I Know Your Face

Accidental Double Date

    When finally Sherlock had finished his salad they cleaned up a little bit, staying seated for a moment and making a bit of awkward eye contact.
"That was good." John muttered, the only thing he could think to say at the moment.
"Yes, very good." Sherlock agreed. John cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose a little bit to make sure they weren't falling off. He didn't have time to check his hair, and he was worried that with any small touch the bobby pin contraption might come apart, that this beautiful night might go to waste. John decided that this would be a good opportunity to strike up a conversation, but for the life of him he couldn't think what to ask.
"So, were you serious back there? That we could maybe do this again?" John wondered, deciding that this would be an appropriate conversation. He was curious, after all.
"You're acting like tonight is over." Sherlock pointed out with an accusing smile.
"No, no of course not, this isn't over it's just, you know...well, I can just ask you when we get closer to the end I suppose." John muttered. Sherlock smiled at him, looking rather entranced.
"Victor I would love to do this again. We haven't even been here an hour and it's already been the best night of my life." Sherlock assured with a soft smile. John smiled back at him, his cheeks glowing in pride.
"you're serious?" he wondered.
"Of course I am. You're the first person I've ever really interact with, the first person I could be myself with. No one else could accept me for who I am, no one else even knows." Sherlock muttered. That could be a sad sentence, of course, but he was smiling throughout the whole thing, as if he were so happy to have a companion that he could just look over the first eighteen years of his lonely life.
"Well don't you worry; your secret is safe with me. I have no one to tell either." John assured.
"Then maybe we're just perfect for each other. Two boys, who are too scared to admit anything to anyone else, but fit together like puzzle pieces." Sherlock decided with a smile.
"You only need one person to be truly happy." John agreed. "And I think the way things are going; you may just be the only person I'll ever need." There was silence, and for a moment John was horrified that Sherlock would shake his head, insist that this was too far in the future for him. Maybe he'd even leave, who knows? For a moment John sat there, holding his breath in horror and waiting for the worst possible answer. But then Sherlock smiled, and suddenly John could relax once more.
"I'm happy we found each other Victor, even if it had been through some rather unorthodox methods." Sherlock decided. John didn't know what that meant, so he just nodded.
"There's nothing orthodox about either of us. That's what makes us alike." He assured. Sherlock nodded, leaning on the table so that he was slightly closer than before. Even that little movement made John's heart burst, wondering what that meant, wondering what he could make it mean.
"I love your eyes." he muttered without really thinking, just speaking the truth while he gazed into the sea of green.
"Oh, thank you. I rather like them myself, they're unique." Sherlock agreed. "I love your eyes as well, even behind those glasses." John blushed for a moment, wondering if Sherlock was just now noticing the obvious mascara and eyeliner Mary had applied before this date. He hoped it wouldn't be a game changer for the worse.
"Yes well, I need the glasses, unfortunately. Without them I wouldn't be able to see you, and that would be an honest tragedy." John said with a shy smile.
"No, they're beautiful on you, I wouldn't wish for anything different. They frame your face so nicely." Sherlock assured. John nodded, worried that Sherlock was looking a bit too much at his face. He was worried that there would be a telling sign, a pimple maybe, or a scar, or the color of his eyes themselves. Hopefully Sherlock didn't pay as close attention to John as he did Victor; hopefully he wouldn't notice any telling similarities. He loved this Sherlock so much better than the one that John knew, the sassy and rude Sherlock who thought he was better than anyone. Just like John was now two different people, he suspected that he wasn't the only one who was hiding who they really were. This was the Sherlock, the real Sherlock, hidden away inside a shell of false confidence and hate. In reality, behind that nasty scowl, there was a soft smile, a small laugh and a faint blush. There was peace, there was happiness, and all it took was a simple soft word and single compliment. John loved Sherlock this happy, he loved him this flustered, and it simply broke his heart to imagine him any other way. He didn't want to think of what Sherlock would look like when he realized the boy he had fallen in love with didn't exist at all.
"So, would you like to continue walking? I suspect you're rather cold, sitting here." Sherlock decided, looking down at John's lack of a coat once more. John nodded, happy that Sherlock had been the one to suggest such a thing. The sun was setting as they got to their feet, the sky alight with beautiful shades of orange a red, the most beautiful backdrop for the most beautiful night. They threw out their empty salad containers and drink bottles, continuing their way down the peaceful concreate paths through the park. There weren't many people mingling around now, they had all gone home to their own dinner, to their families and children, smiling over the table as they discussed their days. There were many kind of happiness, and John suspected that if he continued down the path of life hand in hand with Sherlock, together they could each every single one of them. But for now, he could settle for this lonely park path, he could settle for their hands awkwardly swinging side by side.
"So, do your parents know?" Sherlock wondered, looking down at John with a bit of a guilty expression, as if he were curious not just for Victor's sake but his own. John just shook his head, deciding that Victor's parents would never accept him for who he was. John's parents most certainly didn't know, nor would they ever.
