Chapter Text
John stood looking out his window, his elbows resting on the sill. It was evening, so he couldn’t see very far, but what he was watching for would be close.
The lights of the top floor bedroom next door turned on, and a dark figure approached the window.
John reached down next to him, picked a penny up off the floor, and threw it.
tack
The window flew open, and a young boy poked his head out, scowling. John grinned,
“John! How many times have I told you to stop throwing money! Do you not realize that I can see you from across my bedroom, staring at me?”
John grinned. “Evening, Sherlock!” He waved.
Sherlock gestured briefly at the slim strip of grass and fence that separated their houses. It was littered with coins. “There ought to be at least ten quid down there!”
John sniggered, “So can I come over then?” He asked, leaning further out the window, “Or do I need to start tossing fivers?”
Sherlock sighed, then bent down, and John smelled victory. When he stood back up, he was holding their ladder--They had pooled their allowances for weeks to afford it, but it made their secret meetings and late night chats much more covert.
The short, metal ladder was scooted across the space between Sherlock and John’s rooms, and John scampered across eagerly. He hopped nimbly through his neighbor’s window and stuck his landing.
“Now then,“ he started, “I have something to show you!” He rummaged through his knapsack and pulled out two copies of the “Doctor Who Adventures” magazine. He showed them to Sherlock. “What do you see?”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “False covers, obviously. Neither you nor I watch Doctor Who and even if you did, why would you purchase two of the same magazine?” he turned his head sideways and looked at the corners of the pages. “Yes. False covers. But what for? What is worth hiding?”
The blonde set the magazines down and looked at his friend seriously. “Sherlock. We are thirteen years old and the only ones in our class, it seems, that have yet to see a girl naked. So I borrowed these--” He waved the magazines about-- ” from Greg. I haven’t looked at them yet, so what do you say?”
Sherlock steepled his hands. “The only ones? That hardly seems likely.” He paced over to his clock, staring at it as he spoke, “I am curious... although this method seems a bit inelegant. Only looking, right John?”
“Only looking.”
Sherlock took a magazine. “Okay.”
~~~
The two sat on Sherlock’s floor and slid off the fake covers. They both stared a minute, blinking at the woman on the cover. She was squatting down with her back to the camera, her high heels on a wooden surface: a desk perhaps. She wore black lingerie and far more makeup than either of them were used to seeing. John swallowed thickly, then turned to the first page.
A well-muscled man held down the woman from the cover, her chest pressed against-- yes, it was a desk. Her mouth hung open and her back was bowed under the pressure of the man’s hands.
They both stared, afraid to turn the page. Sherlock made the first move, then shut his magazine a split second later.
John stared at the distraught expression on his face. “What is it, Sherlock? Should I not look?? Is it gross?”
Sherlock turned his back to him, then promptly lay face down on the carpet, refusing to answer.
John took a deep breath and flipped to the picture that had had such strange effects on his friend.
It was a two-page spread from the man’s point of view. His fingers were buried deep inside woman on the cover, and she was flushed pink all over. John’s own blush was up to his ears. oh. oooohhhhhh.
“Ungh....That’s... this is...Sherlock, look at this!”
The dark haired boy stirred. “No, thank you, John. I’ll stick with the first page, thank you.”
John sighed and tossed Sherlock his magazine and Sherlock, true to his word, turned to that very first picture and sighed.
John continued flipping through his copy, making comments about what he was seeing to Sherlock; he didn’t want his friend to miss out.
“Oh, in this one, he’s fondling her breasts. They’re very large.”
“Fascinating, John.” Mumbled the unenthusiastic Sherlock.
....
“Oh, now she is sitting on his lap and... oh. They’re.....”
“That so?”
....
“This one’s interesting. The left page is just a picture of him cumming. But the right page is her cum-splattered face!”
“What???”
Sherlock snapped out of his nodding trance and sat up, leaning over John’s shoulder to stare.
“What?? John! ugh, that’s just.. this is...”
“Yeah, I know, Sherlock! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time! Look at her face! She is just soo....”
“Oh,” said Sherlock. “Oh.” He stood up and sat at his desk, pretending to sort through notes. John stood and went after him.
“What is it now? Why are you avoiding me suddenly?”
“I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just remembered that i need to organize my desk...”
“You organized your desk yesterday. Tell me what the matter is.”
Sherlock was blushing all the way around the back of his neck. But he stood again and held John by the shoulders, looking him seriously in the eyes.
“John.”
“What?”
“I... don’t like girls.”
“That’s okay, Sherlock. Maybe you just aren’t ready for these kinds of magazines. Sorry I pushed you into it. “
“No, John. I’ll never be ready for those kinds of magazines because I never will like girls.”
“Oh.” John looked Sherlock up and down, like he was assessing him somehow, “Boys then?”
Sherlock scrunched his eyebrows together, “No. Not boys.”
“Then what? You don’t like anybody?”
“Not boys. Boy.... Only one. “
He went back to feverishly shuffling through his desk. John stood over him, just as flushed as Sherlock.
“Well, that’s okay.”
“I know it’s okay.”
“Right... so who is it then?”
“You.”
“Oh.”
“Oh.” repeated Sherlock.
John stared for a minute; he watched as Sherlock tried to hide his discomfort, his disappointment, his worries. Then he leaned in and wrapped his arms around his best friend.
----
Sherlock gasped. “John, you shouldn’t... I mean you don’t have to...”
“I don’t have to what?” He replied, hugging Sherlock’s shoulders a little tighter.
“If you keep hugging me like that, you’ll give me reason to think that maybe you could like boys, too...”
John pulled away from him and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t like boys, Sherlock.” Sherlock’s heart sunk. “But maybe I could like... boy.” He held his hand out to the grey-eyed boy in what would have been an unbearably cheesy gesture if it didn’t make Sherlock’s stomach’s defy gravity. He took John’s hand, and John pulled him up, out of his seat and into a crushingly tight hug.
Sherlock hugged back, nuzzling into John’s neck and inhaling deeply. John’s smell. John’s arms. Johns chest. John’s heartbeat. Being held like this was paradise. Sherlock relaxed and let himself be hugged, eventually hugging John back.
When John slowly pulled away it was torture. It took all of Sherlock’s willpower not to follow those warm arms. But then John’s hands were holding his face and John’s lips were on his lips and everything was paradise again and Sherlock sighed into the kiss. It was chaste and sweet, but it sent shivers down his spine nevertheless.
When they parted, John looked into Sherlock’s eyes.
“Was that your first kiss?”
“Yes. And you?”
John cleared his throat. “It was mine as well.”
“I know.”
They stood smiling shyly at each other for a minute before John glanced out the window. Then at Sherlock’s clock.
“Sherlock, it’s getting late.”
“Yes. I should sleep.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
Sherlock placed a hand on John’s chest.
“And I... don’t want you to leave.”
John leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Then can I sleep here? And can I hold you all night?”
Sherlock blushed, then smiled. “Yeah.”
~~~
John borrowed a pair of pajamas-- they were simultaneously too long and too tight, but he didn’t care because Sherlock was already laying in bed with the covers up to his chin, waiting for him.
John crawled in on the other side of the bed, then scooted over to his friend (boyfriend?) and put a hand on his side as Sherlock rolled to face him, smiling.
“Thank you, John”
“Anything, Sherlock.”
And John wrapped Sherlock up in his arms, pressing his nose into the wild, dark curls, and slept.