Not A Thing You Get To Choose

    After Sherlock was done sitting and pondering the meaning of life he finally put on his stupid hat (which Mycroft had ever so graciously included in the bundle) and started down the road with his tin, shaking it about while Merlin perched on his shoulder rand cawed insistently at people to listen to him. Sherlock stood off near the middle of town square, drawing attention to himself by creating a loud bang and a puff of smoke, making everyone within distance jump fearfully.
"Gather round my friends, gather round!" Sherlock called excitedly, holding up his hands as if to conjure something else when in all reality he was waiting on someone to produce an article of clothing or an accessory that might prove to be useful. A couple of people stopped, in an effort to see what he might be doing, and thankfully one of them was wearing a hat. Hats were always quite useful to sorcerers, simply because no one could see that he was actually pulling a certain something out of a hat. Sherlock did a little trick that certainly caught people's attention; however it wasn't all together discreet. In fact it was only too obviously magical, it was a trick that could never be performed in the presence of Mycroft or the law; however it was always a crowd pleaser. Now Sherlock stole the hat off of the man's head, a nice deep top hat that was all together ghastly, and he stuck his arm in it. And then, out of thin air, his arm appeared in some lady's basket, as if by a portal, and took her apple. He stole it nice and slow, so that the people could notice that his arm was in fact not in the hat, and in her shopping. It caused a great uproar when he finally pulled his hand out of the basket and held up the apple for the woman to take. Now when he threw It to her, of course, he caught it in the hat and it materialized back into her basket safe and sound, to very great applause. And now Sherlock set the hat on the ground and stuck his foot in it, pointing for the crowd to look over at the passerby as his foot appeared just in time to trip some poor man trying to make his way along the market, making him stumble and curse as he fell into the dirt. Did I mention this trick wasn't really legal? The crowd clapped and cheered, and Sherlock took a bow by shaking the hat about and placing it excitedly on his head, yet it was all part of the trick of course, for his head vanished underneath it. And then suddenly he was seeing from the perspective of a baby carriage, his head sitting next to a baby that had suddenly begun to cry for some odd reason. The woman had been in the crowd, presumably, and yet she still screamed when he politely said hello. When Sherlock finally returned the hat the man was looking completely perplexed, staring at it as if wondering just how his hat had the ability to do such a thing, and when Sherlock finally took his final bow the crowd filled up nearly half the tin with coins and notes, evidently overwhelmed and very happy to donate to a good street performer. That was enough, far more than enough, added onto to the money that was still bouncing around in his coat pocket; well he was set for another month! And he was set as well, to retreat back to his tent and relax until John came to take him to lunch, which should be any minute now! Sherlock hasted back to his tent, now with his money tin filled quite substantially and his hunger beginning to get the best of him. Maybe he should just stop to get a snack? No, that would be considered rude, especially if John arrived and he was already eating when they were supposed to have lunch together. No he had to go back, he had to go back and wait. Merlin flew around Sherlock's head a whistled away, maybe he was feeling the happiness that was stirring in Sherlock's stomach, that or he was just whistling because that was what birds do. To be honest Sherlock was always confused with Merlin's brain, whether or not he was a human or a bird was still yet to be seen. He acted like a human more so, however then again Sherlock was reminded that sometimes he really was just an animal (and those sometimes were when he pooped on things that really shouldn't be pooped on, like John's poems). Sherlock watched as Merlin flew about with a smile, all the little children craning their necks and telling their mothers about him, as if a bird so low flying was the single most exciting thing that had ever happened to them in their young, monotonous lives. Sherlock finally made it back to his tent and with a start realized that he wasn't alone, for the tent flap was open and he saw the very dim outline of a figure through the shadows, as if someone was sitting there, awaiting his presence. Now the first thought of course would be John, for he was the only one arranged to be meeting here, however Sherlock's sudden remembrance of Inspector Trevor's gloating about being able to recognize the tent sprung once more into his head. That horrible man's presence was certainly not needed, especially after Sherlock had so publicly displayed a complex magic show, and even more so since he had spent the night in questionable circumstances. He really was becoming one against the law, wasn't he?
"Hello?" Sherlock asked nervously, looking towards the beggars who seemed to be paying no attention to him or whoever was in his tent, almost as if they hadn't a care in the world of property rights. Sherlock nervously pushed open the tent flap and stepped inside, taking a deep sigh of relief when he saw that it was indeed John who sat in the tent, leaning against the side and looking as if he had been waiting all day. He looked tired, with bags under his eyes and his hair barely done up, and yet he was smiling. Sherlock couldn't help but smile as well, partially in relief but mostly in joy for seeing the love of his life once more.
