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07

I suppose I should be glad that, as tests and finals go, 6th year is kind of a breather year. The OWLs are behind you and the NEWTs are still looming on the horizon but otherwise not an immediate threat. I personally didn't think the OWLs were all that bad, even though my marks were just decent. Nothing to write home about, especially since the family wouldn't know what nocturnal birds have to do with tests anyway. Still, good luck to everyone who's got to square off against the big tests this year, especially if you're still trying to get your head sorted after the school's most recent bout with strangeness.

Ah yeah, about that, the odd mind and body stuff. The only thing I had to deal with was a body that was about 20 years older than it ought've been (and the same height I am now, of course). I remember the whole thing pretty clearly, but I think that's because my mind wasn't changed. So... for those of you who've been told that their brains were mixed up, do you remember anything about those days at all? Is it like you blacked out for a few days, or is it all a little fuzzy, or do you remember all of it clearly?

I ask because I'm sure I'm soon to have a certain conversation, and this'll give me some insight on where that talk will fall on a scale of "awkward" to "stupdendously awkward".

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I don't know if I'd say all of the awkward part is over, but the worst of it is behind us. Probably.

The weather's finally started to turn nice. The Courtyard in the free time after classes?

Sounds good to me. I'll see you then.

[In retrospect, as John makes his way to the courtyard after his final class, maybe he should have been more precise in telling Sherlock when after school and which part of the Courtyard to meet in. Then again, if anyone could figure it out in an instant, it'd be Sherlock. He loved a puzzle, after all.

As he arrives at the Courtyard, John sighs and rubs at his shoulder, weighed down by the extra books in his bag. Even in the extremely unlikely event that it takes Sherlock a while to find him, he can definitely pass the time studying for finals.]

[Sherlock had memorized John's class schedule. It hadn't taken long. He knew John finished before him and so only worried about getting there as fast as possible when his own class was over.

He tried not to jog excitedly to John but he was full of nervous energy. Would things be awkward? Would it be normal? If it was awkward, would they go back on the dating idea or think of something else? There was a lot riding on how well they managed to behave like their normal selves after their written conversation.

Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back as he came up the last few feet, not able to keep the hint of a smile off his lips.]

Hello.

[John had read the same paragraph in his potions textbook three or four times, absorbing precisely none of it. He was too distracted by the butterflies in his stomach to study too hard. Just one more reason to be grateful that 6th year is comparatively forgiving as far as major tests go.

He hadn't dressed up or tried ot make himself look especially nice. Sherlock seemed to like him well enough as he normally was, after all. Besides, he just had a feeling in his stomach that things would end up feeling odd, awkward, and forced if either of them tried changing themselves in a major way. It was adding additional aspects to a relationship, not a complete change from the ground-up.

Still, he jumps a little when he hears Sherlock's voice. But he smiles as he looks up from the impossible-to-concentrate-on textbook.]

Hi. I'd ask how your last class went if I didn't already know that the answer is "dull".

I had some manner of distraction to make it more tolerable. A few fellow students might have been a little unnerved at the smiling but the professor at least saw better than to make me put the journal away.

Go to see you haven't retained any wounds. Knew you wouldn't but it's still good.

[He had to keep reminding himself not to stand too close, maintain 'personal space' as it were. He was rather sure it made him look like a hovering idiot, though.]

God only knows what they thought you were up to, grinning like that with your journal out. [He pauses for a second and scratches his chin, looking like he's suppressing the hell out of a grin.] I managed to make it look like I was taking notes instead of scribbling in my journal.

Yeah, I wasn't looking forward to having to explain any of that. I take it your scratches are gone too, huh? Oh, and also-

[He pats the grass and smiles.]

You can sit down, you know. Instead of looming like some great... loomy... thing.

Edited 2013-05-13 13:01 (UTC)

Right, of course.

[Sherlock smirks a bit and takes a seat within what he imagines is a reasonable proximity.]

Yes, no wounds at all so to speak. Makes it rather like a dream though I think the rat would disagree on that particular quality of the encounter. I was thinking leather garments such as a shirt or vest to be worn as a defensive structure from things like claws or talons. It's much more malleable than actual armor and easier to come by than maille.

[John stares at Sherlock for a few long moments, then finally gives a slow, disbelieving blink.]

Leather... leather protective gear? For what - going after the rat again? Rat Quest 2: This Time It's Personal?

We're not going after the rat. Just... re-investigating the forest with half a mind on safety this time. Weapons are all well and good but close range attacks require protective gear as well. So I thought leather.

[He shrugs, wrapping his arms around his knees as he keeps his long legs tucked in close to his torso.]

But I suppose, with summer fast approaching, the forest will have to wait until next year. Shall we continue with floo powder as a mode of transport? We could rendezvous in Diagon Alley for London exploits. Or, I suppose, I could take a train. If we switch off who's turn it is to plan dates, I'll have to give quite a bit of thought into what we can do on the wizard side of the world when it's my turn--keeping in mind the potential for hospitalization in conflict with your sister's wedding.

Suppose you've got a point there. Even if we cast protection spells on ourselves, it'd probably be worth it to have some kind of defensive gear on, in case the spells fade or somehow get compromised. A lot of the forest seems to have a magic all its own, and who knows how it'll mix with ours.

[He watches Sherlock curl up into a bit of a ball out of the corner of his eye. He briefly wonders if Sherlock is uncomfortable in any way and, after a small moment of deliberation, he decides it might be wise to set another example. He uncrosses his legs from the pose he'd been in as he attempted to study, and stretches his legs out before him. He rolls his shoulders as well, loosening the knot his heavy book bag slightly.]

