I Know Your Face

Interruptions and Interrogations

John frowned at his own drawing, it looked very much like a child had created it, Sherlock's curls were nothing more than scribbles on top of his head, and his face looked very unproportioned. He hoped Sherlock at least appreciated his effort.
"Alright then, want to switch?" Sherlock wondered.
"Ya, just, don't laugh, alright? It's horrible." John insisted with a laugh.
"I'm sure it's not that bad." Sherlock assured.
"It's um...it's bad." John muttered, suddenly feeling rather ashamed of this graphite atrocity. Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head and handing over his own picture. As soon as John saw himself, or well, Victor, staring back at him he was immediately ashamed at his own attempt at drawing. Sherlock must be some sort of reincarnation of Van Gogh or something, because it looked as if he had copy and pasted Victor's face onto the paper. It was all in pencil, no color at all, but somehow that was more flattering, somehow that was perfect. John could only stare in awe, looking up at Sherlock as if wondering how he had managed to create such a masterpiece. Even his hair was perfect; it looked as if Sherlock had created every single strand as he saw it.
"Sherlock, this is amazing!" John exclaimed, looking up at him in shock.
"I still haven't seen yours." Sherlock pointed out, looking rather modestly at the back of his own drawing.
"I don't really want to give it to you." John admitted, and Sherlock just laughed, snatching it out of John's hands. Dispute his earlier promise not to laugh Sherlock broke down into a fit of laughter, laughing so violently he almost dropped the picture.
"You said you wouldn't laugh! I know it's not good but I haven't had any practice, oh stop that you're making me feel bad!" John insisted, but he couldn't help but laugh along.
"No Victor, it's fine, it's really good." Sherlock defended, wiping a tear from his eye and looking away from the drawing to prevent himself from laughing some more.
"You don't have to lie on my behalf." John insisted. He wasn't upset or anything, honestly it was so great to see Sherlock laugh so hard.
"I'm not lying Victor, honestly, I appreciate it." Sherlock defended, although it was obvious he was trying very hard to contain his laughter.
"You sound like a mother trying to justify her child's awful artwork." John decided.
"I am." Sherlock defended. John just laughed, trying to take the picture out of Sherlock's hands once more, trying to reclaim his god awful piece of art. Sherlock just held away, out of John's little arm reach.
"No, come on, I'm keeping it, I'll display it proudly." Sherlock insisted.
"Sherlock just let me sign it or something; I want everyone to know what an abomination I have created." John insisted, reaching as far as he could to try to get the picture out of Sherlock's hands. Obviously it was a lost cause, and he only realized the mission was impossible when he saw how close he had suddenly gotten to Sherlock. His hand was right up next to Sherlock's leg, his face hovering just a foot away from Sherlock's beautiful lips. Oh lord, here we go again. There was a bit of a tense silence, and for a moment neither of them seemed to know what to do, although they both knew what was coming. John noticed that Sherlock's breath depleted rapidly, he was barely breathing if he was even breathing at all. John leaned in ever so slightly, letting his lips brush up against Sherlock's, a little bit of a tease to see how desperate Sherlock really was. He pulled away just as slowly, but Sherlock pecked him on the lips before he could get too far, the first kiss initiative Sherlock had made so far. John liked it. He moved closer, taking Sherlock in his arms and leaning into him, kissing his lips once more, a full out proper kiss, not just a little test. Sherlock seemed to know just what to do, after their first kiss in the auditorium it seemed like he had been practicing. He knew what to do, he knew that he had to take John's face in his hands; he knew that he had to get closer. The colored pencils all spilled to the ground as the two fell onto the bed, their lips interlocked and their arms wrapped around each other in a mess of love and limbs.
"I love kissing you Victor." Sherlock muttered breathlessly, as if he felt the need to break the silence.
"Well that's excellent." John agreed, kissing him again just to shut him up. He didn't want Sherlock to talk, it rather defeated the purpose, don't you think? Sherlock pulled his head back ever so slightly, burying his curls even deeper into the pillows. John hovered above him, wondering what on earth could be so important.
"You think it's safe though? You think they're not listening?" Sherlock whispered, his eyes straining to look around without moving his head.
"I don't know Sherlock, just shut up." John insisted, kissing him once more and running his fingers through his curls. Sherlock still seemed a little bit apprehensive, and even though he kissed John back there was some resistance, and finally John pulled away, feeling a bit guilty for making Sherlock uncomfortable.
