The One Next Door

That's No Lady

    "I can totally imagine mini you prancing around these sidewalks." John decided.
"I didn't prance." Sherlock snapped.
"Sorry, did you tip toe? Do your little ballet toe walk? I'm asking your parents for pictures of you in a recital or something." John warned.
"You better not, I'll kill you!" Sherlock threatened.
"I thought you'd take a bullet for me?" John asked dramatically.
"I'll do that too." Sherlock agreed. "Turn here, third driveway on the right." John turned into a little development, and the Holmes family house loomed into view, like hell itself was rising out of the ground.
"Aw, your mother's flowers look nice." John decided.
"Tell her that, she'll be delighted." Sherlock suggested.
"Hello Mrs. Holmes, I like your flowers." John planned.
"Yes, something like that." Sherlock agreed.
"Alright, are you ready?" John asked.
"I hope you are." Sherlock added.
"I am so ready." John agreed.
"Is Dudley ready?" Sherlock asked. Dudley responded by scratching impatiently at the window, whining to get out of the car.
"I think that's a yes." John decided, opening his car door and getting out. Sherlock followed, letting Dudley drag him over to the grass, where he quickly used the bathroom before pawing over to where John was unloading the suit cases.
"So, remember, smile, use good manners, and let me introduce you." Sherlock insisted.
"Got it." John agreed.
"And remember, whatever happens, I love you." Sherlock assured.
"What can possibly go so wrong that I forget that?" John asked.
"I have no idea." Sherlock admitted. "Oh no, was I supposed to buy them presents?"
"I've got you covered, I got each one of your family two presents, we can just change the labels." John shrugged.
"John, you are a lifesaver!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Yes, I know, I get that a lot." John agreed.
"Alright, let's go." Sherlock sighed, finally giving into Dudley's tugging and letting the dog lead the way up the stone sidewalk. Sherlock took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Dudley's leash, and rang the doorbell, half expecting the world to explode. Instead, the slightly more catastrophic event occurred; his mother came to the door.
"Sherlock, hello, come in!" she exclaimed, running the door and opening it with excitement. She didn't really give John a second look, maybe she just thought he was a brother of the girlfriend, who was still in the car. Either way, she was too busy trapping Sherlock in hugs that she didn't really have time to notice John standing awkwardly at the door.
"Mom, you're strangling me." Sherlock insisted, having to let Dudley go free in order to pry his mother off of him.
"Sorry Sherlock, sorry." She admitted.
"There he is!" Mr. Holmes said excitedly, wearing a little red bowtie and going over to give Sherlock a big hug as well.
"And I assume, by this foul creature, that Sherlock has..." Mycroft came around the corner, holding Dudley's leash by his fingertips, as if it were contaminated. Dudley, of course, was trying to jump on his expensive suit to lick his face, but Mycroft paused with a smug look on his face when he examined the people standing in the doorway.
"And who do we have here?" he asked, his fat cheeks curving into a smile. Mrs. and Mr. Holmes both suddenly turned their gaze onto John, who blushed a little bit, but forced a smile.
"I'm..." he started.
"John Watson." Sherlock finished with a rather determined tone. "My boyfriend." The look on the Holmes parents faces was almost priceless, picture worthy if anyone dared take out a camera.
"Your...oh." Mrs. Holmes muttered in a defeated way.
"Hello." John said with a smile.
"No surprise there." Mycroft muttered, letting Dudley run up to where Sherlock stood and wagged his tail aggressively.
"I'm sorry if it's a surprise, I wasn't really sure if Sherlock should be leading you on the wrong way, we just thought we should, you know..." John shrugged.
"Drop the bomb in person. But here he is, he's not leaving." Sherlock decided.
"Well of course he's not leaving!" Mrs. Holmes insisted with a small, relieved sort of laugh.
"Good thing we didn't invite Uncle Rick." Mr. Holmes whispered loudly to his wife.
"Well, I'm Sherlock's mother, you can call me Mrs. Holmes, everyone does, and this is my husband Scott, and this is our other son, Mycroft." Mrs. Holmes introduced. John shook hands and said hello.
"Yes, while that's all finished, where should we put our bags?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh, um, sorry, right this way." Mrs. Holmes decided. They walked out of the entry way and threw the living room, up the stairs and into the last bedroom on the right. It was rather large, enough room for two people and a fat bulldog of course, with a large bed in the middle of the room and a walk closet on the right wall. This used to be Sherlock's bedroom, way back when.
"I hope it's alright." Mrs. Holmes muttered, obviously not sure what to do with another person in the house.
"It's perfect, thank you Mrs. Holmes." John agreed.
"Oh, and who is this lovely puppy?" she asked.
