I Know Your Face

Vicarious Victor Trevor

    And suddenly he saw someone walking very quickly down the sidewalk, a very tall person, with a beautiful head of dark, chocolate colored curls. John was so excited that he almost forgot to use his Victor voice, and it only took him long enough to open his mouth to realize the mistake he was about to make. So he cleared his throat, walking closer to where Sherlock was making his way down the sidewalk, and turned on the Victor voice.
"Sherlock!" he cried through the line of joggers, all elderly people in horrible brightly colored sweat suits. Sherlock looked around, spinning on his heel as if worried he had missed someone. He looked very nervous, patting down his curls as if unaware he had an audience.
"Sherlock, over here!" John called, waving his hand through the air and fixing his posture. This was it; this was the moment that decided whether or not Sherlock fell for this entire plan. Sherlock paused, looking over to where John was waving. He stopped in his tracks completely, almost getting run over by a very angry looking man walking a Pomeranian. Their eyes met, and John could finally stare at Sherlock's beautiful green eyes through these glasses, even from a couple of feet away. Sherlock's face broke into a smile, a bit of an unbelieving smile at that, as if he were very pleasantly surprised at the appearance of his secret admirer. Maybe he was a little bit confused as well, because he was probably expecting someone from school. Maybe he had even been expecting John. Sherlock made his way through the crowd, jumping very quickly across the path of a bicyclist, his long trench coat swooshing out behind him. John smiled at him, taking a step back just so that he wouldn't be trampled. Sherlock looked beautiful, more beautiful than he ever did in school. He looked happy, which gave him a radiating aura of beauty that entranced John beyond belief. Sherlock was wearing a long coat with the collar pulled up against the soft breeze, a blue scarf tied in a knot around his neck but if John concentrated he could see that Sherlock was wearing that purple shirt. He always looked so wonderful in that shirt. He was anxiously patting down his curls, taking a couple of steps closer in awe and staring down into John's face. There was no spark of recognition, there was no anger, he had fallen for the disguise. It had worked. They stood there for a moment, just staring in awe at each other, their crystalized breath intertwining in front of them as both of their cheeks glowed pink. And then, very slowly, Sherlock extended a leather glove clad hand, and John shook it. Their hands seemed to fit perfectly together, John's small, cold hand was engulfed by Sherlock's large glove, and for a moment Sherlock held John's hand there, in his own palm, as if he never wanted to let go.
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock said in a rather deep voice, deeper than usual, as if he were extremely nervous. John smiled at him, turning his eyes shyly away for a moment before looking back up into Sherlock's.
"Victor Trevor." He said in his voice. The smallest of smiles appeared on Sherlock's lips, an expression that made John's heart melt like ice. Oh, how beautiful he was, how lovely. And then Sherlock let John's hand drop, shoving his hands back into his pockets as if they were cold.
"You're him then, my secret admirer?" Sherlock wondered. John smiled guiltily, and nodded.
"I couldn't resist." He admitted. Sherlock nodded, looking a bit confused, but entranced all the same.
"I have never seen you before, I find that rather odd. I feel like I would remember someone like you." He decided. John smiled, taking that as a compliment. Of course, Sherlock had seen him before, many times, but he didn't know that.
"Well, I'm the grade below you, I wouldn't be surprised if you looked over me." he admitted.
"Well I see you now." Sherlock assured. John smiled timidly, suddenly feeling like a very small, defenseless animal. It was rather odd, but he had always pictured himself the dominant one in this relationship. But now, being in this enchanting gaze of Sherlock Holmes, being attacked with this romantic confidence, well, he was helpless. And he loved it.
"It is very refreshing for you to see me, for me to see you. It's felt like ages since I first ever laid eyes on you, and ever since then I simply couldn't get you out of my head." John admitted, his voice very small, very meek. Sherlock just smiled at him, a softness never before seen on Sherlock's beautiful face. It was care, compassion...love.
"Well then, what good is it to stand here, would you like to walk around the park?" Sherlock wondered.
"Yes, of course." John said immediately, feeling as though he had to comply. That was the initial idea, of course, but he was sure Sherlock could recommend going swimming in the frozen pond and John would agree.
"You look cold, did you bring a coat?" Sherlock wondered, staring to walk into the park on the paved cement trails. John shook his head, feeling like quite an idiot now.
