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“John, please stop tugging at your tie,” his mum begged, “Tom’ll have to re-do it again.”
“Sorry,” John huffed, glancing around the restaurant impatiently.
Harry and him had gone with his mum and Tom to the courthouse today to watch them get hitched. Now, they were having a dinner for the family and a few friends and John had been allowed to invite a guest. He’d sent Sherlock a letter about it weeks ago and Sherlock had said that he would try to come. John watched, distracted, as cousins and Mum’s friends from work and some people he didn’t know from Tom’s family filed into the private room. Harry was practically laying on a girl named Clara who his sister had said was a Cancer and her perfect match. Clara seemed nice enough. It was five minutes until dinner was supposed to start and John was feeling tendrils of disappointment wrap around his heart.
“John,” Tom called out to him from his perch by the entryway, “Your mum wants everyone to get settled. Come have a seat.”
“I’m waiting for Sherlock,” John explained, “He said he’d try to come.”
“John,” Tom sighed, “He said he’d try to come. That doesn’t mean he’ll be able to. Plus, he probably has other commitments.”
“He’d have called though,” John answered, “If he knew he couldn’t come.”
“Come on, John,” Tom motioned, “This is your mother’s day. Behave, alright?”
John gave the door one last glance before heading into the room. Tom wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him into the room when he heard someone knock on the frame.
“Am I late?” Sherlock asked sheepishly.
John launched himself at his old babysitter and wrapped his arms around his waist tightly.
“You’re always late,” John mumbled into Sherlock’s stomach.
“My apologies,” Sherlock said, “You’ll never believe the stories I have to tell you.”
“We’re just about to sit down,” Tom interrupted, “You’re the babysitter, I take it.”
“Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock said absentmindedly, before letting John lead him over to their table.
Sherlock slid gracefully into the chair next to John at one of the circular tables off to the side. He was seated at a kid’s table, surrounded by Tom’s sister’s four children. The addition of Sherlock’s lanky form amongst the group was laughable at best.
“You’re not a kid,” The eldest one sniffed into his Shirley Temple.
“It’s true that it has been several years since I reached the age of maturity,” Sherlock said evenly, “But I find the company at this table far superior.”
“Mum says I’m a singular human being,” One of the twins said haughtily.
“Considering your monozygotic sibling to your left,” Sherlock drawled, “I’d have to fault your mother for not owning a dictionary.”
“You’re weird,” The child sneered.
“He’s brilliant,” John cut in firmly.
“You’re both weird,” The other twin sniffed.
And with that, the conversation between the kids and Sherlock and John was concluded for the evening. John shifted his chair to face Sherlock and grinned widely.
“You’ve gotten taller,” Sherlock said with a smirk.
“Mum says I’ve grown almost an inch,” John said proudly, unconscious stretching is posture upward in response.
“Impressive,” Sherlock answered seriously, “School going well?”
“It’s okay,” John shrugged, “Mum says I’m starting a new school in the autumn.”
“Oh?” Sherlock asked evenly, “Where’s that?”
“Dunno,” John said fiddling with his fork, “It’s the type where you live there.”
“What brought this on?” Sherlock asked calmly.
“Tom says it’ll be good for me,” John said quietly, “’Toughen me up a bit’ is what he says.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Sherlock said fiercely, “Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”
John felt a weight lift a little from his chest. He met Sherlock’s open face with a tentative smile that turned quickly into a laugh as Sherlock ruffled his hair.
“Do you want to go?” Sherlock asked following a small silence between the pair.
John shrugged again but answered honestly, “I don’t know. Tom’s pretty chuffed with the idea and Mum keeps saying that it’s such a ‘huge opportunity’ and stuff. I think it’d make her happy.”
“What would make you happy?” Sherlock countered.
John’s only real answer was another shrug and a sigh. The changed the subject once the food had arrived and Sherlock had John cackling loudly with stories from Sherlock’s time at University. The dinner was over and guests were slowly leaking away when John’s mum made her way over.
“Sherlock!” She called out happily, “It is so very good to see you! Your mum tells me all about your high marks.”
“My greatest achievement apparently,” Sherlock answered.
“We were so worried that you weren’t going to make it,” She continued, “You do look a bit peaky, dear. Are you not feeling well?”
“A minor cold,” Sherlock answered quickly, “John was mentioning about his new school…”
“Isn’t it just a complete wonder?” Mrs. Hoyt beamed, “Tom worked so very hard to get him in and the school is just fantastic.”
“Noelle?” Tom called, “Do we have John? We should get going. The bill’s all settled.”
“Mum, can Sherlock come over for a bit more tonight?” John begged, “We haven’t seen each other in ages.”
“Oh, not tonight, sweetie,” his mum said sadly, “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Why don’t I come home again in the next month or so?” Sherlock tried, “Or maybe you can come visit me with your mum one weekend?”
“Okay!” John answered happily he’d always wanted to visit Sherlock’s school.
“We’ll see, shall we?” Tom said vaguely, “Ready, everyone?”