"No, of course not. Like I said in my letter, they've never accepted me for who I am." John muttered. Sherlock thought for a moment before looking down once more, his beautiful eyes alight with confusion.
"I don't remember you ever mentioning your family." He muttered, his words turning to a cold mist surrounding his face.
"Oh, then maybe that was the one I never delivered. There was one, where I just felt like I needed to get my feelings out. I guess I forgot to send it to you." John admitted.
"You needed to rant to someone?" Sherlock wondered with a small laugh.
"It helped me to know that someone was listening, even if you never even read it." John admitted with a guilty shrug.
"Well, I'm listening now." Sherlock offered, looking over at John with a soft expression, as if allowing him to say whatever he wanted. To be honest John didn't remember much about that letter, he didn't remember the feelings behind it nor the motivation. But he remembered that it was during the time he was starting to realize Victor's feelings were staring to appear in his own heart, that letter was written with the fear of love and the denial of acceptance.
"No, it's nothing important." John muttered, suddenly feeling as if he wasn't ready to confess to Sherlock now. Besides, they only just knew each other, what would Sherlock think of him if he started complaining to him on their first date?
"Well, my parents don't know either. They would never understand, they would never accept me. My brother especially, I feel that if I even tell him I have a heart he would burn me to the ground." Sherlock admitted with a laugh. John nodded, based on the little time he had spent in Mycroft's presence he could definitely picture that man being very angry about having a gay little brother.
"My parents think I'm out seeing a movie by myself." John said with a laugh.
"Mine think I'm at the library." Sherlock agreed with a sigh.
"It's a bit sad to think what our parents think of us, isn't it? They would rather see us sitting alone in a theater or in the back of the library than spending a nice evening with someone we love." John muttered.
"It would be different if one of us were a girl. Then this whole thing would be a lot less complicated, a lot more acceptable." Sherlock muttered. There was silence, and John suddenly felt the need to say something to ease Sherlock's worries to make sure he knew that everything was okay as long as they had each other.
"But it doesn't matter what other people think, does it?" John wondered. "Somehow through all of this denial, and oppression, and secrecy, we managed to find each other, two boys with similar interests and identical hearts." John pointed out. Sherlock smiled, his white breath rising in the air before him in a beautiful cloud.
"Yes of course, together. That is all I've ever wanted to be, accepted, cherished." Sherlock agreed.
"Loved." John added. Sherlock took a deep breath, but nodded, as if that one single word had knocked the wind out of him.
"Loved." Sherlock agreed in a whisper. Sherlock's timidness almost brought a tear to John's eye, to see this poor, fragile boy finally admitting his feelings to someone who loved him; it was so much different than the boy in history class, or in math class. He was so much more than a genius, so much more than a sarcastic jerk. All it took was a wig to see the true side of Sherlock Holmes, the human side of the machine. John's hand was suddenly trapped in mid swing by a large, gloved hand, Sherlock's fingers curling around John's softly. John didn't say anything, and neither did Sherlock, and neither of them took their eyes off the path in front of them. But they both knew that this was a start, this was progress. John was in paradise, he really was. As the last of the dying sunlight faded over the horizon and the cold wind chilled him to the bone he doubted he could ever be happier, he wondered if any night could be as lovely as this one. Who knew that this night could be spent so beautifully with a boy he had thought he hated? Who knew that he could find true happiness in the form of Sherlock Holmes? And of course, all good things had to come to an end, or at least get momentarily interrupted. Because as John was trying to ignore the fact that their hands were intertwined, or at least convince Sherlock he didn't notice, he was focusing more and more on the path in front of him. He was focusing more and more on the people who were coming down the path in the nearly deserted path.
"Is that Greg Lestrade?" Sherlock wondered, looking down the path worriedly.
"Who's that?" John said quickly, yet he started to keep his head down, worried that Greg might recognize him. There were two people coming towards them, hand in hand as well, Greg and Molly, talking and laughing together like the perfect couple. They seemed comfortable in each other's presence, they seemed loving. John didn't know which approach to a first date was better, the silent, cherishing love that he and Sherlock shared, or the best friend giggly sort of love that was walking right towards them.
"It is, it is him, we should turn around." Sherlock decided quickly, his voice sounding rather frantic.
"Why, what's wrong with him?" John wondered, looking up at Sherlock in confusion all while trying to make sure his wig and glasses were on properly. Maybe Sherlock didn't recognize him, but surely his best friend would? Surely Greg would see right through him?
"It's not him; it's who he hangs out with. He'll spread rumors to the most awful of people, the people I don't want knowing." Sherlock insisted, pulling his hand away and sticking it back into his pocket. John could only assume Sherlock meant him, John Watson. He didn't want John to find out about his sexuality when John was the one walking beside him on their first date. Oh the irony.
