fuck titles commentfics dont get no titles 1/2etothepiiJanuary 28 2011, 14:16:25 UTC
oh god so i should be sleeping and also i still have work tomorrow and also i got distracted by video games and also it's fucking six am so hahahaha
um also fucking highschool aus are so fucking entertaining i dont even; also i fucked with the ages and i guess they're all going to a public highschool in america but let's just handwavey that for now
also if mfreem is like 40ish in 2010, and we round that down to john being around 35ish, and we subtract 20 years that's 1990, so they're all queers in the early 90s in america. whelp.
um also warnings for some homophobia i guess; highschools kinda suck like that soorry
Later, John would like to say he meets Sherlock by rescuing him from bullies, or abruptly deciding to sit with him during lunch, or by catching his eye from across the room as if by fate.
Except that that's not how he meets Sherlock. Not the first time.
Because John has a younger sister Harry, who is three years younger than him. The school has a new student -- also a Brit, who is in the same year as Harry. And when Harry goes to introduce herself, he takes one look at her, calls her an idiot, and also outs her to the entire class.
She denies it, of course, but some of the girls have already noticed the way she glances at them, shy out of the corners of her eyes. She comes into John's room in the middle of the night, using a dismantled pen to get past the lock, and when he wakes up to ask her what's wrong, she rubs fat, frightened tears from her eyes and whispers, "I don't want to go to school tomorrow."
It takes him an hour and a half to coax the story out of her, and it doesn't help when she says, "And he told everyone I was a lesbian and now no one's going to talk to me and --" and before she can say anything else, John is stupid and confused and half-asleep, so he interrupts with,
"Are you? A lesbian."
And it causes her to go still and frightened and miserable in his arms, and he hates that. He hates that she's scared, he hates that she's already starting to babble -- "No, of course not, don't be ridiculous, please don't tell mum, please don't tell anyone, I don't -- I'm trying not to --"
"It's okay if you are," he interrupts firmly, and squeezes her. Because he hates her (she's his baby sister, of course he hates her), and she's a brat, and he'd die of embarrassment before he let her stupid giggly friends come over to the house again.
But she's his baby sister, and it doesn't matter that he steals her pens and calls her names and sometimes still tells her she's adopted. Because he's allowed, and no one else is.
He rubs circles on her back, and makes shushing noises, like their mum does when they're sick. "It's okay, Harry," he promises. "I'll take care of it."
So this is how John Watson first says a word to Sherlock Holmes:
After school lets out, he skips out of football practice (American football, which so far as he can tell, is basically rugby-but-for-pansies) and goes to the library, where he waits.
He waits twenty minutes (and ends up half-heartedly completing some homework due in a couple days) before Sherlock finally comes out of the library.
And while later, Sherlock would probably grow tall and striking, right now he is short and a little skinny and smaller than John, small enough for John to grab him by the shoulder and shove him against a wall.
Sherlock sneers at him. "Of course I should have expected a member of a sports team to want to assert himself over me," he says, cold and snobby and sounding just a little like home. "You probably can't do anything but live up to stereotypes. After all, anything else would require thinking."
John punches him in the face. It's not too hard, not harder than he's punched his mates while play-fighting, but the boy in front of him looks too prim and proper (he's wearing a tie, for God's sake!) to have ever been in a playground scuffle.
"That's for my sister," John says, hands clenched into fists. He's -- he's angry, but not enraged. He doesn't really want to throw things or yell. He just wants to erase the memory of the night before from his mind, to wipe away his sister's dread and misery and shame. "I want you to take back what you said about her and tell her you're sorry."
something profound and maybe a little funny about first meetings 2/2etothepiiJanuary 28 2011, 14:17:24 UTC
Sherlock touches a hand to his mouth. A bright spot of blood colors his lower lip, from where John's split it. "Why should I? It was true. She is an idiot, and she is fiercely attracted to her project partner. That's the only possible reason she could have agreed to work with her -- the girl's even more stupid than everyone else is."
"I don't care if it's true or not," John says, and takes a threatening step closer. Sherlock's eyes drop to his hands. "It doesn't matter. Take it back. Tell them you made it up. Tell Emily you made it up, that you were lying."
Emily isn't talking to Harry right now (John walked through the main doors with Harry even though he usually doesn't, and when Harry had tried to greet her, she'd pretended not to hear).
Sherlock's face becomes almost comically confused. "Why? You don't even like her. You avoid her whenever possible, don't like her friends, and spend most of your time with your own friends, on the school's American football team."
"Because she's my sister," John growls. "And. You. Made. Her. Cry." He punctuates each word by tapping on Sherlock's chest with his fist. "She was just trying to be nice, and you were cruel to her and made her cry, and if you ever do it again, I'll beat you bloody."
