for her to leave the two of them alone and to go back to her stitching in the study. Jim nods. She also tells him to ignore Sherlock's staring and to come fetch her if he gets annoying. Jim glances at Sherlock, who heard his mother say all this, and then nods again.

Sherlock moves to sit beside Jim the moment his mother is gone.

"How old are you?" Sherlock questions.

Jim sighs, not hiding it at all, and pulls out a small notebook and pencil from his hoodie pocket.

He writes on it before he shows Sherlock that he'd written the number thirteen. Sherlock hums, pleased he'd got it right.

"So, you're in year eight?" Sherlock questions.

Jim nods.

"Home schooled, though?"

Jim nods again.

Then he turns slightly away from Sherlock and flattens the comic on his lap, opening it to the page that held a bookmark. It's then Sherlock realises it was just a thick comic, not two. Sherlock had caught sight of the title too. 'Hass'

"Hatred?" Sherlock questions, easily recognising the German.

When he gets a nod as a reply, Sherlock feels a bit anoyed that Jim wasn't more impressed that Sherlock knows German. Usually, people found it fascinating when someone could speak other languages.

"Why are you reading a German comic book?"

That causes Jim to look up and glare at Sherlock, showing the most expression ever since he got here. Jim begins to scribble on the notepad before he practically thrusts it at Sherlock.

It's NOT a comic. It's a graphic novel. Don't be ignorant, go learn the difference! reads the note. 'NOT' is underlined twice.

Before Sherlock can ask the difference, Jim stands and walks down the corridor to Violet's office. Sherlock follows in time to see his mum let Jim into the office.

Annoyed, Sherlock clears away the tea and then heads up to his room to Google the difference between a comic and a graphic novel.

*

Work calls Paula in more and more (the business she co-runs is going bust). Jim's visits increase in number. The duration of time he can put up with Sherlock doesn't, however, even if Sherlock did learn a useless fact about the types of books just to please him.

Every single time they interact, Sherlock manages to bugger it up and annoy Jim. Some days, Jim didn't even bother coming to the living room and just heads straight to Violet's office (Sherlock and Mycroft weren't allowed in without premission but Jim had been given a free pass to it, obviously).

The more that Jim walked away from him, the more Sherlock found himself wishing to be around the boy. The less attention he got, the more he wanted from Jim. It really was stupid.. But Sherlock was just drawn to Jim like he was a magnet and Sherlock was a paper clip.

He was just interesting.. He sat there all the time, reading those graphic novels. Hass wasn't the only one that he had. He had may of them and from what Sherlock had seen they all contained lots of death, blood and generally depressing things. He saw a page once of a blonde laying of her back, complete bare with her throat slit in a zig zag pattern and a weird symbol cut into her stomach. The weird thing was though, it followed the murderer and prasied him, not the detective's that were trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Sherlock wanted to know all about him.

As time goes on, that magnet affect increases and before Sherlock fully realises it, he's thinking of Jim in a romantic sense. When he realised, it shocked him but at the same time he just didn't care. Jim was a puzzle, a conundrum of a person. He was so different yet so ordinary. If he were going to 'fall in love' like all the other idiots on this planet, Jim was the first person he'd choose to be the object of his desire.

Jim hates him, though, or, at the very least, is annoyed by him to the point he struggles to be around him for longer than thirty minutes.

*

When Jim is sixteen, Sherlock tries to kiss him.

Sherlock nearly gets his nose broken.

*

The snow was coming down thick and every two seconds, Violet would get up and push the the curtain back to look out. Her lower lip was almost bitten off. Jim sat awkwardly on the sofa, his hands fisting the hem of his top.

For ten minutes, the house is silent. Then the text comes, stating what Jim knew would happe but didn't want to believe.

His parents were stuck at work with no way for either of them to return. Jim had no choice but to stay at Violet's for the night. Not that he dislikes Violet because he really didn't.. He just wasn't good with not being in his own bed and he also wasn't good at being around Sherlock.

That boy got on his nerves worse than anything. He doesn't even know why. He just knows that Sherlock is the most annoying person that Jim had ever met.

"You'll have to share with Sherlock, I'm afraid. The sofa bed is in there and these sofa's will really hurt your back, they're too small for a growing boy to sleep on..."

Jim frowns, not happy at all.

"I know it's not ideal, love. Your mum or dad will come get you as soon as possible, though."

Jim takes out his pad and scribbles a note to Violet.

I don't like Sherlock.

Violet laughs. "I know, sweetie"

He writes some more. And I still hate when you call me things like 'love' and 'sweetie'."That won't change, sorry. Now, it's late so let's go sort out that sofa bed. I'll talk to Sherlock"

Despite her reassurance and the talking to she gave Sherlock, an hour later Jim lay on the sofa bed with Sherlock sat beside him, smoking a cigarette and chatting away about nothing that Jim really cared about.

Jim rolls on to his side and closes his eyes, shutting out Sherlock's mindless chatter.

