Chapter Text
It wasn’t as if he’d seen him for the first time when he was on his way home in his family’s chauffeur-driven car, the late summer sunlight reaching its glorious rays through the glass of the car window onto his upturned face as Smooth radio blasted ‘Kiss Me’ by Six Pence Non The Richer.
It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d laid eyes upon this glorious stranger because the only people he had contact with were his perpetually absent parents and his brother who was not given to bouts of brotherly compassion.
A shrink could perhaps blame the rebelliousness of his proceeding actions upon his lack of parental figure or something equally rubbish had he had the time to pay her the slightest bit of attention.
It wasn’t as if he lay on his bed, arms crossed behind his head for hours after the incident pondering its implications and grinning to himself like a loon every time he thought upon the way the evening sun illuminated the lighter strands of the blonde boy’s hair.
Of course not; that’s way too cliché, all that David Copperfield kinda crap. And we’ve read Catcher In The Rye, and we all know how that one ends.
And yet, the first time eighteen-year-old Sherlock Holmes laid his eyes upon twenty-year-old John Watson the scenario pretty much played out as above. Sherlock was returning alone from what had been yet another tedious convention of his father’s, which had wound down into yet another sedate meal and was fortunately wearing one of his most expensive suits when drop-dead-gorgeous-big-blue-eyed John Watson looked him over.
John was in amongst a group of his fellow rugby team members and as the car made to drive past he turned his head and in doing so caught Sherlock’s eye…and kept staring. He nudged one of his mates and continued to gaze after Sherlock as the car pulled past, mouth hanging open slightly. The boy closest to John gave him a friendly shove which he returned before getting his now-madly-grinning friend into a headlock. Sherlock allowed himself a small smirk before signalling to the driver to pull over and change the channel to something a little more modern…ok, a lot more modern.
The gaggle of boys faltered slightly seeing the sleek black vehicle glide smoothly onto the curb, but it wasn’t long before one of the taller boys gave John a shove forward and said something to him that caused the blonde to flush crimson. Well damn. That’s endearing. thought Sherlock as a now slightly pink John strolled up to the open window of the car. John stopped in front of Sherlock’s window and bent at the waist slightly to get a better look at the brunette inside the dark vehicle. Sherlock smirked and allowed himself to briefly enjoy the sight of taut stomach muscles evident underneath the fabric of John’s tshirt thanks to the slightly sagging neckline.
Focus Sherlock cautioned the voice. You know the voice; that little niggling voice inside your head that steadily feeds you a stream of doubt and anxiety at the most inopportune moments, the voice that tells you maybe you can’t, maybe you shouldn’t, what if… But DAMN that voice. Sherlock thought in a burst of anger. Damn that voice and damn the consequences. Sherlock had always been the rebellious one, the one his Aunt looked down at disparagingly while openly voicing her opinions to his mother “He’s too rowdy, Violet! Too defiant! Practically uncontrollable and wayward ta boot! He was always set to be the trouble child I tell you! Myc was always the good one! Good child that boy and clever too! His brother could learn a lot from him. You wouldn’t see Myc getting up to any of this business!” and so forth.
Needless to say as Sherlock got older he began to live up to his ‘rebellious’ title. After buying and customising a Kawasaki Z1000 bike, donning bikers leathers and picking up a penchant for smoking cigarettes and downing alcohol, Sherlock’s parents decided to leave well alone. If their son wanted to act like James Dean then all they could do was make sure he wasn’t associated with them.
They weren’t horrible people in all fairness, just people of a certain status who wished to remain that way, the kind of people who knew that they had to instigate themselves within high society and occupy high positions within said society.
Well they can get on with it thought Sherlock as he pulled himself round to the present moment. Sherlock smirked as he pressed the button to scroll down the window, the dark tinted glass giving way to the sight of lively deep blue eyes.