"Just keep your head down; I'm sure he won't notice us." John assured, only hoping that was true. It would look too suspicious to turn off the path, as if they were meaning to avoid eye contact, but it would be even worse to turn around and let Greg and Molly follow them, especially if they were in ear shot. John could only hope love really was blindness, and Greg would just walk right past. He was half right. Greg was blind and rude, so even if he had noticed them, he wouldn't walked right by. If it wasn't for the kindness of Molly Hooper, maybe Sherlock and John could've walked right by.
"Oh, Sherlock, funny to see you here!" Molly said with a smile, stopping in her tracks and pulling Greg back with her. John stopped as well, feeling obligated to at least try to make a decent conversation so that they didn't look suspicious, so that they wouldn't even consider the fact that Sherlock was making a point of avoiding them. So far Greg didn't recognize him, or if he did, he wasn't saying it.
"Yes, how ironic." Sherlock muttered, obviously looking as if he wanted to move away. John could sense his uncomfortableness, surely he didn't want anyone to piece together that he was here with his new boyfriend.
"And who's this, I don't think I've ever seen you before." Molly asked in a sweet voice, as if talking to a scared child. John went rigid, hoping that he didn't have to say anything more than his name.
"Oh, my name is Victor. Victor Trevor." John muttered, keeping his head down in shame.
"Are you wearing mascara?" Greg wondered, ducking his head down so that he could see John's eyes more clearly. Fear ran down John's spine and he turned his head away, feeling ashamed not for himself but for Sherlock, and for Greg's obscene stupidity.
"We should really get going." Sherlock said quickly, sounding very uneasy.
"Do you go to our school Victor?" Molly wondered, obviously ignoring Sherlock's plea for solitude.
"Um, ya, just the year below you." John agreed, staring determinedly at his feet.
"Are you new? I've never seen you before." Greg wondered, obviously thinking he was being nice by inquiring about Victor's existence. But of course, he wasn't, and John was most certainly going to make him pay later.
"Ya, I moved here...last year. Ya." John agreed, trying to make sure his Victor voice was perfectly intact.
"We should just be on our way." Sherlock suggested, grabbing for John's swinging hand to pull him away.
"Ya, alright." John agreed, very happy that Sherlock was taking the initiative to break up whatever sort of awkward meeting this had turned out to be. Not that John was surprised, of course.
"Well then, nice meting you Victor!" Molly said with a smile.
"Enjoy your date." Sherlock muttered as they turned away.
"Enjoy yours as well." Greg said with a small laugh, and Sherlock's hand tensed around John's.
"It's not a date." Sherlock muttered, pulling John along until finally they were far enough away from Greg and out of earshot of that happy go lucky couple. As soon as they were far enough away Sherlock shuttered, looking back to make sure Greg and Molly weren't looking back as well before sighing heavily.
"Well that was painless." He muttered sarcastically.
"I thought it was rather awkward." John agreed, not quite sure what else to say. Of course he didn't want to trash Greg too hard in front of Sherlock, considering that outside of this wig that bumbling buffoon was still his best friend.
"He better not tell him, oh that would be awful..." Sherlock muttered, mostly under his breath, but loud enough so that John could hear him.
"Who are you so afraid of?" John wondered. Sherlock sighed, shaking his head.
"Oh, no one. Just this kid in my grade who kind of bullies me, I'm terrified to think what he might do if he found out." Sherlock muttered in a fearful little whisper. John's blood ran cold once more, realizing just how scared Sherlock was of him.
"Who is it? Maybe I could go beat him up in the parking lot." John suggested, which would honestly be quite a sight. He'd put on the wig and punch himself in the face, and then take it back off again and punch himself again. John Watson vs Victor Trevor, wouldn't that be quite a show?
"Oh no, that's not necessary. He'll pummel you, he's the star soccer player, and he's brutal. He attacked me one time, in the hallway." Sherlock admitted.
"Why'd he do that?" John wondered, although he knew exactly why.
"Oh who knows? I had been laboring under the idea that I had spared him of a horrible fate, but apparently he didn't see it as such. I may have been antagonizing just a little bit, but obviously I paid the consequences for having a little bit of fun. He bruised my neck, it looked horrible. I had to cover it up with makeup just to show my face at school." Sherlock admitted. John looked down in shame, feeling tears start to surface under his eyes. Sherlock was disgusted by him, he was scared of him! He didn't know what he had done would hurt Sherlock as much as if had, and to think that this whole scheme was designed to hurt Sherlock even more...
"What's his name?" John wondered quietly. Sherlock took a deep breath, as if he didn't want to even speak the name.
"John Watson." He muttered. And just like that, a dagger went through John's heart, jagged with the sharpness of Sherlock's words, his loving pain. John just wanted to hold him in his arms, to tell him that everything was okay and that John Watson would never touch a hair on his head again. That John Watson loved him, even if he were too scared to admit it himself.
"Sounds like a jerk." John decided.
"He is. He is." Sherlock agreed. John just sighed, wanting to somehow redeem himself in some way. But how? If John made an effort to be nicer then Sherlock would surely suspect a connection between the two, if not automatically jumping to the conclusion that they were the same person.