"No, it's alright, it's alright, but I'm just nervous." Sherlock insisted. Dispute his insistence that all was well he sat up, letting John edge away so that he could sit up against the headboard. John lay on the bed beside him, his lips tingling and his heart racing, he wanted more, but he wasn't going to make Sherlock uncomfortable. Once more he had to bear with this constant slow speed, twenty miles an hour, just enjoying the view. This was obviously Sherlock's first relationship, and John knew that he really wasn't sure what to do or how to hide it. John seriously doubted that Sherlock's family members were pressing their ears against the door, but nevertheless he sat up as well, leaning against Sherlock's shoulder and feeling the boy's chest rise and fall with his nervous breaths.
"Are you alright?" John wondered, craning his neck so that he could see Sherlock's beautiful face.
"Why do you always ask me that? I'm not dead, am I?" Sherlock wondered.
"Well, whenever I kiss you I run the risk of cardiac arrest, I thought that maybe you had the same problem." John said with a little smile.
"Such a flirt you are." Sherlock laughed, his cheeks glowing a little bit red.
"Does it work?" John wondered hopefully. Sherlock blushed even more, but nodded.
"Yes of course it works, how else do you think I fell in love with you?" Sherlock wondered.
"That's precisely the answer I was looking for." John agreed with a smile, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's jawbone to show his enthusiasm.
"Why are you so afraid of your parents finding us?" he wondered.
"It's not my parents I'm worried about, it's my pesky siblings. My mother would be overjoyed to find that I had fallen in love, it would be annoying than anything. But the thought of my brother and sister finding out, the constant torment, oh it would be horrible. Could you imagine Mycroft finding this out, the worst kind of blackmail imaginable? The last thing I want them to figure out is that they have raised a disappointment." Sherlock muttered. John shook his head almost violently, pulling himself up so that he could look Sherlock in the eyes easier.
"You think you're a disappointment just because you're gay?" he wondered. Sherlock looked away, shaking his head quickly. But John knew what had come out of his mouth.
"No, Victor I'm not saying that you're a disappointment, I'm just saying that they wouldn't..."
"You're not." John demanded, cutting Sherlock off before he could finish his rationalization.
"Being gay, being in love with someone, it's not a sin. You're not a disappointment you're the best thing that could ever happen to this world. I love you Sherlock, your parents love you, even your brother loves you. Think of how dark our worlds would be without you? Think of how miserable my life would be if you had been born, in your mind, normally?" John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's shoulders, holding him closer so that he could feel his breath, inhaling, exhaling, so peaceful. So alive.
"If being born with a heart like mine enables me to be with you then I will never wish for another. I just wish that people could see us for who we are, two boys in love, two boys who are just like everyone else. Normal in our own way." Sherlock muttered.
"They can Sherlock, of course they can." John insisted softly.
"Then would you be brave enough to tell your parents your true feelings?" Sherlock wondered. John tensed, thinking of the horrible people he had made Victor's parents out to be. Or at least his father.
"My parents shouldn't count." He muttered. "I think they'd hate me even if I was straight."
"Then go downstairs and tell mine." Sherlock insisted. "It's all the same, no matter who they are, there will always be that look of disgust, of surprise, and ever since that moment they will never look at us the same way again."
"It's alright Sherlock, it's alright if they know you're different. As long as we're different together nothing will ever stop us." John insisted. There was a silence, a very tense silence, and for a moment nothing was said. They just held each other closer, no kissing of any kind, just love in the purest, emotional way. They were close, they were together, they were in love.
"I love you Victor." Sherlock whispered. "Without you I don't know where I would be."
"You're right where you should be Sherlock, in my arms." John assured in a breath, leaning even closer into Sherlock's chest and treasuring his presence. Right where he should be, forever and ever. What does it matter if he was John Watson or Victor Trevor? Right now they were the same thing, right now it didn't matter whose heart was beating, it didn't matter whose hair color or whose makeup, Sherlock was in love with the real and the fake. He loved the appearance of Victor and the love of John, what more could they ask for? They stayed like that for the rest of the night, talking in mumbles and breathing very slowly. Not much was said, just sleepy love exchanges and nervous little comments, but there was no more kissing, no more drawing, and no more laughing. They were there simply to pass over emotions; they were there just to be in the other's presence as long as possible. When finally the clock struck ten John knew that he should get going. His parents would surely be wondering what became of him, and even though he warned them he would be back late, he knew that they wouldn't be able to sleep well if they were wondering where their son was. So he repositioned himself, feeling very cold from the lack of Sherlock's body heat as soon as he pulled away.