"Oh, that's Dudley, he's my bulldog. He's a lover that one." John decided as Dudley attacked Mrs. Holmes' face with slobber and kisses.
"He's adorable. I always try to make Mr. Holmes get me a dog, but he always insists they're too much of a hassle. Maybe this year is the year." She said hopefully.
"Mom, please don't attempt at small talk." Sherlock sighed, setting his suit case down next to the bed with a loud thunk.
"I'm only trying to be polite. Well, if you need me, I'll be downstairs in the kitchen; lunch should be ready in a half hour or so. Sandwiches, nothing special." She shrugged.
"That sounds great, thank you." John agreed.
"No, thank you." Mrs. Holmes insisted.
"Oh my god, get out." Sherlock groaned. Mrs. Holmes scuttled innocently away, as if she had no idea how much annoyance she had been causing.
"Lovely bunch, my family." Sherlock sighed.
"I think they're brilliant." John insisted, and Sherlock just laughed.
"First impressions always deceive." Sherlock pointed out.
"Obviously." John agreed. In almost exactly a half hour, Mrs. Holmes called up for them to come down and eat lunch, which made Sherlock groan. John had already packed away most of his things into the dresser, and had been scrolling through some app on the bed as Sherlock poked around in the room to make sure his mother hadn't moved anything since he had last been there.
"We should probably go eat." John decided.
"Ya, we should." Sherlock agreed.
"I like your parents, they treat me like royalty." John laughed.
"Don't get used to it. They're just really happy that you're around. Once they get used to you, and figure out that you're not leaving, you'll just be another neglected member of the family." Sherlock insisted. The two of them walked down the rather boxy staircase leading to the living room, where Mycroft and the Holmes parents were already filling up paper plates with sandwiches and potato chips. Mycroft gave Sherlock a very stern look, but the younger brother smiled right back and started to fill up a plate.
"So, what's Molly doing over the holidays?" Mrs. Holmes asked as they all sat around the table. Mr. Holmes was put in charge of filling up everyone's cups with lemonade, and he kept spilling drops all over the table, to Mrs. Holmes' disgust.
"She went over to her parent's house." Sherlock sighed.
"Oh, that's nice." Mrs. Holmes decided. Sherlock didn't want to point out that he had literally told her that on the phone this morning, but he knew what she was trying to do.
"So, um, how'd you two meet then?" she asked, picking idly at her chips as if that was a perfectly normal question. Which it was, but evidently she'd been nervous to ask.
"You know that empty apartment across the hall?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes." Mr. Holmes agreed.
"Well, it's not empty anymore." Sherlock shrugged.
"In other words, we're neighbors." John cleared up.
"Ah, well, that's nice." Mrs. Holmes decided. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance; his mother really was a rather obvious woman.
"So I know nothing about Sherlock's childhood, he kind of keeps it all under lock and key, but Molly said that Sherlock was once a ballerina." John pointed out, obviously doing his best to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing.
"John, shut up!" Sherlock insisted, slapping John in the arm.
"Sherlock, play nice." Mr. Holmes snapped.
"I'm not playing; I'm a full grown adult!" Sherlock defended.
"You're not an adult until we say you are." Mrs. Holmes decided.
"Yes, the logic of parents." Mycroft signed.
"But to answer your question John, Sherlock was a ballerina, and he was so good at it, but the other children teasing him pressured him out." Mrs. Holmes admitted.
"Mom, I was terrible, and the kids made fun of me anyway." Sherlock groaned.
"But they put you in that big recital, the one for the older kids." Mrs. Holmes pointed out.
"Yes, only because they needed small kids and I was the only one not going anywhere over Thanksgiving. I was tree number three; I didn't even need to do anything except walk." Sherlock pointed out. John made a little snorting noise, obviously a laugh that he covered up into a hasty cough.
"Well, I was still proud." Mrs. Holmes decided.
"Did they take pictures to hang on the fridge?" John asked.
"Yes actually, Sherlock's second year they started doing that, I think I have them in a photo album, we'll go through that later." Mrs. Holmes offered.
"Oh please no!" Sherlock groaned.
"That would be lovely." John agreed, giving Sherlock a rather antagonizing smile.
"If we weren't supposed to be a happy and functional couple, I'd strangle you." Sherlock muttered as his mother started to shout at his father's poor lemonade skills. The rest of the meal they tried to engage Mycroft in the conversation, but since he only seemed capable of either one word answers of entire books, it took but the rest of the meal. So, as much as Sherlock simply loved to hear about Mycroft's fascinating job in the government, the end of lunch couldn't come too soon. When it finally did come, John helped with the dishes while Sherlock loomed over everyone else, scowling and trying his best to avoid all work possible.