John smirked down at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow “Can I help you mister?” he replied, cool charm and friendly teasing evident in his voice “You looking for something?” he queried. Sherlock looked him dead in the eye and without faltering replied “I am actually…you” and without warning the brunette slipped half his lean frame out of the open window, grabbed John by the back of the neck and kissed him passionately on the lips.
The kiss lasted only a minute or so before the stunned driver regained his wits and rather annoyingly put his foot down on the gas pedal tearing Sherlock’s lips away from John’s as he sped down the road, brunette still hanging half out the window. Sherlock looked back at John who was staring incredulously after the car. He laughed and winked back at the blonde before slipping back into the passenger seat.
Screw the driver Sherlock thought as they flew round a bend in the road that was a damn hot kiss. He put his fingers up to his lips, the memory of the kiss lingering around his widening smile.
Within minutes the chauffeur was pulling the car up the long driveway to the Holmes mansion and he did not look pleased. Sherlock spared him a glare before making to get out of the car but the chauffeur beat him to it slamming the door shut again and penning Sherlock in. “WHAT THE HELL?!?!” the now livid driver raged “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! I COULD BE FIRED HAD WE BEEN SEEN BUT NO! ALL YOU THINK ABOUT IS BEING REBELLIOUS AND DISOBEYING YOUR PARENTS!!! I AM DONE! I AM THROUGH WITH THIS! YOU PUT MY JOB ON THE LINE TIME AND TIME AGAIN WITH NO THOUGHT OF ME OR MY SITUATON YOU SELFISH…BOY!” Sherlock looked at the driver incredulously as he continued to rant “WHAT ARE YOU HOPING TO ACHIEVE?! HAS THIS ALL GOT A POINT OR ARE YOU JUST DOING IT FOR FUN. YOUR’E SEVENTEEN FOR GOD’S SAKE AND YOU’RE ALREADY A MESS.” Fire flared in Sherlock’s eyes as he listened to the man tirade in icy silence “YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR PARENTS ARE LIKE. STRAIGHT UP, TRADITIONAL, OLD FASHIONED, RESPECTABLE PEOPLE. WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO WHEN THEY FIND OUT ABOUT YOUR LASTEST HIGH HEH?! THEY WANT YOU TO FIND A GIRLFRIEND SO YOU GO AROUND KISSING RANDOM STRANGE BOYS LIKE A…LIKE A…LIKE A PANSY! IT’LL BREAK THEIR HEARTS AND DISGUST THEM TA BOOT! REPULSIVE, VILE ACTIONS OF A BORED TEENAGER LOOKING FOR THE NEXT FLING!”
It was at that moment that Sherlock snapped. Wrenching open the car door he flung himself from the vehicle and stormed to the front door of the house “FINE! JUST RUN AWAY FROM YOUR PROBLEMS! YOU USELESS COWARD!”
Sherlock froze.
Shoulders raised he turned on his heels and ran back towards the now standing driver. Then fist collided with face as Sherlock punched the driver square in the jaw. The driver reeled, regained balance and barrelled into Sherlock’s chest, catching him around the waist and slamming him to the floor. The driver dodged Sherlock’s blows as he rained his own down upon the brunette catching him in the face and stomach. Sherlock grappled with the larger man for what seemed like an eternity before he managed to catch his wrists and prevent any further damage.
The driver was still straddling Sherlock, panting hard but visibly calming down. Sherlock looked up at him haughtily “don’t you EVER say those things to me again” he spat, voice acerbic. The driver huffed at him in disgust before untangling himself from the teen and standing upright “find someone else to drive you boy” he said, voice laced with loathing and repulsion “because you sure as hell don’t do me any favour so I’m damn well not doing you any”.
The driver turned on his heel and opened the car door “get out of here you homo” he said with a sneer as he flopped back into the car. Sherlock watched from where he was lying as the sleek black car pulled out of the drive and tore off down the road. “Sherlock?” came a tentative voice from the doorway. Sherlock scrambled to his feet and practically ran into the house “not now Mrs Hudson!” he shouted at the anxious-looking housemaid.