"No, the thought really didn't cross my mind. But I'll survive; the warmth in my heart is enough to heat my body, just for tonight." John assured. God, that was cheesy. Oh that was so bad; Sherlock would most certainly hate him! But Sherlock only laughed, a sound so pure and so unheard that a shiver went down John's back. That was a genuine laugh, not a sarcastic one. Sherlock thought he was funny, he was amused! This was good, this was very good.
"You are very romantic Victor." Sherlock decided. John felt like he had shrunk two feet, staring up into the bright, confident face of Sherlock Holmes. The beautiful face of his new boyfriend.
"Yes, um, sorry. I can stop if...if you want me to." John muttered quickly. But Sherlock just laughed again, shaking his head.
"It's quite alright; I just hope that my lack of romantic experience isn't discouraging to you." He assured.
"I haven't had a boyfriend before either, or a girlfriend for that matter." John assured.
"No, me neither. I guess we're both a little bit overdue, aren't we?" Sherlock wondered.
"For good reason." John muttered. Sherlock looked down at him and for once John noticed a bit of uneasiness in his eyes. For a moment John was worried he had forgotten to use the voice, but no, Sherlock looked back away, as if too scared to say whatever he had been planning on saying.
"So how are you then?" John wondered, hoping to break this silence in the least awkward way possible. But of course, as of this recurring theme, John failed horribly.
"I am quite well, definitely better." Sherlock said with a small smile, looking down at John with soft eyes.
"How are you?" he wondered.
"Never better." John said with a large smile. Sherlock nodded, clearing his throat and taking one hand out of his pocket to unnecessarily fix the curls on top of his head. Obviously he liked Victor, and wanted Victor to like him back, why else would he be so worried about his appearance? When Sherlock dropped his hand, however, he didn't put it back in his pocket, and he started to look very nervous, focusing with determination at the path in front of him. John suspected that Sherlock was tempted to hold his hand, which of course John would be fine with, perfectly fine, but no. As soon as he started to debate making the first move himself, Sherlock tucked his gloved hand back into his pocket, letting nervousness get the best of him after all.
"So what motivated you to start writing those letters?" Sherlock wondered. John shrugged, thinking of his real motivation, of the test, of Mary's suggestion, of the prank.
"How could I not? I spent weeks trying to think of some way for you to notice me, to allow us conversation anonymously. In the end I finally plucked up enough courage, and I just wrote it. You can't imagine my excitement when I saw that you had responded." John said dreamily.
"Well I'm glad I did." Sherlock assured. "And I'm glad you were brave enough to write."
"You mean, you mean you actually like me?" John asked in amazement, almost stopping in the path completely. Sherlock just smiled at him with an expression that John knew rather well, the 'what do you think you're saying' look. It was one of Sherlock's trademarks.
"Well if it's not too early to admit to such a thing I would like to say yes." He admitted.
"It's not too early, no of course not." John assured extremely quickly, just wanting to hear Sherlock's approval from his own mouth.
"Then yes, I like you a lot Victor." Sherlock assured softly. John almost didn't know how to respond, Sherlock liked him, it was working, Sherlock Holmes liked him a lot!
"I like you too. A lot. I think, well, I think you're very nice, and very beautiful." John muttered, talking so softly that he doubted Sherlock could hear him. But obviously Sherlock could, because he laughed once more, as if John's poor attempt of flirtation was actually humorous.
"Beautiful? No one's ever called me beautiful before." he admitted.
"Then obviously you haven't been hanging out with the right people." John muttered.
"You're not so horrible yourself." Sherlock added.
"Oh, well, thank you, I suppose." John muttered, not knowing if Sherlock was talking him down a little bit or he honestly just thought Victor looked adequate.
"It's a polite way of saying you're beautiful as well." Sherlock muttered, and John's cheeks turned red.
"Oh." John muttered. "Thank you."
"Any time Victor." Sherlock assured. They walked in silence for a moment, John was trying desperately to think of something to say and obviously Sherlock was as well. John was cold as well, a chill going down to his bone as the soft, chilly air cut through his thin layers of clothing. He had been so stupid to not bring a jacket, what was he thinking?
"Where would you like to eat?" Sherlock wondered, looking down on John curiously.
"Oh, I'm indifferent." John assured, proud of himself for conjuring such a large vocabulary word out of thin air.
"Well I'm no expert of the food around here, but I know there's a salad place somewhere. I'm always a fan of a nice kale salad, how about you?" he wondered.
