Secretly I Think You Knew

Food Shopping With the Freak

Since they had driven separately to school they couldn't share a car on the way to the grocery store, but that might've been a good thing. Sherlock had questions, he had so many questions and John could tell that he wasn't satisfied with the vague answers he had provided him with. But he wasn't going to tell Sherlock what Greg had said, he wasn't going to tell him that Greg had accused him once more of murder. He was just so angry, so blinded with this rage, flowing through his veins, John knew that Sherlock was a murderer and it didn't matter. Why could Greg see that? Why couldn't he understand that Sherlock had killed only to protect himself, to protect John? He may have taken lives but it was for a good reason, it was for love, and John knew that and Sherlock knew that and no one else's opinions mattered, not anymore. Thankfully it was Friday; the sudden realization that they had a two day period of freedom hit John with a wave of relief. He didn't have to see his makeshift friends again, he didn't have to face their laughing and their accusations, in fact he didn't have to face them at all. Ever. He was free, he was free to love Sherlock and Sherlock was free to love him, and nothing would stand in their way again. Sherlock beat John to the store, probably because John was too busy thinking to try to beat him, but when he pulled up alongside the old black car, Sherlock was looking fairly proud of himself as he stepped out of the driver's seat.
"Were you obeying the speed limit?" he asked with an amused smile, as if John's failure to break state laws astounded him.
"Well, ya, just a lot on my mind I suppose." John shrugged. Sherlock sighed, leaning against his car and waiting for John to get out of his car as well, coming around and standing close enough to Sherlock so that they could talk very quietly and still hear.
"I know you have questions." John muttered.
"I do, did you quit the team?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't need the team anymore, I just need you." John whispered.
"What did they say to you after I was gone?" Sherlock asked. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and breathed in the familiar scent, the musty old smell of Sherlock's wardrobe mixed with his cologne, combining to smell like the perfect boyfriend.
"It doesn't matter, they're gone now." John muttered, pressing kisses to Sherlock's cheek for a moment.
"John, you're acting weird, not that I don't like it..." Sherlock started.
"Then shut up." John decided, moving his lips to meet Sherlock's and kissing him once more, more fiercely than they could ever get away with in the school hallways. At first Sherlock went along with it, he ran his fingers through John's hair and let John move ever closer, but eventually Sherlock pulled his head away, their lips falling apart and the connection breaking.
"This is a public parking lot, there might be children here." Sherlock insisted.
"You sound like Greg. What makes us so different from anyone else kissing in a grocery store parking lot?" John asked, trying to kiss Sherlock again, but the boy pulled his head back once more.
"The small fact that any onlooker that found our kissing to be disgusting could probably shoot us and somehow get away with it, that's what." Sherlock pointed out, wiggling away from John's grasp and walking over to get a shopping cart from the cart return.
"Besides, we can kiss all we want in private, but for now I need to go get some food. I expect you still want to come with me?" Sherlock guessed. John forced a smile but honestly Greg's betrayal had sucked all the fun out of today, even though Sherlock looked very adorable as he spun the shopping cart in little circles and tried to stand on the back and ride it all the way to the doors. When they got in the shop, Sherlock carried along a little list on a small notebook, wandering through the aisles and picking up the things that he needed. Some handwriting John recognized as Sherlock's neat cursive handwriting, but the other ones, the earlier additions to the list, that handwriting was unknown to John other than on the handwritten invitation for dinner. It was Mycroft's writing.
"So I just need the basics really, bread for sandwiches, eggs for breakfast, milk, ham, cheese, the saltiest, most unhealthy chips I can find, cookies, juice, cereal, pasta, sauce, canned soups and vegetables." Sherlock sighed heavily, dumping some canned beans into his cart and crossing them off of the list.
"That sounds expensive." John decided.
"Ya, cut ham and cheese, I'll have more peanut butter and jelly. And maybe I'll buy bargain brand chips instead. I only have about forty dollars." Sherlock sighed. John watched as Sherlock tried to pick out the cheapest yet yummiest bread, the slow music playing off the loud speakers as middle aged mothers, annoyed looking fathers, and cute little old couples moved past with their carts. Of course there was the occasional teenager, but none John recognized from school and an overabundance of small children, sitting in carts, crying, eating free samples, or just running around loose while their mother tried to pick out low fat yogurt.
"I hate children." John groaned as a small child ran past his leg, his desperate mother hot in pursuit.
"I rather like them. Not misbehaved children, but they sometimes have their perks." Sherlock shrugged, throwing a loaf of cheap bread into his cart and moving along.