“Sherlock!” she cried after him as he raced up the stairs and into his room slamming the door behind him “Sherlock!” He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care. Words meant nothing, he didn’t care. DAMN THEM ALL TO HELL AND BACK he raged silently they’d never understand. Damn them all, damn the world! They’d never UNDERSTAND! The built up anger was so great that Sherlock was only vaguely aware of what happened next. It wasn’t until Sherlock’s hand and fist were dripping blood and a smashed window pane was letting the cold night air enter his room that Sherlock realised he’d punched a sizeable hole in his bedroom window.
Mrs Hudson was going to blow her top. “SHERLOCK!” Speak of the devil. “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME IN THIS INSTANT!” Sherlock crossed the room and unlocked the door, cracking it open slightly to reveal his pale housemaid. Mrs Hudson took one look at the window and one look at Sherlock’s face and hand before crossing the room and taking the shaking teen into a vice-like hug. She felt Sherlock slump against her as she continued to hang on to this impertinent, confused, angry boy.
After a while she set him down on his bed, “I’m going to phone for an ambulance” she stated. “NO!” Sherlock made a grab for her wrist as she turned to leave, rotating her back to face him “I’ll take my bike, it’ll be faster.” She stared at him incredulously “but your hand!” she protested.
“I’ve driven with one hand before. I’m good enough and confident enough to do so now and I just need to get away” he explained voice cracking towards the end. She nodded, she knew when it was futile to argue and she was confident enough in his driving skills to let him do so. He drove like the devil but he was good at it.
“Ok then. And I’m guessing that getting a chauffeur to bring you home is a no go?” she asked, kindly eyes crinkling, conveying her meaning. Sherlock looked up at her and smiled a half smile, eyes softening somewhat “not for the moment if you don’t mind.”
She nodded once more and exited the room only to return with bandages and tape. She patched up Sherlock’s hand as best she could before sending him on his way. “Be careful” she shouted as he donned his helmet and slung a lean leg over his bike. He nodded at her and kicked the stand up on his bike before revving it and speeding off down the driveway.
Twenty minutes later and he was at the hospital, Plainsborough General, and leaning against the reception desk explaining his predicament to a pretty red-haired receptionist. “Have a seat” she said gesturing to the waiting room “a doctor will be with you shortly”. “Much obliged” he replied with a wink making her blush. It’s not like I can’t have a little fun after all he thought just because I’m not that way inclined.
After a brief wait an older nurse came to collect him and sat him down in one of the empty rooms on the ward. “Mr Holmes…” a male voice floated in from around the corner “I hear you’ve lacerations from punching a hole in your bedroom windo…” the doctor stopped walking abruptly in shock, staring at Sherlock with a look of amazement.
Sherlock looked up only to meet the eyes of blonde-haired-big-blue-eyed Doctor Watson, the subject with which he had locked lips not hours earlier. Both men stared at each other in amazement before John broke the silence “Well I’ll be damned” he whispered under his breath. Shaking his head as if to refocus he extended both a hand and a smile “John Watson, nice to meet you.” Sherlock took his hand in his own good one and shook “Sherlock Holmes” he replied in kind “although I think the handshaking is a bit out of order, we did make out a couple of hours ago.”
John laughed, the sound like molten gold and much to his surprise Sherlock found himself laughing too. “Well Sherlock, I’m sorry to say but patient confidentiality and privacy means that I can’t take you out later for a drink later after my voluntary shift finishes” John said once the mirth had subsided.
Sherlock thought for a moment before replying “some rules are made to be broken. I think this is one of those times.” John laughed again before nodding “I do believe you’re right. So that settles it, drinks on me.”
Sherlock looked up at the blonde from underneath dark, predatory eyes “on you, eh? Sounds damn good to me.” The blonde tutted trying to smother a grin “I’m WORKING Sherlock! Work hard, play hard? The play bit comes after the work.” Sherlock sagged, frowning slightly.
“However…I’ll make the wait worth your time” the blonde added looking Sherlock dead in the eye and winking “now let’s take a look at this hand…”