By the time John finishes talking, Sherlock is looking at his trainers. "I didn't mean to," he says softly. "I wanted her to leave me alone, but I didn't mean to make her cry. I'm sorry."
Oh. Well then. John feels his anger deflate, and he rubs the back of his neck, feeling suddenly awkward. "Good. Tell her you're sorry, and then tell everyone else that you didn't mean it, that you know she's not really a lesbian."
Sherlock peers up at him. "But she is a--" he cuts off abruptly when John raises a hand as if to cover Sherlock's mouth, quickly looking around to see if anyone had heard him. "Ah," he says. "You don't want people to know she's a lesbian, because you're afraid teenaged homophobia will -- will what, upset her? People are stupid, but they aren't that stupid; I'm sure everyone already knows, or else you're all blind."
He didn't do it on purpose, John realizes abruptly, and the last vestiges of his anger disappear completely. He doesn't know what he's doing.
"But it's not okay to be a lesbian. Her best friend won't talk to her because you told everyone you think Harry fancies her. And her other friends don't want anything to do with her anymore, because of what you said." John lowers his voice to a whisper. "It doesn't matter if it's true or not, take it back and don't spread rumors like that around, or someone'll get hurt." He clarifies, when Sherlock raises an eyebrow at him, "And by someone, I mean, my sister, and I don't want her to get hurt, so just lay off."
Sherlock looks up at him steadily. He has the gangly awkwardness of a teenager who still needs to grow into his hands and feet, but there is something in his expression that makes him look almost like an adult. "You're trying to do damage control," he says. "You're threatening me on her behalf, in order to protect her, but you don't delight in it. And you hit me."
"You were a prat to my sister," John repeats. "I'm allowed. Are you going to stop being a prat to her, or not?"
"I'll stop," Sherlock says. He licks a bead of blood from his mouth. "I really am sorry," and his voice sounds sincere. "I forgot to take into consideration how bystanders would react to my words," he says, which sounds enough like, 'Sometimes I say stupid things because I forget people might hear them' that John wants to forgive him.
"Okay, good," he says, and holds his hand out to shake. "John Watson. Glad we got that sorted out."
After a moment, Sherlock takes it. "Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure to meet you."
Re: something profound and maybe a little funny about first meetings 2/2raiiningApril 2 2011, 04:16:03 UTC
'Sawesomeness.
Okay, am going to bed soon. Will stop spamming your inbox.
But I really needed some good fic tonight because work is shitty and seriously medicine is not all its cooked up to be all the time and this helped. Thank you :)
um also fucking highschool aus are so fucking entertaining i dont even; also i fucked with the ages and i guess they're all going to a public highschool in america but let's just handwavey that for now
also if mfreem is like 40ish in 2010, and we round that down to john being around 35ish, and we subtract 20 years that's 1990, so they're all queers in the early 90s in america. whelp.
um also warnings for some homophobia i guess; highschools kinda suck like that soorry
Later, John would like to say he meets Sherlock by rescuing him from bullies, or abruptly deciding to sit with him during lunch, or by catching his eye from across the room as if by fate.
Except that that's not how he meets Sherlock. Not the first time.
Because John has a younger sister Harry, who is three years younger than him. The school has a new student -- also a Brit, who is in the same year as Harry. And when Harry goes to introduce herself, he takes one look at her, calls her an idiot, and also outs her to the entire class.
She denies it, of course, but some of the girls have already noticed the way she glances at them, shy out of the corners of her eyes. She comes into John's room in the middle of the night, using a dismantled pen to get past the lock, and when he wakes up to ask her what's wrong, she rubs fat, frightened tears from her eyes and whispers, "I don't want to go to school tomorrow."
It takes him an hour and a half to coax the story out of her, and it doesn't help when she says, "And he told everyone I was a lesbian and now no one's going to talk to me and --" and before she can say anything else, John is stupid and confused and half-asleep, so he interrupts with,
"Are you? A lesbian."
And it causes her to go still and frightened and miserable in his arms, and he hates that. He hates that she's scared, he hates that she's already starting to babble -- "No, of course not, don't be ridiculous, please don't tell mum, please don't tell anyone, I don't -- I'm trying not to --"
"It's okay if you are," he interrupts firmly, and squeezes her. Because he hates her (she's his baby sister, of course he hates her), and she's a brat, and he'd die of embarrassment before he let her stupid giggly friends come over to the house again.
But she's his baby sister, and it doesn't matter that he steals her pens and calls her names and sometimes still tells her she's adopted. Because he's allowed, and no one else is.
He rubs circles on her back, and makes shushing noises, like their mum does when they're sick. "It's okay, Harry," he promises. "I'll take care of it."
