ShErLoCk oNeSiEs

Satin (Part Two)

John

Harriet had been absolutely right.

John had tried, really tried, to take his eyes away from centre stage to zero in on his sister, but his brain had ardently refused to comply.

Now, among the masses of frilly skirts and the smell of makeup, John struggled to spot the person who was the reason he'd come to this at all.

Not that he had any regrets about coming. He still felt weightless inside, like a hot air balloon drifting aimlessly among the clouds. There was helium in his lungs, and carbonated infatuation bubbling in his veins.

He liked it.

"John!"

He whipped his head around to check for the source of the voice, finding his sister barrelling towards him. He threw on a smile, guilt clawing at him with glass claws because he hadn't really paid much attention to her while she danced. His attention had diverted entirely.

She ran up to him, engulfing him in an embrace and locking her arms around his neck.

"Um - you were so good," John stuttered.

"What?" Harry broke away from him, her eyes still shining.

"The dance," he muttered, his eyes skittishly dodging her own. "You were...You were good."

Harriet tilted her head, smiling confusedly at her brother.

And she laughed.

"It's fine, no one can ever see past Sherlock when he's onstage," she stated. "S'not your fault. You don't have to pretend."

Sherlock.

John only nodded. It was the only thing he was capable of doing. His head was spinning. The only thing he saw through a haze of static and blending oil colours was a grinning Harriet Watson.

"So..." John fumbled in his confusion. "Why are you still grinning like a bloody shark in my face?"

If anything, her smile grew wider and more coy. And a little bashful.

"I just had my first kiss," she whispered to him, her black pupils blown wide, red lips stretched to reveal pearly white teeth.

John nearly choked. "You - what?"

"I don't know, either!" she went on excitedly. "I mean, one moment we were just talking, nothing specific, just talking, and then out of nowhere she takes this curl-" she took a bit of the shorter hair that had fallen out of her bun, "-and tucks behind my ear, and she looks at me, and says I was so good, and I couldn't breathe, John, it was completely mad, and then she kissed me."

Oof, John thought. Brotherhood has evolved.

Man up.

"That's..." John shook his head, almost in disbelief, "...awesome. I'm happy for you. Although, um..." his eyes flickered down and back up to hers, "...did you say she kissed you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Nothing. No apologies. No shame.

Just a blatant statement. Yes, I had coffee this morning. No, I don't want to go today. Yes, she kissed me.

Yes, she kissed me.

John stared at Harriet for a little longer than a while.

She was starting to squirm a little. "Erm...John? Hello?"

He didn't tell her how proud he felt. He didn't open up about the one boy in eighth grade who had stolen a kiss from him in the locker room. How he'd cradled his head and put his fingers in his hair. He didn't say anything about how he envied her because she was so very okay with it. She didn't question it, she just went with it.