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"It'll be fun!" John had exclaimed after laying the tickets over Sherlock's work. Sherlock kept his eyes glued to his book. "I don't have time for 'fun', John." John rolled his eyes. "Oh come on Sherlock. You've been stuck inside this stuffy old room for ages now. At least try it? I know for a fact that you've never been to a carnival, and I plan to be the first person to take you."
Sherlock finally peeled away from his extra school work and looked up with his icy blue eyes that never really seemed to stay the same color for very long. John's eyebrows were raised as he awaited an answer.
"And how would you know that? Did Mycroft tell you?" A sly smirk made its way over John's face. "No. It's obvious, really. You, Sherlock Holmes, are the only person to never have experienced pure fun - let alone a carnival."
Sherlock let out a long breath and looked back at John, who seemed to be studying him for some reason. Sherlock's mind raced with all of the reasons not to go and to keep studying and to tell John to find someone else like that (Graham? Gavin?) fellow down the hall from their dorm, when he found himself sighing, "Fine; I'll go."
John's face instantly lit up and he smiled wide. "Great! Tonight's their last night. I'll meet you around 5, down in the main lobby and then we can go to the carnival."
"Why so long? We could just go now-" Sherlock was cutoff before he could explain. "No way. You, my friend, are in need of a shower because you wreak of books - which I'm not saying is a bad thing, but it's a bit overwhelming - and you have been wearing the same outfit for three days straight. I’m not going to walk around with somebody who looks like they just got out of their death bed. I'm going to run a few errands and come back so we can go."
John leaned down close and jabbed a finger in front of Sherlock's face. "You better be ready by the time I'm done, got it?" Sherlock returned John's joking smile with a serious "got it." John couldn't help but feel a bit tingly by Sherlock's deep-voiced answer. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and stood up-right once more.
He grabbed his coat off of his bed and swung open the door before turning around and smiling at Sherlock, who was only lit by the lamp desk and warm sunshine leaking from the window's blinds, and saying, "See you at 5."
A little after 5, John returned to the school's lobby, preparing an apology for being late when he found no one in there. He fumed a little, thinking Sherlock was still upstairs in the same clothes he was wearing before he left with his nose crammed into another book.
He began to trudge up the stairs, but collided with a faster moving person going the opposite way. "Sorry!" John exclaimed to the boy he had just run into. He was pale and tall and had on a purple T-shirt that did nothing to hide his ridiculous muscles underneath and had soft-swirling black locks and eyes that-
"Sherlock?" John gasped. Sherlock looked so new and out of character to John. His hair was still the swirly mess it had always been, but was now (thankfully) clean and shiny and somehow seemed softer than ever. He had never worn anything beyond the school's uniform except for his own personal suits for when John was able to [finally] convince him to go out into town on a Saturday and 'relax'; so the tight T-shirt was most definitely odd, yet John felt himself thanking God how small it was on the boy. But his eyes were the best part; they were brighter and just as quick as the first day John had met him, and John suddenly felt the urge to stare at those eyes all day.
"John," Sherlock deadpans. Under Sherlock's gaze, John suddenly feels self-conscious of how he looks. He hasn't changed from his T-shirt and jeans he had thrown on that morning, and was looking most definitely rumpled – despite the calm, warm weather. "You're late," Sherlock said and gave a small, yet not all that comforting, smile. John returned it with one of his own. "Sorry. You already know what I was doing, so no point in explaining. Do you have the tickets?" Sherlock admired how well John knew him, even if it had only been 3 months since they've met.
John began school at the start of the second semester because his parents had moved to that area. He was surprised to have someone a couple of years younger than him in the same grade, but was instantly fascinated by his capabilities to detect the smallest things and somehow know all about him from it. He was incredible.
"Let's go then," John said, acknowledging Sherlock's expression as "yes of course; don't be daft". They caught a cab and headed into town.
John handed the ticket stubs over to a person behind a small booth and led Sherlock the way behind the gate into the large plaza that was littered by rides, booths, and snack machines. "C'mon!" John exclaimed, grabbing Sherlock's hand and dragging him along.
Meanwhile, Sherlock was looking around at all of the lights and people, trying to drown out the obnoxious repetitive music that played overhead. They passed by a booth that presented 3 baseballs along a table up front and 3 milk bottles stacked like a pyramid in the back. Sherlock stopped and stared at a little stuffed bee that hung above the balls.
