I Know Your Face

Awkward Dinners and Artistic Vision

    When he walked into the dining room he saw that a small feast had been assembled, and he blushed a little bit as he knew it was all on his behalf. There was a ham in the middle of the table surrounded by dishes of corn, potatoes, and homemade rolls. The table was set with very nice white plates and shining silver utensils, glasses filled with ice water placed in front of every setting. The Holmes parents were still in the kitchen, the only two John hadn't met yet. That was a bit odd, considering they were the ones John was really here to meet. But obviously he wasn't the only one tonight who was pressured to impress. Mycroft and Eurus took their seats, and Sherlock and John took the other side, leaving the two heads of the table for the Holmes parents. John and Sherlock sat next to each other and Eurus sat across from John, her intelligent eyes scanning his face curiously. John really couldn't read her, but he was certain she could read him, and suddenly he was worried that she could see right through this cheap disguise. The four sat in silence, a very tense silence at that, where no conversation was even attempted. John felt like if he even tried to bring up the weather he would get pelted with fancy silver forks. Thankfully their tense silence was interrupted by the Holmes parents, both very happy, cheerful individuals that provided such a contrast to their solemn children.
"Ah Victor, it's so nice to have you over." Mrs. Holmes said, walking over to her seat but keeping her eyes focused on her guest.
"I'm happy to be here, thank you for the invitation." John said with a smile. He noticed that Sherlock was making a point of keeping his attention focused on his plate, as if he didn't want to make any eye contact with any of his family.
"Well we didn't really invite you, Sherlock said that he was having a friend over and we just couldn't resist. It's not every day out son brings home a friend." Mr. Holmes insisted, a proud smile on his face that made Mycroft chuckle. Sherlock's head hung lower, as if making friends was an act that was frowned upon in his brother's eyes. Both parents were in a very happy mood, saying some sort of prayer before finally digging into the food. The plates were all passed around, and everyone seemed to want to serve him food, so before John could even blink his plate was suddenly filled with everything on the table and then some. He was rather surprised that there was no decorative mint leaves around his plate, just for show.
"So Victor, you're the grade below our Sherlock?" Mrs. Holmes wondered. John's eyes immediately flicked to Eurus, who was actually in that grade, but nodded.
"Yes I am." He agreed nervously.
"You moved here though? Sherlock said you hadn't been around long." Mr. Holmes added.
"Yes, just last year. It hasn't been a difficult transition; however, I'm just happy to have found a friend." John admitted. Sherlock smiled next to him, but made a point to try to hide it.
"I've never seen you around school Victor, never even heard of you." Eurus pointed out, leaning forward and scanning John's face once more. John couldn't help but blush nervously; she was on to him, most certainly. And if Eurus found out then she would undoubtedly tell Sherlock and his whole family and they would shun him forever and Sherlock would leave him...oh no. This could be rather chaotic.
"I've laid low." John muttered, which was an excellent excuse on his part. He definitely could pass as someone who didn't like a lot of attention.
"And how did you meet Sherlock?" Mycroft wondered, buttering his roll very prestigiously.
"Library." John said.
"Writing class." Sherlock said at the exact same time, and Mycroft just chuckled.
"Liars." Mycroft corrected, his eyes slanted suspiciously.
"Well, it was a writing class at the library, they were teaching letter writing, I thought it could be a useful skill." John said with a shrug, looking over to Sherlock, who nodded enthusiastically.
"You never told us about a writing class." Mrs. Holmes pointed out, looking as if she thought she was entitled to know everything that happened in Sherlock's life. Well, I hate to break it to you, but there's a lot you don't know.
"Well I didn't think it would be relevant to your day to day life so I decided to just skip over it." Sherlock insisted. Mycroft hummed doubtfully, but went back to eating. John continued eating as well, hoping that everyone would stop throwing blame around soon. He didn't like to feel doubted, especially when everyone here had made a big deal of his presence. They were treating him like royalty, preparing this delicious dinner, talking to him, making him feel welcome, he would feel horrible if they all found out what he was really doing.
"I like your glasses." Eurus said from across the table. John looked at her rather curiously, but nodded.
"Thank you." He muttered.
"You can't see without them I presume?" she guessed. Oh no, this was bad, she was interrogating him.
"Well, I can see, but not very well." John admitted, trying to look like this was an everyday conversation, trying not to look guilty.
"Why are you asking him about his glasses?" Sherlock snapped.
"It's normal dinner talk." Eurus defended, looking at her brother defensively.
"It is not normal dinner talk." Sherlock snapped, his voice sounding very patronizing.
"Well you've never had anyone to talk to during dinner either, how should you know?" Eurus defended.
