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Fic: The Baker Street Nativity (15/23)
Title: The Baker Street Nativity (On AO3)
Author:
Beta readers:
ruth0007 and Rating: NC-17
Word count: This chapter: 3,184 words
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Summary: Fusion with Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong?
See chapter 1 for more extended notes, disclaimers, and acknowledgments.
Chapter 15: The Parents' Meeting
John didn't try to kiss Sherlock at school next morning, but Sherlock still felt like he had a sign over his head that read 'I snogged John Watson last night, and I liked it'. He was probably unnecessarily stern and short in an attempt to compensate. Not that anyone noticed a difference.
John's behaviour wasn't measurably different, either, although the warmth in his smile and the frequency with which he licked his lips - Sherlock was honestly a bit startled to realise now how early in their acquaintance John must have had salacious thoughts about him - told Sherlock that John's memory and assessment of the previous night's activities were fully aligned with his own.
They had lunch in, holing up in 221A with Molly, tea and sandwiches to sketch out a rough staging in the larger area they would now have at their disposal. Sherlock was still working on the assumption that at some point, this entire thing was going to implode in a spectacular manner, but in the meantime there wasn't much to do but carry on as if it weren't. Molly had also uploaded the short video they'd recorded the day before, and they all watched it on her laptop. Both John and Molly pronounced it sweet, and Sherlock had to admit there was a certain kitten-in-rain-boots quality to it, which was to say it was pointless, awkward and unnatural but an inexplicably large percentage of the general population would find it endearing.
The question remained, of course, what they were going to do with the video now. Molly and John were emphatic about sending it to Mycroft at Whitehall, and although Sherlock assured them once again of the futility of the effort, he really couldn't stop them from popping the DVD into a bubble-cushioned cardboard sleeve and writing the studio address on it.
Sherlock and John agreed to meet after school to work on the choreography in the assembly hall, while Molly said she needed to make a tour of the second-hand shops for things they could use as costumes. The less original sewing the parents needed to do, the better.
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"Right so, Star of Bethlehem, staircase to the stars, they're all sitting so we'll just have them wave their hands about a bit." John showed Sherlock the notation he'd made on his copy of the script.
"Wave their hands? The stars have hands?"
"Yeah." John laid the script down on the edge of the stage. "Oo-ooh, oo-ooh, sparkle and shine," he sang while making flashing gestures and wiggling his fingers. "Planets gather round. Etcetera."
Sherlock found it rather inconvenient that the sight made him want to smile and kiss John, rather than make fun of him. He scowled instead. "Why are we starting with that one?" He picked up the dog-eared sheaf of papers and flipped through it. "There are two other songs first."
"Just getting the easy ones out of the way. So there's that one, and then for Mary and Joseph's song I think we should keep it simple as well."
"You're going to have to bite the bullet and choose someone for those parts, you know."
John gave him a half amused, half accusing look. "That's right, make me the baddie."
"Oh for God's sake, they can't all be Mary and Joseph. Just take Jade and Shareef," Sherlock snapped. "Tell them it was my decision."
John stared at Sherlock, momentarily taken aback. "That's it."
Sherlock was surprised that John had agreed so readily, but he wasn't about to argue the point. "Good. And what should they do during the song, then? Wiggle their toes?"
John frowned. "What? No- No, I didn't mean Jade and Shareef, I meant they can all be Mary and Joseph."
"You want all the children to play Mary and Joseph?" It wasn't that Sherlock hadn't heard him perfectly well; he just wanted to point out the impossibility of what John seemed to be saying.
John, on the other hand, didn't find it problematic at all. "Yes!" he said enthusiastically. "All the girls will be Mary and all the boys will be Joseph. No, no, it'll be perfect," John said in response to Sherlock's ever more sceptical expression. "See, we'll pair them all up, all round the stage-" He gestured vaguely around.
"That's pointless; most of them won't even be visible behind the others."
"Then we'll set them up on boxes or platforms. We can use the same ones later to build the staircase for the stars. Yes!" John's face lit up. "Look, like this. Come here." John got up onto the stage and held his hand down to Sherlock.
