Chapter Text
"You've never told me you were in the sailing club before!"
The whole three of them were sitting on the couch staring at the album with the photos of John as a young teenage boy. John's mom left it the last time she visited and Sherlock and Mariana were bugging him to let them have a look. And even if John wasn't greatly embarrassed about how he looked as a teenager he wasn't particularly eager to show them those pictures either. After some time he gave in, hoping it'll, at least, give his friends something to joke around and will make them laugh, which was something he loved to do.
They had a lot of fun though. John had lots of different phases through his young years. There were photos of him as an 11 year old with buzz cut and dirty clothes at the school playground with some older friends. When he was a little older he had his phase of being an unapologetic and extreme pop culture nerd (which never really stopped). Mariana made fun of his awkward photos in front of posters of various movies that John happened to be going to see in the theater and him in some shop with fan figurines holding five different doctor who monsters and star wars characters in his hands all at the same time. Then there were some pictures from the time he wanted to be "different" and tried to be an alternative (he dyed his hair black and he wore eyeliner stolen from his mother for God's sake). This one was the most embarrassing and the only thing that stayed with him were his pierced ears.
And at the end, when he was a bit older, he tried a lot of different sports. Since childhood he practiced rugby and played football (football stuck with him to these days) with his friends, but after the age of 15 he tried a lot of less popular activities. He tried cross-country running, tennis, table tennis, volleyball, hockey and even sailing. None of these interests lasted longer than 2/3 years but he always fondly thought back of his passions he never got to master or appreciate enough.
And yes, one of his colleagues invited him for a boys trip to the lake to sail and drink, party and do whatever 17 year old boys are doing on trips like that. It ended up being a lot more fun than John firstly thought it could be and after that he joined a sailing club near Swindon, learned all the ropes names, knots and maneuvers on the water. It was never really relevant or on his mind after he went off to war and happened to never sail again. It wasn't his life's passion, but rather something that gave him a lot of joy and satisfaction, and to which he returned every summer of his young years, not thinking much about it for the rest of the year.
And now he started at the picture taken all those years ago when he was thinking he will be a surgeon or respected doctor and lived an average life a teen guy can have in Swindon.
"Yeah, it's not really important information, isn't it? I just sailed from time to time on a lake near Swindon."
John pointed at his happy younger self with a rope in one hand waving for the photo by the other one. He looked happy and careless.
"This was my second time on the water and I really loved this back then. I haven't sailed since I went to war- didn't really think about it much- yeah- that's how it is, solving mysteries and being a podcaster, yeah. Not much time to play a sailor."
Mariana smiled at him but Sherlock was still staring intensely at the picture. John was shirtless on it. His body was not only in much better form without all the fat he gained as he got older but smooth, without any scars on it. He was younger, it was completely understandable that his body looked different now but it hit him more than he cared to admit.
"I actually sailed once with my mom. When I was a kid. I don't remember much but it was great. What would you say for a trip out of London. The three of us, on sails. Guys? The adventures of sailing detectives?" John could see Mariana was excited about this. Sherlock not looking away from the picture, didn't seem to hear her.
"You know what? Why not? I think I still got this in me. I couldn't forget much. You know, I was not bad at this. What do you say, Sherls?"
He nudged his boyfriend with his elbow desperately wanting him to stop looking at his younger (better) self without asking about the reason behind his strange behavior, fearing what would be the answer. Sherlock finally looked at both Mariana and him seeming really out of place for a moment. After mentally coming back he didn't say anything, just shrugged.
"Come on, it'll be cool. It's quiet, you like quiet, it's just us there. I'll teach you how to do it. You happen to have a great sailor as your boyfriend."
Suddenly this idea sounded really good in John's mind. He missed doing something like this. He missed sports in general but due to his bad leg making it hard to run on some days he thought it wasn't a good idea to play football or basketball, but sailing? This could work and he would have his friends to help him.
After briefly persuading Sherlock to this vision he gave up and agreed. Mariana on the other hand was way more excited for this than John would expect.
_______________________
The same day, after Mariana went to her flat and it went dark outside, John began getting ready for bed. He stood in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and looking at himself in the mirror. He was standing just in his checkered pijama pants. He couldn't help but think of the photo they saw earlier, and Sherlock's eyes when he was looking at it. He knew Sherlock didn't mind his scars, he knew Sherlock found him attractive. But what if seeing John scarless and much more fit made Sherlock disappointed in what he has now and how his boyfriend could have looked like if the war would never break him. What if, in that moment Sherlock realized what the wreck of a man John Watson really is.
The door to the bathroom opened and Sherlock burst into the room without knocking or any warning (God, this man sometimes moved like a ghost). They were comfortable with each other to the point where it wasn't an issue but the sudden noise of opening doors in combination of the discomfort he felt looking at himself and being looked at made him flinch.
"Bloody hell, Sherlock, announce yourself." He muttered spitting toothpaste into the sink and rinsing out his mouth. Sherlock, looking unbothered, stood beside him opening a drawer and pulling out his skincare stuff.
"You don't usually react like that to me coming into the bathroom. You're tense. Worrying about something. Probably regarding me."
Perfect, Sherlock in his detective mood was all he needed right now.
"I'm not tense, I'm just enjoying my time in the bathroom and didn't expect you to come in." John went to the bathtub and sat on the edge of it, not feeling like he could keep standing up for the upcoming conversation.
