Secretly I Think You Knew

What Should've Been

"You can sit up here with me if you want, watch TV or something." John suggested, scooting over a bit so that Sherlock could sit next to him.
"Oh, yes, alright." Sherlock muttered, seeming very uncomfortable. "Would you like me to take my shoes off?"
"Sherlock, look at me, do I look like a guy who cares about your shoes on my bed?" John laughed.
"Well, um, I don't..." Sherlock stammered.
"You're fine, come over here." John insisted, grabbing the remote from the bedside table and turning the TV on. Sherlock crawled over, sitting as far away from John as possible as if worried their elbows might brush, as if that was such a tragedy.
"You can pick the channel if you want, explore the world of television." John laughed.
"I've only ever watched TV at school." Sherlock admitted, taking the remote gently from John as if it were the Holy Grail.
"You're so innocent Sherlock, it really is quite amusing." John admitted, watching as Sherlock flipped wondrously through the channels. Sherlock didn't seem to have heard him, as he kept flipping until he landed on some sort of superhero movie, the Avengers. Sherlock gazed at the screen as the hulk went parading all through the Heli carrier, smashing things and being all angry.
"Who is that?" Sherlock asked.
"That's the Hulk, have you heard of him before?" John asked.
"I sort of remember some kid having him on a lunch box..." Sherlock muttered.
"You need a lesson in pop culture." John decided.
"Oh, no thank you." Sherlock shrugged, continuing to flip channels as if worried he'd learn. John just laughed, and this time Sherlock settled on the football game Mr. Watson had been watching downstairs.
"This is professional football, right?" Sherlock asked.
"Tell me you've heard of this before." John insisted.
"Of course I have, the boys in our grade never shut up about it. I've never really seen the appeal." Sherlock admitted.
"I'll take you to one of the high school games one time; it's a lot more exciting live." John suggested.
"Oh, Mycroft wouldn't like that at all." Sherlock decided with a small laugh.
"Mycroft doesn't have to know." John assured. Sherlock stole a look at John once more, looking a bit scared to see John looking right back.
"Sorry." He muttered, staring determinedly at the TV as if suddenly very interested.
"You're apologizing for looking at me?" John asked with a small laugh.
"Well, yes, I mean, I'd think it would make you uncomfortable." Sherlock admitted.
"It doesn't, I assure you." John insisted. Sherlock nodded, still looking unconvinced.
"It makes me uncomfortable." He admitted.
"Looking at me?" John asked with a nervous laugh.
"You looking at me." Sherlock corrected. John still looked at him, as if trying to figure out what he meant by that. Sherlock didn't need to worry however, he liked what he saw.
"Why do I make you uncomfortable? I can stop, if you..."
"No!" Sherlock said quickly, turning almost instantly to look into John's eyes. It almost seemed to be an accident, but he didn't look away. "Don't stop." He muttered.
"Alright, I won't. You're very nice to look at anyhow." John admitted. Sherlock blushed, his beautiful blue eyes flicking over John's face as if he didn't know where to look, his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks, his lips...
"Oh, well, I wouldn't think that I'm that great." He muttered.
"You're joking, right?" John asked. Sherlock shook his head very quickly, John could sense his rising tension, but John could also sense something, there was something sparking between them, and he couldn't let that small spark die out. Maybe he could ignite it someway... Sherlock seemed to sense it too, with his blushing cheeks and awkward words; except he didn't do anything to snuff it out, which made John all the more confident to add kindle to the flame.
"It makes me wonder why you ever let Mycroft's rules control you, Sherlock you have so much potential. I mean, you're here now, what is stopping you from forgetting everything he's ever taught you?" John asked. Sherlock's eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted as he took sharp, quick breaths, he looked terrified.
"I um...I never really thought..." he stopped talking there, as if he didn't want to go on, as if he simply couldn't. John smiled reassuringly, looking down to see Sherlock's hand laying on the bed next to him, his fingers twitching once more as if longing to be held...
"Can I take your hand?" John asked softly. Sherlock's face drained of color, but John saw the smallest of nods, Sherlock's eyes following John's hand as he gently interlocked their fingers. A simple gesture really, it could show companionship, friendship, ownership, even a relationship. Right now, John wasn't sure which one he would prefer. Sherlock on the other hand seemed absolutely flustered, beyond words. His hand twitched and shook in John's but he didn't let go, he seemed like he never wanted to let go.
"Have you wanted this as well?" John muttered, so softly and so gently that he was sure his words wouldn't shatter Sherlock's poor fragile heart, just learning to beat. Sherlock's mouth moved but no words came out, he was as pale as a sheet, terrified yet determined.
"Mycroft..." Sherlock whispered fearfully.
"...Isn't here. He doesn't need to know." John finished. Sherlock seemed to relax just the slightest bit, his face regaining a little bit of color. John just loved the way he looked right now, the beautiful contrast between his white face and his dark hair, his cheekbones, his red lips, he looked like a piece of art. So John leaned closer, letting his other hand come up and press ever so softly against the side of Sherlock's face, leaning so close that with another inch their lips would be brushing together...Sherlock took a sharp, quick breath and jerked backwards, ripping his hand away from John's and swatting his other hand away. John retreated immediately, blushing in shame. Well that was it; he officially screwed up his entire new relationship with his friend/boyfriend. He had lost Sherlock for good.
"I can't do this John, I've told you... I can't." Sherlock muttered, scrambling off of the bed. He looked scared, scared beyond belief. John just couldn't tell if he was scared of John kissing him or what would happen if John kissed him. He might be scared of feelings, he might be scared of pain, but he was definitely scared of his brother. Even though Mycroft wasn't here, his shadow followed Sherlock wherever he went, restricting him from things that he wanted to do.
"No, Sherlock, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please..." John started, but Sherlock had already run out of the room without a goodbye. John sat defeated on his bed, listening to the announcer on the TV yell about a foul as he sat accepting his mistakes. He had pushed Sherlock's boundaries and now he was going to pay for it...he had tried to love an unlovable boy.