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“Raaaar…feel my Asgardian wrath!” John yelled, tearing into the living room sporting his recently painted Thor crown and red towel/cape. “Sherlock!”
John dropped his Styrofoam hammer and almost tackled his babysitter to the ground.
“Good afternoon, John,” Sherlock said with a small grin. “Am I detecting a theme for this evening?”
“Did you see it?!” John blurted out, barely able to contain his excitement. He was practically quivering with excitement, “It was brilliant! With the explosions! And Hulk! Puny God!”
“I haven’t had a chance yet,” Sherlock grinned and crouched down to adjust John’s askew crown, “What’s this made out of?”
“Milk carton and pipe cleaners!” John said, grinning adorably, “And look at my hammer! Jolinmir! Mum made it for me!”
“Mjölnir,” Sherlock corrected kindly, “And it is quite impressive.”
“Do you wanna play?” John asked hopefully.
“Let me just go over the particulars of this evening with your mother and then I would be more than happy to play with you,” Sherlock said positively, “I guess that makes me Loki.”
“No!” John said gasping in disbelief, “Loki’s the bad guy! You can’t be the bad guy! You have to be Iron Man!”
“That settles it then,” Sherlock answered with a smirk and another readjustment of John’s woefully cockeyed helmet, “But who will be our villain?”
John glanced around his living room quickly before laying eyes on their gray house cat, “Rupert! He can be Loki.”
“Alright,” Sherlock smiled, “Go work on our battle plan and I’ll just have a quick chat with your mother.”
“Acceptable, Man of Iron,” John said firmly before taking off to complete his S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in bedroom. He was putting the final touches on the bedsheet fort when he heard his mum call down the hall.
“Have a good evening, Johnny.” She said happily.
“Bye, Mum! Love you!” John called back rearranging his action figures around the Tupperware container he was using as their table.
“Now, John,” Sherlock said firmly, “Do we need to review The Art of War or are we just going to dive into this melee with chaos and surprise on our side?”
“Which one will be more exciting?” John asked.
“Chaos, definitely,” Sherlock answered.
“Grab your suit, Man of Iron!” John called, “We attack at dusk!”
Three hours and one broken Styrofoam hammer later, John was splayed out on the floor of the living room with his glass of orange juice on his stomach watching “How to Train Your Dragon” while Sherlock sprawled on the couch and played with his mobile.
“What grade are you going to be in now, Sherlock?” John asked blandly.
“Well, I’m starting University this year,” Sherlock said hesitantly.
“Harry was in University for a bit,” John said knowingly, “She used to stay out late and told mum she was studying, but she wasn’t. I’m going to be in 2nd grade.”
“I know,” Sherlock answered with a smile.
“Nobody else thinks I’m supposed to be in 2nd grade,” John huffed, irritated, “They say I still look like a baby.”
“You don’t look like a baby, John,” Sherlock said firmly, “Other people are just idiots. You shouldn’t listen to them.”
“Is University close to my school?” John asked, “Maybe we could walk home together when you’re watching me in the afternoons.”
“Cambridge is a bit of a walk from here,” Sherlock said awkwardly.
“I guess you’ll just have to take the bus, then,” John answered.
“John, about this autumn…” Sherlock started gently.
“Mum’s back!” John said happily, as he heard the lock click on the front door.
“Hello, boys,” His mum said. “Johnny, say goodbye to Sherlock and go put your jimjams on.”
“Okay,” John said, bouncing to his feet almost spilling his drink everywhere, “Night, Sherlock! See you Sunday!”
“Goodnight, John,” Sherlock said quietly before ruffling John’s curls lightly, “I’ll see you soon.”
John quickly made his way down the hall but realized he had to double back to put his cup in the sink because Mum didn’t like him to have drinks in his room. He halted suddenly when he heard his mum and Sherlock talking quietly by the front door.
“I really do appreciate you watching him last minute like this,” His mum said tiredly, “Harry was supposed to do it but she decided her current role as a roadie was too important.”
“I didn’t mind in the slightest, Ms. Watson,” Sherlock reassured, “It was good to see John one last time before I leave.”
“So when are you off tomorrow?” She asked curiously.
“Early,” He answered, “Mycroft’s determined to have us on the road by 7am.”
“You best get home. That’s an early start,” She smiled, “Are you planning on coming home often?”
“I don’t expect so,” Sherlock said, “It’ll be nice to get away from here. Start a new chapter.”
“You were always a bit too big for this little town,” His mum answered.
John felt his fingers lose their grip on his cup and it clattered against the floor loudly. His entire chest felt shredded and empty. He stood there in the hall panting loudly and trying to process what he’d just heard. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. No. No! Sherlock couldn’t leave! He promised! John focused on his mum’s sad face and Sherlock’s uncomfortable one.
He launched across the space and threw his arms tight around Sherlock’s waist and clung on for dear life.
“I’m sorry!” John said frantically, “Whatever I did, I’m sorry! You can’t go! You promised! Please! I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise. Just don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
“John…” Sherlock said resting a hand on John’s head trying to soothe the anxious kid, “I’m not leaving you…”
“Yes, you are,” John said brokenly, “I heard you. You’re not coming back. I heard it.”
“I’m just going away to school,” Sherlock said quietly, “Just think of it like I’m going on holiday for a bit. Just longer.”
“But school’s forever,” John said, “And you’ll forget about me. You won’t come back. Nobody ever comes back.”
“Sweetie,” His mum said trying to extract him from his babysitter, “Sherlock’s got to go to school. Don’t you want him to go learn everything so that he can be really smart?”
“He’s already smart. He’s like the smartest,” John hiccupped, “He doesn’t need to be any smarter. He’s my friend. He can’t go.”
“Oh, Johnny,” His mum said sadly, “Sherlock doesn’t belong to you. He needs to live his own life, but that doesn’t mean you’ll never see him again.”
“Hey,” Sherlock said, delicately extricating himself from John’s fierce grip to crouch down and hold his shoulders gently, “You can write to me anytime you like. You can even call me when your mother says it’s alright. I’m not leaving you, John. I’m just going on an adventure.”
“Can I come?” John pleaded, “I want to go on the adventure with you.”
“You’ll go an adventure someday, John,” Sherlock said with a small smile, “But it’ll be your adventure. A journey just for you.”
“You’ll come back to visit?” John asked tentatively.
“I promise that whenever I’m in town I’ll come see you,” Sherlock said honestly, “Now give me a hug, alright?”
John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock’s neck and held on tight for several seconds.
“I love you, Sherlock,” John whispered into those messy curls.
“I love you too,” Sherlock said firmly, “Don’t forget to call me. I’d be lost without my study partner.”
John nodded but couldn’t talk past the lump that was scrapping against his throat. He stood silent and deflated as Sherlock made his way out into the night and away from John. He shrugged off his mum’s suggestion of some hot cocoa and went to his room, shutting the door behind him, and crawling into his bed. He fought back the tears that were trying to escape. Only babies cried and Sherlock had said he wasn’t a baby. He tucked himself up tighter in his little bed and made a promise to himself that he’d be really good. Sherlock would have to come back if he was super good. He’d have to.