"Kids, please, behave. We have a guest, no bickering." Mrs. Holmes insisted, glaring at her two children who both sat back in annoyance, glaring at each other across the table. John just chuckled, looking over at Sherlock as if wondering why he was being so childish.
"This ham is excellent Mrs. Holmes." John commented, breaking the very tense silence that lingered over the fancy dining table.
"Oh thank you dear, but I didn't make it." Mrs. Holmes said with a laugh.
"I'm the cook around here, she's the genius." Mr. Holmes said with a proud smile. John nodded, looking at Mrs. Holmes and wondering if she's the reason all of their kids were high honor roll.
"Well Mr. Holmes, this ham is wonderful." John said, looking at the other end of the table.
"Thank you very much, I simmered it for a while, let it brine, I think a ham is perfect when..."
"And that's enough of that." Sherlock decided, cutting his father off before he was able to go on more about his ham cooking.
"Oh I don't mind. I'm sure my mother would love to get some tips, her hams all look like they're going to walk across the table and go live at a farm." John said with a little laugh. No one else except the parents laughed, Mycroft's scowl deepened and Eurus was staring at her plate, not seeing anything.
"So Victor, do you live close to here?" Mrs. Holmes wondered.
"Not far, just a short walk away." John agreed, not wanting to disclose his address or relative location just in case they dare to come knocking.
"You don't drive?" Mycroft wondered, looking at him as if he were crazy.
"Well, I could, but I don't have my own car." John said with a shrug. That was the lie he was going with right? Or was it that he didn't have a license? Ah, whatever, it's not like they cared that much, it was only small talk.
"Well there's no shame in walking is there? It's good exercise." Mr. Holmes assured, looking over at Mycroft as if trying to tell him something. Sherlock and Eurus both laughed, and Mycroft looked rather scandalized.
"I do exercise father." He snapped defensively, obviously no liking this spotlight.
"Only to go take your umbrella for a walk down the block." Eurus laughed. John couldn't help but giggle, and everyone at the table laughed except Mycroft, who looked rather bitter.
"Oh how I love family dinners." He muttered, setting his fork down on the edge of his empty plate. When everyone else was done eating Sherlock and John were finally excused to leave, and thankfully they didn't have to be a part of any of the post dinner clean up routines. Eurus found this to be very unfair, but in the end the two of them scurried up the stairs to Sherlock's room, locking the door and waking inside. The room was very nice, larger than John's and a lot less cluttered. It had a queen sized bed in the middle and bookshelf and a desk, filled with all sorts of papers, books, and pencils. He looked like he had made some sort of effort to clean up, but somehow it still looked rather messy. There was a TV on the wall in front of the bed, so it would be only too easy to snuggle up to a lame soap opera kind of thing. Sherlock stood rather awkwardly next to the book shelf, smiling at John but looking as if he still suspected his family members to be listening.
"Should be relatively safe now. God, I hate them." He muttered, putting his hands in his pockets before taking them back out again, as if searching for something to fiddle with.
"It's fine Sherlock, they're lovely people." John assured.
"You think that, sure. But wait until you get to know Mycroft better, he is like, the worst." Sherlock insisted in disgust. John just shrugged, he could already go for Mycroft being the worst now, and he didn't even know him that well.
"He's how much older?" John wondered.
"Seven years." Sherlock muttered.
"Why does he still live at home?" John asked. Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head as if this were a wonderful story.
"He claims it's because he wants to make sure we don't get into any trouble, but we all know he's just too scared to live alone. He has such a particular way of life, depending mostly on our parent's income, and he's too afraid to give up his fancy suits and imported teas." Sherlock said with a laugh.
"Ya, he does look rather...prestigious." John agreed.
"You don't know the worst of it." Sherlock muttered, sitting down on the bed and grabbing the remote from near the pillows. He turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels, but obviously nothing caught his attention.
"Any suggestions?" he wondered. John just shrugged, wondering what Victor would want to watch if Victor was alive.
"I always enjoy the history channel." He decided, going for the nerdiest thing that could pop into his mind.
"Yes, I do as well. But sometimes there are horrible shows on there, having nothing to do with actual history." Sherlock mumbled hatefully.
"Are you talking about the alien documentaries?" John wondered.
"Of course I'm talking about those." Sherlock agreed. John just laughed, sitting down on the bed so that he was facing the TV, only a little bit away from where Sherlock was sitting. Obviously Sherlock was aware of the closeness because he got a little bit tense, as if he were nervous that John would all of the suddenly make a move on him. But even John wasn't that rushed, unlike last time they didn't have a time limit, and as much as John would love to spend the rest of the night kissing, he knew that was impossible. So instead he let himself be bored by a documentary about ancient Chinese trading, something that really made him want to fall asleep. If Sherlock didn't look so interested he would've changed the channel straight away.