“Sherlock,” his mum said, hugging the young man firmly, “Thank you for coming. I know it meant the world to Johnny.”
“I was happy to,” Sherlock answered.
“Bye, Sherlock,” John said, sounding kind of gloomy.
Sherlock ruffled John’s curls again before pulling him into a warm hug, “Goodbye, John. Call me soon, alright?”
“Alright,” John breathed into Sherlock’s side, “I promise.”
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“Mum,” John called out as he brought the post in for the day, “Another one came back. Did I get the address wrong again?”
His mum glanced over his shoulder and lightly kissed his temple before patting his arm lightly, “That’s the right address, sweetie. Maybe he moved again.”
“But he normally sends me the correct address within a few weeks,” John said, getting frustrated, “I’m going to try to call him again.”
“John,” Tom said sternly, “Don’t you think you’re making a nuisance of yourself? You call him all the time and he doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s trying to give you a hint.”
“Tom, please,” His mum said tiredly.
“Do you think that’s true?” John asked quietly, “I mean it’s been a while since I heard back.”
“I’m sure he’s just busy, sweetie,” His mum cajoled.
“I just want to give him my new address,” John said, “So that he can write me back.”
“It’s been six months,” Tom said, gruffly, “I’m sure he has better things to do and so do you. When you agreed to this, John, you made a promise that you would commit to it. I pulled a lot of strings to get you that scholarship and you’re lucky that I know one of the teachers. You’re not going to let me down, are you?”
“No,” John answered, “Of course not. I’m committed. I’m gonna try really hard.”
“That’s my boy,” Tom replied with a flick of his newspaper not noticing the slightly aggravated look on John’s face, “Look at you. Got your new haircut and everything. Now, you look like a man.”
“He’s not even eleven, Tom,” His mum said quietly, “I don’t know why they had to practically shave his lovely hair off.”
“Because he’s gonna grow up to be a soldier,” Tom said firmly, “Soldiers are tough. That’s a tough haircut right there.”
John ran his hand over his buzzed hair and sighed heavily. He dropped the rest of the post on the counter, grabbed the phone, and made his way to his packed up room slowly. He was leaving next weekend. He glanced around the space that had been his for the past 10 years and felt uncertainty and anxiety slide icily across his skin. He dialed the number he knew by heart for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months. He fully expected to leave another pathetic voicemail when he felt his heart leap in his chest.
“Hello,” Sherlock’s voice called out blearily through the phone line.
“Sherlock!!” John almost shouted into the line, “I’ve been trying to talk to you for ages and all my letters have been coming back.”
“John?” Sherlock said, sounding confused and hazy.
“Sherlock?” John asked, “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m sorry, John,” Sherlock breathed, “I’m not really up to chatting right now. My recuperation is rather trying.”
“Oh,” John answered, “Should I call back later then?”
“Why don’t I give you a ring on the weekend?” Sherlock sighed, “Gotta dash, sorry.”
“But it’s Saturday…” John replied quietly to the dialtone.
John dropped the phone heavily on his carry-all. He picked up the pamphlet on his bedside table and let his eyes wander over the photo of his new school. St. Vincent’s Military Academy. He catches sight of himself in the mirror with his practically bald head and feels a cold sort of acceptance fall over his skin like armor.
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John was just about to lug his final bag into Tom’s car about a week later when he heard someone walking up the driveway. He turned and felt a smile tug at his lips.
“Mrs. Holmes,” John greeted her, “Is Sherlock with you?”
“Oh, no, John,” She said, sounding worn and tired, “Not today. Is your mother in?”
“Yeah,” John said leading her back into the house, “Did Sherlock get a new address because I’ve tried to send him a letter…”
“I’ll let him know that you’re trying to get in contact with him, shall I?” She said.
“That’d be great. Thanks.” He said.
His mum entered the room and took one look at Mrs. Holmes before telling John to go outside and keep himself busy for a bit. He sat on the porch for about twenty minutes before Mrs. Holmes exited the house again and left without another word. Her face was all splotchy and red from crying. John wandered inside to find his mum running her hands through her hair in exasperation.
“Mum?” He asked hesitantly, “Is everything alright?”
“Fine, dear,” she answered noncommittally.
“What’s wrong?” John pushed lightly.
His mum sighed heavily and seemed to collapse under a weight.
“Come here, sweetie,” his mum said motioning for him to come stand by her chair, “I wouldn’t expect to hear from Sherlock for a while, okay?”
“Why?” John asked, “Is he alright?”
“He’ll be fine, John,” she replied, “He’s just…sick…right now. He’ll be better soon.”
“Can I go see him?” John commented.
“He’s not really able to see anyone right now,” She answered.
“Can I call him?” John pleaded, “I’m sure he’d want to talk to me. Right, mum?”
“This isn’t about you,” his mum shrugged, “He’s got his own life to figure out.”
“Oh,” John said heavily.
“Tom’ll be here in the next half hour,” his mum changed the subject, “Are you all ready to go?”
“Yeah,” John answered, “All packed.”
“This’ll be good for you, sweetie,” his mum said vaguely, “Fresh start.”