It was easier to get up without John's help, so he did, but once beside him, John grabbed him by both hands and positioned them so they were facing each other with their profiles visible to what would be the audience.
"They'll all stand like this, staggered, in pairs," John explained. "We can start with everything dark and the spotlight on one pair while they sing one line, then switch to another pair for the next line, and so on, until the first chorus when the lights go up and everyone's singing."
"All right, yes, I can see it," Sherlock agreed. It certainly solved the quandary of favouritism that seemed to occupy John, and like the four wise men it was unorthodox enough to satisfy Sherlock's need to rattle at cages. Maybe Moran would even use the word 'blasphemous' in his review this time.
"And at the end, they all kiss." John grinned, pleased with himself.
"You want to have year threes kiss," Sherlock stated. Again, it wasn't a matter of understanding the principle, but of hoping John would grasp the absurdity of the proposal when he heard it put to him in neutral terms.
"It'll be cute. Secretly they want to," John assured him. Sherlock might have argued the point, but admittedly he had never been very good at judging emotional motivation in others. He had a hard enough time of it with his own.
However, the irony of John using the two of them to stand in now for the couple being portrayed in the play wasn't lost on Sherlock. He hardly thought they would be able to get away with giving Jesus same-sex parents. "How heteronormative of you," he mocked.
"All right, maybe some of them don't want to," John acceded. "Anyone who really feels uncomfortable doesn't have to."
With the talk of kissing, Sherlock was suddenly struck by the fact that he and John were standing in a very similar position to how they'd been the previous night. And the risk that a group of hooligans would happen to pass through the assembly hall of the Baker Street School in the next few minutes was vanishingly small.
"And how, exactly, would such a kiss play out?" Sherlock asked, not even trying to sound casual.
John didn't catch on at first, answering, "Just a peck on the cheek of course, you don't imagine I'd-" He broke off as Sherlock tugged him in closer by their joined hands. The intent dawned. "Sherlock..." he said warningly, but his mouth quirked up and he adjusted his hands to thread their fingers together.
"Like this?" Sherlock settled his body against John's and nuzzled against his cheek.
"Maybe not quite this intimate," John said, barely touching his lips to Sherlock's jaw. Sherlock was taken off guard at how immediate the response of his limbic system was. He could practically feel his pituitary gland firing up.
"Maybe like this, then." Sherlock found John's lips and kissed him lightly but with clear purpose.
"That might generate some sternly worded letters from parents," John said before returning the sentiment in kind.
"And this?" Sherlock found John's lips already parted when he descended on them again. It was almost frightening how easy it was. As if he'd always done this. John was pushing him a little now, testing whether he could change the pace. Sherlock let him, curious himself to see what it felt like to cede control, and in doing so he realised that he trusted John. He trusted him not to take more than Sherlock was able to give, and he trusted that whatever John asked of him, at least in this, it would feel good. Not just physically, but it made him feel good to be pleasing John. It was-
"Fuck's sake, looks like it was Adam and Steve after all."
Sherlock jumped back at the sound of Lestrade's voice, releasing John's hands. John swore under his breath and wiped his mouth.
"Wrong story," Sherlock bit out to vent his frustration.
"Sorry, Greg. That was inappropriate," John mumbled.
Lestrade walked across to the stage, letting the door fall shut behind him. "I'm actually pretty chuffed to see the two of you getting on so well and I take full credit for setting you in each other's paths, but-"
"Yes, we know, can't be corrupting the children," Sherlock said bitterly. He jumped down from the stage to stand level with Lestrade.
"That's not fair," Lestrade replied evenly. "It'd be the same with anyone else. Keep it professional."
Sherlock made a face. "We won't mention what Anderson and Donovan have been getting up to in her classroom then."
"What, really?" Lestrade looked both disgusted and curious.
John had come down from the stage as well and came to stand at Sherlock's side.
"Well, maybe not recently," Sherlock allowed. "Their faces told an interesting story when you had to have her desk replaced last month, though."
Lestrade's mouth hung loosely open. "Fuck me."