"Oh definitely, I like salad." John agreed, thinking back to his date with Mary where he had protested the same exact thing. But John suspected that Sherlock could suggest eating dirt and John would happily comply, just because he was with this beautiful specimen of a boy.
"Wonderful. It's just around here I believe." Sherlock muttered, seeming to know exactly where he was going even though he claimed not to be an expert. John followed obediently, and as soon as they saw the salad food truck in front of them Sherlock's stride got longer, forcing John to break into a very slow jog just to keep up. Obviously Sherlock didn't notice that he was being a little bit inconsiderate, so by the time they reached the truck John was almost out of breath. There wasn't a line, thankfully, so they were able to order the food. Sherlock ordered a nice kale salad with raisins and apples and feta cheese, and John ordered the same chicken salad he had with Mary, although he really hadn't enjoyed it all that much. But he was willing to give it a go, maybe it would taste a lot better now that he was in Sherlock's company rather than Mary's. It was amazing how much more pleasant this park can seem when he was accompanied by a beautiful boy. As per Mary's dating instructions, John payed for both of the salads and the drinks (two iced teas, one peach and one regular) while Sherlock picked a table and got forks. Obviously he didn't notice, because he would've protested, but John felt very kind as he handed over Mary's money. Sherlock reappeared not a moment later, just as the cashier was handing him back his change.
"You didn't pay for mine, did you?" Sherlock asked in horror, as if suddenly realizing how rude he had been.
"Yes, I did, it's only proper." John assured, smiling over at Sherlock innocently.
"How much do I owe you?" Sherlock wondered nervously, digging around in his pocket and pulling out a couple of crumbled up bills.
"Don't worry Sherlock, honestly, it's the least I can do." John assured, holding out a hand to try to calm Sherlock, who looked frantic.
"Well, alright, but I buy next time." he decided. John smiled hopefully, and Sherlock smiled shyly back, as if just realizing what he had said.
"Will there be a next time?" John asked hopefully.
"Only if it's alright with you, I mean...I'm alright with it." Sherlock agreed, suddenly seeming a bit timid as well.
"No, that's wonderful, of course." John agreed, nodding his head agressivley and wincing as his glasses slipped ever so slightly. He corrected them quickly, and turned back to where the cashier was looking at them with a very confused, brainless stare.
"So are you two like...gay for each other?" he wondered in a sort of nervous whisper.
"Well, um, that's one way to put it." John muttered, and Sherlock giggled, a small, adorable little sound that was muffled as he ducked his head in shame. The cashier nodded, suddenly finding it necessary to go back and help the cook with the salads.
"Did you find a seat?" John wondered.
"Yes, I mean, it's not like it's busy. Then again, we could always go somewhere else; we're not stuck here with the herbivore homophobe." Sherlock assured. John laughed without even realizing it, laughing a John laugh, not a Victor laugh. He was struck with fear, but obviously Sherlock didn't notice the difference because he was laughing as well.
"Yes well, we can always eat somewhere else." John agreed. Sherlock nodded, looking a bit grateful. Obviously he didn't want a judgmental audience as they shared their first meal together. Their salads arrived in plastic containers, perfect for taking them on the go, and together they walked off down the path a ways until they found a rather secluded picnic table tucked away in a nestle of pine trees. It was nice and private, so they could have nice conversations here without being judged harshly. John sat down first, pulling the top off of his salad container while Sherlock sat down as well; trying to make sure he didn't wrinkle his coat.
"Looks good." Sherlock decided, taking the top off of his salad as well, and pushing around the kale with his fork. John nodded, already a lot happier here with Sherlock than with Mary. It was amazing what a simple change of companion could do for your mood. They ate in silence for a while, both of them too nervous to brave a conversation over food, they wanted to be polite, but wonder if they had to answer a question with food in their mouths? That would look barbaric! So they were silent, the table being suffocated in a very awkward silence as they munched on their salads. When finally John had finished his, down to the last onion, he sat back, watching as Sherlock ate the last of his salad as neatly as he could. John took this moment to gaze at Sherlock, looking so beautiful and so majestic even as he accidentally smeared vinaigrette over his lips. John wondered what would become of this night, how far Sherlock might be willing to go when everything was coming to a close. He wondered if maybe vinaigrette wouldn't be the only thing on Sherlock's lips tonight. John was hoping for a kiss, nothing more, just a small, nervous peck on the lips as a farewell. It would mean nothing yet everything, and that kiss alone would empower him for the rest of his life. Just something to assure him that this night hadn't gone to waste.