So this is how John Watson first says a word to Sherlock Holmes:
After school lets out, he skips out of football practice (American football, which so far as he can tell, is basically rugby-but-for-pansies) and goes to the library, where he waits.
He waits twenty minutes (and ends up half-heartedly completing some homework due in a couple days) before Sherlock finally comes out of the library.
And while later, Sherlock would probably grow tall and striking, right now he is short and a little skinny and smaller than John, small enough for John to grab him by the shoulder and shove him against a wall.
Sherlock sneers at him. "Of course I should have expected a member of a sports team to want to assert himself over me," he says, cold and snobby and sounding just a little like home. "You probably can't do anything but live up to stereotypes. After all, anything else would require thinking."
John punches him in the face. It's not too hard, not harder than he's punched his mates while play-fighting, but the boy in front of him looks too prim and proper (he's wearing a tie, for God's sake!) to have ever been in a playground scuffle.
"That's for my sister," John says, hands clenched into fists. He's -- he's angry, but not enraged. He doesn't really want to throw things or yell. He just wants to erase the memory of the night before from his mind, to wipe away his sister's dread and misery and shame. "I want you to take back what you said about her and tell her you're sorry."
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Sherlock touches a hand to his mouth. A bright spot of blood colors his lower lip, from where John's split it. "Why should I? It was true. She is an idiot, and she is fiercely attracted to her project partner. That's the only possible reason she could have agreed to work with her -- the girl's even more stupid than everyone else is."
"I don't care if it's true or not," John says, and takes a threatening step closer. Sherlock's eyes drop to his hands. "It doesn't matter. Take it back. Tell them you made it up. Tell Emily you made it up, that you were lying."
Emily isn't talking to Harry right now (John walked through the main doors with Harry even though he usually doesn't, and when Harry had tried to greet her, she'd pretended not to hear).
Sherlock's face becomes almost comically confused. "Why? You don't even like her. You avoid her whenever possible, don't like her friends, and spend most of your time with your own friends, on the school's American football team."
"Because she's my sister," John growls. "And. You. Made. Her. Cry." He punctuates each word by tapping on Sherlock's chest with his fist. "She was just trying to be nice, and you were cruel to her and made her cry, and if you ever do it again, I'll beat you bloody."
By the time John finishes talking, Sherlock is looking at his trainers. "I didn't mean to," he says softly. "I wanted her to leave me alone, but I didn't mean to make her cry. I'm sorry."
Oh. Well then. John feels his anger deflate, and he rubs the back of his neck, feeling suddenly awkward. "Good. Tell her you're sorry, and then tell everyone else that you didn't mean it, that you know she's not really a lesbian."
Sherlock peers up at him. "But she is a--" he cuts off abruptly when John raises a hand as if to cover Sherlock's mouth, quickly looking around to see if anyone had heard him. "Ah," he says. "You don't want people to know she's a lesbian, because you're afraid teenaged homophobia will -- will what, upset her? People are stupid, but they aren't that stupid; I'm sure everyone already knows, or else you're all blind."
He didn't do it on purpose, John realizes abruptly, and the last vestiges of his anger disappear completely. He doesn't know what he's doing.
"But it's not okay to be a lesbian. Her best friend won't talk to her because you told everyone you think Harry fancies her. And her other friends don't want anything to do with her anymore, because of what you said." John lowers his voice to a whisper. "It doesn't matter if it's true or not, take it back and don't spread rumors like that around, or someone'll get hurt." He clarifies, when Sherlock raises an eyebrow at him, "And by someone, I mean, my sister, and I don't want her to get hurt, so just lay off."
Sherlock looks up at him steadily. He has the gangly awkwardness of a teenager who still needs to grow into his hands and feet, but there is something in his expression that makes him look almost like an adult. "You're trying to do damage control," he says. "You're threatening me on her behalf, in order to protect her, but you don't delight in it. And you hit me."
"You were a prat to my sister," John repeats. "I'm allowed. Are you going to stop being a prat to her, or not?"
"I'll stop," Sherlock says. He licks a bead of blood from his mouth. "I really am sorry," and his voice sounds sincere. "I forgot to take into consideration how bystanders would react to my words," he says, which sounds enough like, 'Sometimes I say stupid things because I forget people might hear them' that John wants to forgive him.
"Okay, good," he says, and holds his hand out to shake. "John Watson. Glad we got that sorted out."
After a moment, Sherlock takes it. "Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure to meet you."
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Okay, am going to bed soon. Will stop spamming your inbox.
But I really needed some good fic tonight because work is shitty and seriously medicine is not all its cooked up to be all the time and this helped. Thank you :)
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