He sits up when he feels Sherlock tap his arm. If Sherlock was going to try anything, Jim wasn't sleeping until he was off the sofa bed and asleep himself. Ever since that kiss a few months ago, Jim had been wary around Sherlock. He couldn't help it. What if Sherlock forced another kiss on him?

Jim looks at him in a way that was clearly asking 'what?!'.

Sherlock gives him a small smile. "I really like you, Jim"

This wasn't the first time Jim had heard this and he doesn't care that Sherlock is beautiful - nor does he care that he knew he also liked Sherlock. He didn't want to like Sherlock, so he wasn't going to accept it and would just contiue to think of Sherlock as the annoying brat he is.

Jim points to Sherlock then to Sherlock's bed before making a 'shoo' motion.

Sherlock pouts for a moment but does as Jim asks and leaves him to sleep.

*

On Jim's eighteenth birthday, Sherlock gives Jim a rare edition of one of the graphic novels that Paula said he wanted. Then, when people have gone, he kisses him.

For a moment, Jim forgets Sherlock is irritating and kisses him back. Then he pushes him off and goes to find his mum.

On his nineteenth, Jim is kissed by Sherlock again. He doesn't kiss back and for the very first time, Jim sees Sherlock look pained by the rejection. For a split second, Sherlock let all the pent up sadness within him show.

On his twentieth, Jim refuses to go see the Holmes family and stays in his room.

By the time Jim is twenty one, he's moved out and is living with his best friend, Sebastian. Sherlock doesn't get to give him the graphic novel he spent almost eight months drawing himself.

*

The floor feels like ice and Jim hops across the wodden flooring as he holds the towel tightly around himself. He was tempted to turn and go back into the steaming bathroom. Jim knew he couldn't though and contiues to hop and jump until he's in his bedroom, which was carpeted and much less like ice.

He dresses in a fenzy, eager to be as warm as he possibly can. Jim had always hated the cold and always wanted to move to a hot country, although for now he settled with putting the heating on full blast and sitting on the sofa wrapped in a soft blanket as he drank piping hot tea, managing to burn himself three times.

When there's a knock at the door, Jim sighs and untangles himself from his blanket. Realising it may be a neighbour or someone he dioesn't know, Jim grabs his notepad and pencil. Of course Sebastian goes out to do the shopping when people want to come round.. That being said, Jim was glad he didn't have to walk anywhere in the weather outside.

When he reaches the door, he sighs again. Then, he unlocks the door and wrenches the thing open.

He almost drops the notepad.

There, soaked to the bone, stood Sherlock. The idiot pushes some of his hair away from his face and smiles softly at Jim.

Jim's heart thud in his chest and he refuses to acknowledge how much he'd missed this idiot. The same way he's managed to not acknowledge the way he often found himself thinking about Sherlock and how he maybe sort of wanted to go visit and hear him say, just once more, that he liked him.

"May I?" Sherlock asks, gesturing into the flat.

Jim swallows, then opens the door wider and gives a small nod.

Sherlock enters, pushes his hair back and holds out a backpack that Jim hadn't noticed he was carrying. After placing his notebook and pencil down, Jim takes it with a frown, holding it a little way away from himself. He raises an eyebrow, asking Sherlock what it was.

"It's your twenty first birthday present. I wanted to give it to you" Sherlock explains, appearing nervous for a brief moment but then he goes back to smiling at Jim calmly.

Curious, Jim opens the bag and pulls out a plastic bag inside that bag. Once the plastic bags had been unwrapped and placed in the backpack, Jim exaimed the novel he held. It had been printed and bond by simple ties from two holes that had been punched on the left side. Squeaker was what the title declared the novel to be. It was black and white with excellent shading, excluding a splash of red that covered the nails of the woman's hand shown on the cover.

Not recognising the title or image used, Jim flicks through out of curiousity. It's all done in a similar style, black and white with the occasional bits of colour. After looking through, Jim is no closer to figuring out what it was. He didn't know them all though, so it wasn't too surprising.

Jim turns the book over, looking over the back cover for the name of the artist or something to go by seeing as there was none on the front. The back is simple. All black except for six words in small, white print at the centre bottom of the page.  

Illustrated and Written by Sherlock Holmes.

Jim's head snaps up and his eyes widen in obvious shock. Sherlock smiles before he picks up the backpack. Jim's hand seals around his wrist, stopping him. Sherlock's small smile falls and he raises an eyebrow.

Jim holds up a finger, placing the novel on the table and picking up his pad. He scribbles down a lot of words - more than Sherlock had seen before.

Don't leave. You can't, after giving me this. I can't believe you made a whole fucking novel just for me. It's too special for you to just leave after giving it to me and I haven't even thanked you yet. You're a great artist Sherlock and knowing you, you've probably perfected the plot too. It's hard to express on a pad how much this means. Those books are my life... and you've just made one especially for me! xx

Sherlock reads them and opens his mouth to ask (probably about the xx's on the end) but Jim stops him by pulling him forward and into a kiss.

Sherlock gasps and pulls back immediately. "What the hell? I thought you hated me!"

Jim just shakes his head. Sherlock debates for all of three seconds before his lips are back on Jim's.