"It's you, I thought it was but I was nervous." Sherlock admitted in a mumble, shrugging his shoulders shamefully.
"I have no idea what you just said." John admitted with a laugh. Sherlock noticed that there was a little basket beside him, covered with a blanket and smelling like food...
"Have you brought lunch?" Sherlock asked excitedly, however he had to remind himself that this wasn't charity, he had to remind himself that he probably ought to pay John at least something for the privilege of eating his food.
"Well yes actually, more like brunch really. I thought that it was necessary to serve breakfast to someone you wake up with, or at least that's what Greg said that one time, and so I brought breakfast." John said proudly, gesturing to the basket that was still covered.
"You went to Greg for relationship tips?" Sherlock clarified with a laugh, making sure that Merlin was inside before snapping his fingers at the flap of the tent, making all of the strings tie themselves shut so as to give the two of them privacy. John was watching him with a very mystified expression, however Sherlock had to pretend like whatever he did had no substantial meaning at all, he had to pretend to ignore it. Any drawn attention to magic really wasn't a good idea; however magic in the first place was probably worse. Sherlock was just so good at making mistakes such as those.
"You say it's tricks, but I'm still not entirely convinced." John muttered as Sherlock took his seat across from him in the dust. He didn't make eye contact, forcing a little smile on his face as if he still had no idea what John was talking about.
"It is, of course. No one would be stupid enough to preform magic on the streets in a land where magic was outlawed." Sherlock defended in a small little voice, sounding very obviously guilty.
"Ya, and no one would be stupid enough to send a love letter to a man when homosexuality was illegal. I do think, in this situation, you are the outlier." John insisted.
"Ha, joke's on you, I don't even know what that means." Sherlock said proudly.
"It means the odd one out!" John said firmly. Sherlock just crossed his arms in something of a childish pout, keeping his eyes away from John's so as to not admit his guilt in a glare.
"You don't hang for homosexuality." Sherlock muttered nervously.
"Yes you do. They just don't publicize it all that much, my dad's a judge Sherlock, you should remember that." John pointed out. Sherlock frowned at him, almost as if trying to point out that John's father's profession was yet another daunting factor in his admitting such a secret. Mycroft had warned him of John's possible collusion with the judge, and Sherlock was going to keep that in mind even after they had demonstrated such strong trust in each other. Love was different, love was a mutual crime.
"Well then we are both criminals." Sherlock agreed.
"And you more so." John insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head once more.
"John they're just tricks." He assured.
"I won't pry, I won't pry. But maybe I should tell you that me and my father don't get along, not one bit. I trust you enough to not let my secrets go and I should expect the same trust from you." John pointed out, pulling the picnic basket towards him and finally flipping up the towel. Sherlock was quiet; choosing not to respond simply because he didn't know what he would say if he did. John had seemingly forgotten all about their secrets in the presence of the breakfast basket, pulling out all sorts of delicacies, some Sherlock couldn't even name. It was astounding that there was so much to eat in the world, all sorts of eggs in little pies (John called them quiche), odd sort of pastries filled with cream, fruits of all colors and sizes, pancakes and French toast all prepared and wrapped in foil, it was amazing. And to think, Sherlock and Mycroft only ate leftover bread for breakfast!
"How did you get all this food out?" Sherlock asked in amazement as John finally produced two plates and silverware sets from the bottom of the basket, handing one to Sherlock while keeping the other for himself.
"I just had Molly do it, she's trustworthy enough." John said with a shrug.
"Does she know you had someone over?" Sherlock wondered as he held his plate in his hands, becoming very overwhelmed with the choices that sat before him. In the end he chose one of the quiches, just to try them, and a couple of strips of bacon. John took some French toast and lathered some rich looking syrup overtop, making Sherlock wish he had picked that instead.
"Oh yes, she's quite clever that way, and yet I'm sure in a million years she'll never guess who." John said with a proud laugh, as if his own art of deception astounded him.
"No, she'll never guess." Sherlock agreed with a sad sort of smile, going to his amazing breakfast and trying to ignore the fact that he would never have the luxury of bragging about John to anyone. That was part of love he had always imagined, just the publicity of it all, the recognition. Half of the fun of falling in love was reminding everyone else how happy you had become, especially people who certainly would have never expected you to end up so successful. Sherlock had always had that fantasy of strutting around with a girl on his arm in front of Inspector Trevor, just to see the look on that horrible man's face. Well of course there were many things wrong with that picture, first and most importantly the fact that Sherlock would never have a girl on his arm, purely because he had no interest to, and secondly he could never strut his new date around near the police, that is unless he had the intention of getting hanged. Maybe half the fun of this forbidden relationship would be the forbidden part, the romance of going undetected, the thrill of secrecy! Because it was rather exhilarating, kissing someone you weren't allowed to.