John walked a few more steps before realizing he was walking alone. He whipped around to find Sherlock staring up like a little kid at a stuffed toy. He smiled to himself as he walked over to his friend and joined him, seeing what Sherlock was staring at with such interest. "How much to play?"
The man turned his attention away from picking up some balls off the ground to John. "One dollar per ball." John laid the money down on the table and the man took the three bills. "Have a go at it, Sherlock."
John gestured towards three balls that waited patiently for someone to pick them up and throw them. Sherlock shoots him a quizzical look but grabbed a ball anyways.
He recoiled his arm and threw the ball. "Oh! Too bad," said the carni. "Try again." He tried again. Total. Miss. "Not even close. One more." Sherlock ignored the man's words and picked up his last ball and took a deep breath. "Focus," he told himself. He calculated all of the angles and force he would need to use to knock down the bottles. He recoiled his arm with such precision and threw with the exact amount of force he needed for a bulls-eye.
A bottle slightly rocked as the ball nicked it. Sherlock let out a long sigh. "You can play again for another dollar," the man behind the counter said, leaning on the flat surface with balls laid out before him.
"This game is rigged!" Sherlock fumed. "I calculated the precise angle and force needed to hit the bottles dead on and knocking them over. How could I have missed! I actually hit it on the last one and it didn't fall over. This game is some trick to get your money." John put a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Calm down," he said. "I'll try." Sherlock let out a huff and John smiled.
"One ball," he said as he laid another dollar onto the counter. The man slid the dollar into a slot and gave John a ball. Sherlock turned around and leaned onto the table, studying John from his peripheral. His face hardened and a bit of his tongue stuck out like it did whenever he concentrated really hard. His recoil was further than needed and his stance was a little off. Sherlock rolled his eyes thinking, "Don't embarrass yourself, John. If I couldn't do it, then-"
A sound like plastic falling to the ground was made behind him. "Great job!" he heard the carnie say. Sherlock whipped his head around to find the impossible-to-knock-down bottles gone from their place and scattered on the ground. John smiled and turned to Sherlock, whose face showed just how baffled he was. John laughed.
"Pick your prize," the carnie said as he grabbed a stick with a hook at the end from behind the counter. John gestured to Sherlock. Sherlock looked back up at the bee and pointed. "That one." The carnie took the stuffed prize down and handed it to Sherlock before picking up the bottles and putting them back in a perfect pyramid. John began walking towards a non-specific area and Sherlock joined him, hugging the bee closely to his chest.
It was round and yellow except for its one large black stripe in the middle, tiny triangle stinger on its end and its black, stitched-in eyes and smile. It had white leaf-shaped wings that were tiny compared to the rest of its body, sitting on its back. "What're you going to name it?" John's question caught Sherlock a bit off guard. "What?"
"I said what are you going to name it?"
"Why would I name it?"
"You know, to call it something other than 'that stuffed bee toy from a carnival'. You got to give it a name."
"You name it. You won it."
"Yeah, for you. It's yours now; you name it."
Sherlock stayed grounded.
"Fine," John huffed. "William."
"William? What kind of name is that for a bee?"
"You said to name it! Besides, it's William as in William Shakespeare. You know: 'to bee, or not to bee?’ Get it?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Seriously, John?" John smirked a little and then turned his attention back to where they were walking. "Oh!" he gasped.
John grabbed Sherlock by the wrist and dragged him over to an entrance of a house of mirrors. When they entered, they saw multiple versions of themselves. One mirror in particular made John seem like the tall one and Sherlock the short one.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "I'm taller than you now!" Sherlock's face was unamused, which sent John into hysterics. "You can be such a child," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. John wiped away the imaginary tears in his eyes and grabbed Sherlock by the arm. "C'mon you big lug; let's get out of here."
After a few other booths and riding some rides (one in particular Sherlock loved because it was the fastest and he rode it 20 times), they stopped and got some snacks. John got himself a drink and churro while Sherlock eyed the cart.
John directed his attention to where Sherlock was staring. "Do you want some of that?" John asked. "I've never had it before, but most likely not," Sherlock replied. John rolled his eyes. "Of course you haven't, but you don't know if you like it until you try it."