"You want children then, when you grow up?" John asked, rather hoping the answer would be no.
"Of course. I'm guessing you don't though?" Sherlock guessed. John sighed, shrugging as he watched a little kid munch on some cheese in the booster seat that came along with the shopping cart.
"We'd need to get a good one." John decided. Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"You talk as if they come with flaws. It's the way you raise a child that defines it, not how it's born." Sherlock insisted.
"You sound like you have experience with children." John decided.
"I don't, that's what my brother used to tell me when I was young. He insisted that I could detach myself from feelings; I told him that I simply couldn't. I wasn't like him, I wasn't born without emotions." Sherlock sighed, looing somber as he looked around the pasta aisle.
"Just forget about Mycroft, alright? He was wrong, his entire lifestyle was wrong; don't dwell on his biased opinions." John insisted.
"I feel like he's a part of me John, a part of my soul that I can't ever detach." Sherlock said dramatically, dumping some linguine into the cart and continuing on.
"I know, but you have to try. That's why I'm here." John insisted. Sherlock looked at John with a smile, gazing at him in wonder. Unfortunately their eye contact was broken as a chubby man came barging through with his shopping cart, making John step away to make room. Meanwhile Sherlock had continued down the aisle and was now grabbing small cans of pasta sauce. When the cart was full and Sherlock's list all crossed out, they waited at the cash register nervously, each of their items being scanned and the total getting higher and higher.
"Here you are, your total is fifty two thirty eight." The cashier announced. Sherlock looked about ready to cry as he held up two twenty dollar bills, looking at John desperately.
"I'll pay you back." He muttered, his eyes watering a little bit as the cashier waited impatiently. John smiled reassuringly, taking out his wallet and paying the extra twelve dollars and thirty eight cents.
"Don't worry about it Sherlock, it's the least I could do." John assured.
"Thank you John, thank you so much." Sherlock muttered, pulling the bags into the shopping cart and still looking uneasy. When they walked out to the car John let Sherlock stand on the front of the cart while he pushed him down the parking lot. This was a very good idea because it took both of their somber moods right away, Sherlock's gleeful smile and his adorable, childish laugh was able to make even Greg's murder accusations seem like no big deal. Of course it went very well until a car pulled out and John had to swerve the cart violently, making Sherlock shriek and fall off the side, thankfully landing on his feet but ending their little game of bumper carts. So they walked back to their cars, small smiles on their faces as they loaded the bags into the back of Sherlock's trunk.
"I guess you're going to have to get used to this." John decided as he handed Sherlock a particularly heavy bag, feeling as though it contained milk.
"What, grocery shopping?" Sherlock asked, throwing the last of the bags in the trunk before slamming it shut.
"Well ya, I mean, you're going to have to do it a lot." John pointed out.
"It's a lot more difficult when money is rationed." Sherlock sighed, checking the receipt as if to see where he went wrong.
"Ya, tell me about it." John agreed.
"Thanks for lending me that money, I'll pay you back, I swear." Sherlock assured, tucking it into his pocket and rolling the cart back to the cart return.
"No need Sherlock; it's my pleasure to help you." John insisted.
"I really mean it; I don't think I could've survived this whole experience if it weren't for you." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, it's not over yet, but I'll be with you until it is." John assured.
"Thank you John." Sherlock muttered, taking both of his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I really do mean it."
"I thought we could get shot?" John teased, kissing Sherlock back before stepped away.
"We could. Nevertheless, you're just too kissable to resist." Sherlock insisted with a guilty shrug.
"As are you. I guess I'll see you later then, tomorrow is Saturday so expect a call from me." John insisted.
"Do you have my phone number? I know I have yours." Sherlock asked. John thought for a moment, but shook his head.
"No, I don't think I do." He decided.
"Well, that is about to change, give me a moment." Sherlock muttered, opening his car door and grabbing a pen and paper from his backpack, which sat in the front seat. He jotted down a couple of numbers and ripped the paper off of the notebook, handing it to John proudly.
"Call me anytime; I'm sure this weekend will end up being very lonely." He insisted.
"That's an offer I'm not going to refuse." John warned.
"I'm counting on it." Sherlock said with a little smile, pressing a final kiss to the top of John's head before opening the car door and getting into the driver's seat.
"I'll see you later then, thanks for helping little old me with my shopping." Sherlock said, and with that he backed out of the parking lot drove away. John sighed, leaning against his car and watching as the black, hearse like car disappeared in the distance, folding the paper absentmindedly in his hands. Oh how he loved that boy.