Floo powder might do. It worked when I went to your place, but your house is in the system. Probably has been for centuries. I'm not sure if the same can be said of my flat, since I'm the only wizard in a family of Muggles. But I am planning on taking the Apparition test soon, so that'll be an option too. Between that magical business and the train, I think we've got loads of ways to see each other often.

But yeah, I'd rather neither of us have a black eye in my sister's photos. Or some magical affliction that'd be even tougher to explain away to the relatives.

Ah, yes, the apparation test. Well, we can schedule it together I suppose. Makes everything easier in the long run. How does broom riding in dragon territory sound, though? Too dangerous?

[So hard to think of what will be fun, what will be mostly safe, and what will be romantic. He's rather given up on the latter. If they both enjoy themselves then surely it would be a good date. He's got time to research.

He watches John adjust his posture, keying in on the little things that make it rather obvious John very much cares about his grades as the year winds down. It's as much that as anything else that means the forest will have to wait. John wants to study and do well and Sherlock will just have to find something else to entertain himself with in the mean time.]

[Okay, that suggestion gets John goggling a bit.]

It's been a while since I was on the Quidditch team, but I reckon I can remember the ropes. But...

[He grins a bit.]

You've ridden brooms before? Recreationally or for sport I mean, stuff outside of the flying classes everyone's got to take in first year.

I'm a wizard. It's one of the oldest modes of transportation and a reasonable recreational habit. Like a bike. Only less sweaty.

Ha, I might think that way due to the fact that the moment I could sit on a broom without falling over, I thought of it as an extension of Quidditch. Not quite up to par with rugby, but certainly fun enough.

[He smirks at Sherlock.]

Though now I'm imagining little you flying around above Mycroft as he's trying to study and dropping buckets of water on him. How close am I to the mark?

[Sherlock smirks a little bit. John knows him quite well.]

Frogs, actually. Wet wasn't nearly as interesting as flailing to rid his person of amphibians.

Do you play rugby in the summer?

[The image of Mycroft trying desperately to get a frog from out the back of his shirt while Sherlock cackles overhead is entirely too much and John finds himself laughing so hard that he has to hold his sides.]

Oh God. That's too good. [He takes a few deep breathes, trying to reign in the giggles.] I'm a bit jealous, now. I only got to throw frogs at my sister the old fashioned way, no magic involved.

As for rugby, I might do. I'm out of practice, since the last time I played was the early bit of the summer before last, before... well, you know. But I wouldn't mind taking it up again.

[Sherlock chuckles with John. Impossible not to. John's laugh is lovely.]

If you do put in a game, I might be interested in watching how it's done. And we never did get in that boxing match. I suppose there's all sorts of sporting activities we could enjoy.

Sure, though whether or not you'd want to participate in the game after watching is another matter. Rugby's one of those sports where being compact and sturdy is an advantage. Between that and us punching each other in the name of gentlemanly sport, it'll be like having our own violent Olympics.

And if any of my mates find out we're dating and give us grief about how rugby and boxing aren't musical theatre at West End, I'll make sure to head-butt them in the solar plexus extra hard during a match.

[Sherlock quirks his left brow in surprise.]

You're surprisingly accepting of other people's knowledge of this. It's not that I thought you'd want us to carry on in secret but... well, if it turns out I'm more trouble than I'm worth in that capacity, you're not going to live down the fact you dated another male.

[John gives a little shrug.]

Well, I did say "if they find out". Though you're right, I'd rather not have us jump through hoops to keep it a secret no matter what.

And, well, if it doesn't work out between us and we do decide to just be friends, then... I don't know, I'll figure out something. [He fidgets slightly, feeling a bit of an uncomfortable knot in his stomach at the idea.] But going into something like this with that kind of thing in mind is just no good. Kind of gives the impression that it's doomed from the start, you know? Best to take this kind of thing a step at a time without big gloomy expectations, otherwise you're writing a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I'm just being realistic. Pessimism would be that you would want nothing to do with me ever again. Obviously impossible. You'd be far too bored and when you weren't bored you'd be worried I'd gone and put myself in harms way when you weren't looking. You're quite stuck with me one way or another. I like this way but I'm not going to work out the best location to settle down after our marriage either.

[He knows something John doesn't. Something that will likely cause an argument. Might make John not want to speak to him for a while. And as much as he will keep it a secret, he's not dumb enough to think it will always remain one.]

[John gives a snort at that.]

So long as we stick to that healthy middle ground between the two crazy zones of "doomed doomed it's all going to go to shit" and "what do you think of this wedding venue because too bad I've already booked it", then we're good. We haven't even been on an official first date yet; it's way, way, waaaaaaaay too early to be concerned with either of those options.

Fine. But no wedding anyway. You think I'd honestly go in for something so pointlessly traditional?

[He smiled at John.]

So what do I call you? My dating partner? My special friend? My beau?

No, you're definitely not the type. In the extremely unlikely event that you did want to get married, I expect I'd find out about it after waking up with a splitting headache, a ring on my finger, and an 8 hour gap in my memory. Possibly while tied to a tree in the middle of an empty field. Needless to say I'm not ready for anything like that yet, thanks.

I dunno. 'Dating partner' just sounds odd, 'special friend' makes it sound like I need a helmet, and 'beau' is... too French. What's wrong with something common like 'boyfriend'?

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