"You shouldn't be tense. You're happy because Mariana is planning to go sailing with us. And you're looking forward to it. You were visibly happy about it."
There was a moment of silence after which Sherlock turned around and narrowed his eyes, trying to deduce something from him.
"Are you mad, I'm not as excited as you are?"
"I'm not mad at you."
He was an utter idiot. It was the same conversation all over again. John would get insecure, Sherlock would tell him he was being stupid and they would be fine. Then why communicating was so hard for him. Why Sherlock looked so moved by that damn photo of young John.
"Why did you.. looked so intense at that photo today?"
Sherlock looked at him confused scanning his face carefully . Finally something clicked.
"Sometimes you have some extreme lack of faith in yourself, John, and in my sincere love for you as well"
He leaned back on the sink raising his eyebrows
"You imagined that when I looked at your younger self and saw you without your scars I automatically realized you're somehow worse now. Your internalized struggle to accept your body made you think I find you disappointing or lacking which couldn't be more far from the truth"
And he guessed it. Which wasn't a surprise but it still was something a bit frustrating. John rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to comment on his boyfriend's deduction.
"I'm not- it's not that I think that. I just deduced... like you do, yeah? I let myself think and I found that it would be... I don't know, rational, to think that. I know my body changed, you've never seen my shirtless photos from before my time in war-"
John put his hand on the big scar on his chest, taking a deep breath and looking away. Sherlock stepped closer staying in between his legs.
"I'm feeling overpowering sadness because it was just a psychical evidence of how much pain you were put through and how much of it you must have suffered on your own. I'm not finding you lacking, but I am finding your story tragic and wish you had someone good for you earlier. Wish there was someone to mind that you nearly lost your life, because I know there was no one. You need to stop living in your world where I see you like someone broken because in reality I think of you more highly than you could ever imagine."
He did reach his other hand to grab Sherlock by his shoulder and forced him to lean down to kiss him gently.
He was right.
It was the same conversation all over again
_________________________
He didn't remember the time when he was more excited. All three of them were just after renting a sailboat. It wasn't big. It had some space for sleeping and even a small gas stove but it was still on the small side. John was feeling like a 17 year old again. He forgot a lot of the things he learned in his sailing club but still remembered the basics.
"John, Not that I'm doubting your skills but... are you sure we can... well... sail this boat?" Asked Mariana when he started untying the mooring line that held their boat to the quay. Sherlock was sitting on a stern in his protective vest, ensuring that he does not trust John's abilities enough to swim without protection, which was met with outrage from the man.
"It will be fine. They say- It's like riding a bike, you can't forget this."
So they set off. John felt great. Sherlock went below deck for a nap, much to the disapproval of the others. Mariana quickly learned how to control the sailboat and John could just relax and enjoy the feeling of sun, while checking the position of the sails. It was a hot day. The weather was excellent for a time off like this. The wind was strong enough that they were able to move without an engine, but their speed was minimal and waves were practically non-existent.
They were there for three days. Planning to just moor in small ports, in a different one every day so they could explore the area. The first day wasn't demanding at all. Sherlock was asleep almost all the time they were swimming and only John's yelling for some additional help on board while mooring woke him up.
As soon as they arrived, Mariana went to explore the port and the nature around. Sherlock went to the port loo and John started to tidy up the deck and tie up all the ropes.
When Sherlock got back, he saw his partner correcting the way they had previously folded the main sail, fastening the cover and tying some smaller lines.
Interestingly, John had taken off his shirt. It was out of character. It was normal for him to walk around their flat shirtless on the warmer days but he never took it off publicly. He didn't want people to see his scars and ask questions, speculate or pity him. But now he looked so peaceful and content, humming some stupid sea shanty under his breath, moving efficiently around the deck and not looking insecure or unsure in any way. It was amazing to see the person he loved so dearly feeling free to expose the part of himself he always found the most shameful.
When John realized Sherlock has been staying at him from the pier, he greeted him with a broad smile and happily called.
"Hay, you sleepyhead. Want to be useful after you slept through all of our cruise?"
He jumped off from the place he was standing and walked to the edge of the ore to extend his hand and help Sherlock get on board without falling into the water. Still, no uncertainty, no trying to cover up his scars. Just being generally happy and open John Watson he usually was. He looked so much like he did in that photo, it was crazy and unbelievable. He changed so much, his body looked so drastically different but the fact that Sherlock saw him for the first time ignoring his scars and just enjoying being comfortable with himself, with the sun falling on his skin, was something else.
John started to explain to him what he should do to help him and how to do it. Sherlock didn't really listen, being too busy with the overwhelming pride he was feeling. He pulled John closer the moment he got up from his kneeling position in which he showed Sherlock how to adjust the fenders on the sides of a sailboat. Hugging him and gripping his scarred arms.
"I love you"
"I love you too. You- you okay, Sherls?"
John was honestly confused and hugged him back but a bit uncertain of what was the reason for this sudden affection.
"Yes, I'm completely fine"
He pulled back after realizing it was probably weird to hug someone without any reason for that long. He could have a look at his boyfriend, scanning his body in the daylight, in beautiful natural surroundings, with small waves reflecting the sun and trees rustling quietly.
"I still don't trust you with my life on this boat but you're a really handsome sailor."
And John smiled, without realizing it was about his scars.