"I should probably get going; my parents will start to wonder where I am." John decided, getting to his feet and stretching his now lazy muscles. Sherlock nodded, getting to his feet as well as if he felt obligated to walk him to the door.
"I had a wonderful time tonight Victor, I'm really happy that you could come over." he muttered, obviously thinking of his closing statements as he walked closer to the door.
"I'm happy as well; once again you managed to sweep me off of my feet." John agreed with a little laugh.
"I'll hopefully see you again?" Sherlock wondered.
"No, I'm just going to leave you now, I'll never come back." John said with a very serious look. Sherlock took a startled step back, as if for a moment he actually believed that.
"I'm kidding Sherlock, don't look so scared." John insisted, stepping forward and pressing a quick goodbye kiss to Sherlock's lips.
"I'll miss you." Sherlock muttered in a small little voice, as if he were ashamed to admit that he had actual feelings.
"And I'll miss you as well, but don't worry, I'll be back." John assured, moving closer to the door.
"Well, until then." Sherlock muttered, waving halfheartedly.
"Until then." John agreed, tipping an imaginary hat as if he were some sort of gentleman and letting himself out of the bedroom. His last glance of Sherlock was the boy standing alone in his room, looking lonely already, smiling hesitantly. John smiled back, and with that he shut his door and started is way down the hallway. On his way through the darkened hallway, however, he saw that a door was open, and a figure was watching him as he moved closer. At first he suspected it was Mycroft, wanting to be suspicious once again, but a shiver went down his spine when he saw the long black hair of Eurus Holmes lingering in the shadows.
"I'm just making my way home." John muttered, feeling the need to explain himself as he walked through the house.
"Your glasses, they're fake." Eurus pointed out, making John step back a little bit in shock.
"They're real, they're on my face, of course they're real." John snapped. Eurus took a step closer, making John retreat into the wall in fear. He didn't know what she had in mind, but obviously she was one step closer to debunking his disguise.
"There's no magnification on them, you don't need them to see at all, you just wear them because you think they make you look smart." She insisted, stepping closer still. Her voice was shushed, so that the rest of her family couldn't hear her deductions, but still John felt threatened. What if Sherlock was listening?
"Alright, well, you got me, they're fake." John muttered, trying to ease his way towards the stairs. Eurus's eyes were alight with curiosity, even in this darkness John could see every little vein in the whites of her eyes.
"What do you want with my brother?" she wondered, moving closer and raising a hand towards John's face. At first he thought she was going to strangle him, but instead she eased the glasses off of his nose, folding them in her hand gently before tucking them in John's front coat pocket. He looked at her curiously, wondering what kind of satisfaction she was looking for by doing that.
"I'm just his friend." John muttered. Eurus just laughed, shaking her head as if John's quick little lies amused her in some way.
"If you're only interested in friendship why do you go through such great lengths to impress him? Writing classes, fake glasses to look intellectual, eyeliner, to make sure he knows you're in touch with your feminine side." She muttered. John shook his head, trying to defend himself and Sherlock in the best way possible.
"I'm just his friend." He repeated, the only thing he could come up with.
"No, I don't think so." Eurus muttered, but with that she stepped away, letting John fumble for his glasses and slide them back onto his nose.
"Goodnight Eurus." John muttered, the only thing he could really think to say as he scrambled down the hallway in the darkness. She stayed where she was, standing in the shadows and watching him curiously as he quickly descended towards the door.
"Oh Victor, are you leaving?" Mrs. Holmes asked form the sitting room. She and her husband were sipping tea, watching something on the television by the light of the single lamp.
"Yes I am, thank you very much for having me Mrs. and Mr. Holmes." John said with a smile.
"Oh anytime dear, anytime, we loved having you." Mrs. Holmes assured. John nodded, suddenly feeling a bit rushed to get out of the house with people like Eurus and Mycroft lurking around on the top floors. He felt threatened by the Holmes siblings in a way he couldn't explain, something about their intelligence made him feel as though his disguise was compromised in some way. And if Sherlock didn't trust them to know his secret, how could John ever disclose his true identity to them? No, it was best to just escape. So with one finally farewell John walked out the door, descending into the light of the street lamps and making his way down the cold street, tucking his hands in his coat pockets and breathing heavily. So that was that. And that had been, in many ways, completely wonderful.