Chapter Text
2055
William approached the waiting room quietly, as one should in a hospital. There was no one around, no sobbing families or cheers of joy. Just an average day. But it wasn’t for the Watson-Holmes family.
William spotted his grandpa sitting in one of the chairs, staring down a clearly old and worn letter. He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, and smiled at his grandson.
“Hello, William.” His usually strong voice was softer, and certainly sadder than usual. Understandable, as Papa was just down the hall, sicker than any of them has suspected until it was too late to do much of anything.
“What cha reading Pops?” William took a seat next to him, leaning over to view the paper.
“Mm, a note your Papa left me once a long time ago. Have we ever told you the story of how we met?” William shook his head no. He knew that his grandfathers had met young, and during a time when it was still difficult for two men to love each other the way they do. “Well, let me tell you now.”
1993, Summer
Aggravated! No, not strong enough. Vexed! Incensed enraged livid furious! Sherlock was positively seething!
He had ran as fast as he could from the house, away from mummy, father, Mycroft, from everyone! He was 17 for god’s sake, and he wanted to make his own decisions, not follow in anyone’s footsteps. Mummy wanted him to go into mathematics like her, but Sherlock wanted to study chemistry. He knew it would be an uphill battle, he just never knew how much both parent’s would resist his wishes.
Sherlock was by the main road, contemplating just running for it. He could make it to London, apply to university on his own, do everything on his own.
Just coming up the road, Sherlock noticed a boy, well a young man, a few years older than himself. Sherlock was still honing his deduction skills, and decided that a bit of logical thinking would help calm him down.
Probably 20, been walking for a long while, obviously running from something, most likely a troubled home life.
But as the man got closer, Sherlock’s deductions tapered in his mind, taking in the blonde hair, spikey and slightly damp with sweat from walking in the summer sun. Dark blue eyes, holding depths of emotions Sherlock couldn’t even begin to understand. A strong body, obvious muscles in his arms that Sherlock wanted to hold him—
Just noticing he was being watched, the young man stopped. Two strangers looking at each other, both sure they weren’t staring at a stranger at all.
“Hello.”
Sherlock’s mouth went dry, and words escaped him as if stolen by this vagabond he met on the street. He managed a nod of greeting, still staring.
Sherlock resolutely doesn’t believe in love at first sight. His mind knew that logically love, if such a thing truly exists, is based off of mutual understandings and goals, positive reinforcements and the release of various pleasurable neurotransmitters at optimal times, and none of those things can happen with a single look at another person.
But looking at this stranger, Sherlock thought to himself that he might be willing to make an exception…
The boy, man, continued. “Are you all right? You’re not lost are you?”
“I’m not a child, nor am I lost,” Sherlock huffed, his anger rising again.
The other man looked Sherlock up and down, not in a leering manner, just a cursory glance before nodding. “No, no I guess you’re not.” He licked his lips. Probably dehydrated from walking, been on the road for at least a few days. “I’m John,” he said. “John Watson.”
“Are you accustomed to introducing yourself to strangers along roads you are unfamiliar with? You’ve clearly been walking for three, no four days. Not from lack of viable public transport, but lack of funds. Possibly saving what meager savings you’ve managed to accumulate before making your way. But you’ve also insufficiently planned for food and water, running out of both within the last 24 hours—“ Sherlock stopped abruptly, realizing he was running at the mouth, and the man-John- most likely wouldn’t appreciate that. He expected the indigent reply any second—
“Amazing! How on earth did you guess all that?” Wide eyed, John appeared sincere, taking Sherlock aback. He doesn’t like being surprised.
He hesitantly explained his deductions (not guesses), receiving another accolade from John, who kept asking Sherlock questions. Before either of them knew it, they were sitting under one of the trees along the road, Sherlock explaining how he is working to refine his deductions further, and his accomplishments with them so far.
They were interrupted by John’s stomach growling, looking sheepish and unwilling to say good bye. Sherlock felt the same, although he had no logical reasoning as to why.
“I can get you some food, and some water too. No one will notice if anything goes missing from the kitchen.” Sherlock offered, tilting his head down the driveway he had run down, seemingly a lifetime ago yet by the sun he could tell it had only been about an hour.
Nodding, John followed, still looking uncomfortable, but obviously willing to trust Sherlock.
2055
“So I followed him to his home, and we snuck into the kitchens together, trying not to giggle like children. I had fallen harder and quicker than I think anyone ever has, because after knowing him for only an hour, I knew he was the one for me. But I was on my way to London, having been accepted to Bart’s, and this was my only break. I had been so determined once I left my home behind that I wasn’t going to let anything get in my way…
But that was before I’d met your grandfather.”
1993
Eating one of their stolen apples, Sherlock eyed John. He couldn’t understand how after such a short period of time he could feel his heart already realigning itself to orient to where John was. And John had a plan: go to London and train to be a doctor.
“I want to go with you.” Sherlock said suddenly, an idea forming in his head.
“Go where?”
“To London.”