"You seem very tired today." John decided finally, cutting his French toast with some difficulty and frowning at the syrup that clung to his fork as he lifted it to his mouth.
"I am tired; it was something of a rough night." Sherlock admitted with a chuckle.
"Ah yes, well I suppose that's partially my fault." John teased, watching Sherlock with that twinkle he always wore in his eyes, that annoying twinkle, that beautiful twinkle...
"Only half your fault." Sherlock agreed, continuing on with his fancy food with a small smile.
"You know falling in love is so much better than what everyone says it is. In my books and those annoying songs, all those old wives' tales and what not, they never seem to grasp the whole concept." John admitted finally.
"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock wondered. John just shrugged, sitting back momentarily and looking at Sherlock with a very odd gaze, looking almost as if he was trying to contain a smile.
"Well it's always about the pain of love, most love songs are warning people not to fall in love, like it's some great tragedy. I don't see anything tragic at all; I see a utopia, if anything." John admitted.
"Well usually the tragedy comes after the utopia." Sherlock pointed out.
"That's only if there's a breakup, and to be honest I have absolutely no intention of doing that." John admitted with a smile. Sherlock just laughed, shrugging his shoulders and looking down almost guiltily at his breakfast.
"Oh who knows now, the morning after? We haven't been together for more than twenty four hours; surely you're in no position to judge the longevity of our love." Sherlock defended.
"Yes I suppose." John murmured. "But right now I assure you, if I could have the option of staying with one person for the rest of my life, well of course I'd choose you."
"For now." Sherlock insisted. John just frowned at him, as if he wasn't quite sure if he was hearing this right.
"Are you saying Sherlock that you doubt my love for you?" John wondered in a snap.
"I'm just saying that there's a reason for those old wives' tales, hearts fall out of love, I'm not doubting you in this moment of course not, and maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm wrong." Sherlock assured, holding up his hands innocently all while John scowled.
"Ya, you bet you're wrong. You know what Sherlock, I'll make a deal with you. I'll kiss you once every day, for the rest of my life..."
"I'm just going to stop you right there." Sherlock said with a little laugh, holding up his hand with a smile.
"No, I'm not kidding, every day of my life. I'll kiss you. And then, when I'm on my death bed and you're standing there, weeping and carrying on, well I'll get the biggest I told you so. All the nurses can be witness to your being wrong." John said proudly, smiling as they both imagined their life together, forever. It was a beautiful concept of course, them growing old together, gray together, sitting on matching rocking chairs in John's summer cottage. But was it possible? Sherlock was certainly okay with it, for he had no reluctance to pledge himself to John for the rest of his life; however who knows what might unfold in the future? In love or not, life happens, and for two men on the opposite spectrums of social status it was only going to get more difficult down the road.
"That's romantic John, very romantic." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"I kissed you today already, so you'll just have to wait for me tomorrow." John said flatly. Sherlock nodded with a flattered little smile, all while John was looking very smug, proud of himself for some reason.
"And if I die before you, what then?" Sherlock wondered with a raise of his eyebrow.
"Then I'll kiss your gravestone until I follow." John said flatly. Sherlock smiled once again, for that was truly one of the romantic promises he had ever received.
"I um, actually John I don't recall you kissing me today." Sherlock said thoughtfully, despite the obvious kisses they had shared before Sherlock had left. John looked dumbfounded for a moment; however he seemed to catch on eventually.
"You know what, you're right. I don't think I did." John agreed. Sherlock smiled rather shyly, however his quiche was gone and he had nothing else to do but trick John into kissing him once more. What was the harm? In a moment they were together, gently this time, softly. John reclined Sherlock ever so gently onto the dirt while Merlin chirped at the doorway, as if assuring them that he would be keeping guard. Their breakfast lay forgotten next to them as the two fulfilled their daily quota, and then some. John's promise was becoming all the more realistic as Sherlock kissed him now, realizing that he would die a happy man if he was able to be with John for all of his life. Maybe their love could last, like so many other relationships never did in the past. Maybe theirs was eternal; everlasting just through sheer stubbornness, or maybe it was meant to be. Maybe Sherlock had accidentally stumbled upon his soulmate, his first love and his last, all in one.