Before Sherlock could protest, John was at the register, handing the person money. After a couple of seconds, he was handed a long, skinny paper cone with a pink cloud wrapped around it.
"One cotton candy for a Sherlock Holmes," John announced as he handed the sugary cloud over to his friend. Sherlock inspected the treat before glaring at John. "It's good; I promise," John said, pinching off a piece of fluff and sticking it in his mouth. "Mmm. Now you try it."
Sherlock hesitantly took off a small piece and placed it on his tongue. He winced at the suddenly melted sugar on his tongue but enjoyed the flavor. He tore off a bigger piece and stuffed it into his mouth, feeling the odd rush of solid tingling into a sticky liquid. "Knew you'd like it," John smiled. Sherlock nodded softly, closing his eyes.
Sherlock was ¾ done with the swab when he offered some to John, who was slightly helping by sneaking off a few pieces when Sherlock wasn't looking. John shook his head. They passed by a trash bin and Sherlock threw the rest of it away. "It got boring and tedious after a while," he explained. John nodded.
As soon as they turned the corner from the trash bin, John stopped and leaned against a wall. "My feet are beginning to hurt. Can we sit down?" Sherlock looked around but didn't see any place to sit, when John pointed towards a large metal circle that had benches that secured people with flimsy rods of metal. "Want to ride the Ferris wheel?" Sherlock shrugged. He'd never been on a Ferris wheel before, but was sure John had already known that.
They went over to the lady operating the wheel and asked to how much. "It's almost closing time, and since you two are my last costumers of the day, you can ride for free." John thanked her as Sherlock sat down on the bench next to him. She sent them going backwards and into a complete circle.
"She recently broke up with her long-term boyfriend, most likely of 3 years, but has met someone new as well. Probably while she was still with her previous partner," Sherlock grumbled into John's ear. John got goosebumps all over. He was so close, he could feel Sherlock's hot breath tickle his ear. So close, John could just lean in and-
The wheel came to a halt at the top, jolting them forward a bit. John braced the seat while Sherlock locked a firm grip on John's arm and the "safety" bar. A small speaker came from below. "Sorry boys! Minor malfunction in the system. We'll get it fixed right away, don't worry."
Sherlock's grip began to relax. John looked over at Sherlock, who was looking up at the sky. John looked up too and smiled. The stars shined brighter here than on the school's roof. All of the floodlights at the school blocked out the lights that were millenniums away, but there were barely any lights here and the sky was more clustered than John could have imagined. Sherlock's hand began to relax and slowly fall down. John looked down at the gentle hand that was slowly making its way to his own.
He felt his muscles relax and heart race. He looked back at Sherlock's face in a panic but it seemed that he was unaware of what he was doing. His eyes were focused on the cluster of stars above, which were reflected into his beautiful green and blue and grey and hazel and violet (holy humus there are so many) colored eyes. The stars looked twice as beautiful.
John couldn't help but begin to lean towards his friend. His best friend, an ugly reminder screamed in his head. He was about to pull back when Sherlock's hand finally rested on his, making Sherlock look back down at John. His face seemed more relaxed than it had earlier that day. He began to lean in as well.
"John," Sherlock murmured.
"Mm," John responded.
"We-we should ask,"
"Yeah?"
"What's taking so long..."
"Ok."
They leaned in, centimeters apart; soft puffs of breath intermingling as they slowly became closer and closer until a jolt jostled them in their seats and began moving them forwards. They quickly shuffled to their own sides of the bench and quickly got off of the ride when they reached the ground.
Their faces were scarlet red and they walked back in awkward silence to their dorm. Sherlock left the bee at the carnival and didn't realize it until they were halfway home. He didn't want to tell John he had left it. He didn't want to tell John anything. He no longer wanted to exist.
The next day the two of them stepped back into their regular routine, but John still felt a bit weird. Questions ran through his mind all day:
What if I had kissed him? Did he really want to kiss me too or was it just in the moment? I can never tell with him... and so on.
Sherlock tried his best to erase the memory from his mind palace, but all he could think about was the carnival and William Shakespeare the bee that he secretly named John when he received it and how close they were and-
He dismissed the whole thing again, or, at least, tried to.
Eventually they became a bit more comfortable around each other again and continued to be the best of friends; old feelings buried deep within themselves.