Sherlock smirked. "I'm not sure if they got quite that far before the leg gave way."
John snickered, only to splutter an insincere "Sorry, sorry," at Lestrade's dirty look.
"Was there a reason you came in here, other than to play morality police?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes!" Lestrade snapped back from wherever his mind had wandered. "Just wanted to remind you about the parents' meeting tonight."
"What parents' meeting?" Sherlock frowned.
Lestrade made that gormless open-mouthed face again. "The one where you talk to all the parents about the play and the filming and answer their questions," he said carefully.
"I never agreed to that!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"I sent you a text over a week ago! You never responded so I assumed it was all right."
Sherlock vaguely recalled deleting a text from Lestrade, but as usual hadn't really taken note of the content. Still: "It's not my fault you drew the wrong conclusion from negative evidence," Sherlock said.
"Well, it's too late now, it's all arranged. You have to tell the parents something," Lestrade insisted.
"There's nothing to tell-"
"What Sherlock means is," John jumped in with a warning look at Sherlock, "there's really nothing special they need to do. Just have the children there on time the night of the play."
"Yeah, all right," Lestrade said, somewhat mollified, "but still, they have questions. I'm sick of sounding like a broken record, telling them I don't know anything. It's your turn."
"I refuse-" Sherlock began, but John interrupted again.
"We'll be there," he said.
A bubble of rebellion swelled in Sherlock. No matter how their relationship might have changed, that didn't give John the right to speak for him. "You don't get to dictate how I spend my time."
"I'm not-" John glanced quickly at Lestrade and then back to Sherlock. "Look, can we-" He gave up and sighed. "Greg, could we have a minute?"
Lestrade held up his hands in surrender. "Take all the time you want. I just need at least one of you here at seven o'clock."
"I'll be here," John promised.
"Grand. I'll leave you to it then." Lestrade paused and pointed from John to Sherlock. "And not at all in the way that sounds."
John couldn't entirely fight off a smile. "We'll do our best."
"See that you do," Lestrade said as he walked away.
"Did you know about this?" Sherlock demanded as soon as the door swung shut behind the head teacher.
"Of course, Greg texted me the details same as he did you."
"And you didn't think it pertinent to perhaps mention it to me?"
"I assumed you were an adult capable of reading your own texts. Silly of me, I see now."
"No, what was 'silly' was agreeing to stand up in front of a room full of people and make up facts about an event which is never going to happen."
"I didn't think you'd be quite that noble about it. You certainly haven't had any trouble lying to me, your boss, the mayor, and anyone else who'd listen."
"I never lied to you." It was important that that be made clear.
John turned that thought over in his head for a few seconds. "Not about the play," he finally agreed.
"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
John rubbed a hand over his face. "Nothing. Never mind. No, I suppose you've never outright lied to me, as far as I know."
"But you think I've misled you in some way? You think I'm hiding something from you?"
"I don't know. Yes. Probably. Look, I know I shouldn't be such a hypocrite, God knows there's plenty I haven't told you."
That got Sherlock's attention right away. "Such as?"
"You-" John smirked and wagged a finger. "Ah-ah, you're not getting it like that. You're going to have to earn it. And I suppose I am too." He closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, look, forget about it. Doesn't matter. What I actually wanted to say was, when I said we'd be there tonight, I wasn't trying to arrange your schedule for you. I meant that I knew you'd be there because you want this to work out for these kids."
Sherlock pivoted and took several steps away, clenching and unclenching his hands. It was maddening how much John wanted to assign Sherlock motivations that he patently did not have. "I hate to disabuse you once again -" he began, but John cut across him.
"All right, fine," John said, speaking louder to drown out Sherlock's words. "Forget about the movie part of it for a minute. I agree, it's looking like that's not going to work out. That doesn't mean we should scrap the whole project. The kids have worked hard, you and I have both worked hard, Molly's working hard, the parents are working hard, and there's nothing that says it can't all come together and have something really good come out of it. I know-" John said, increasing his volume again when Sherlock whirled back around, about to protest that there were dozens of things that would prevent anything good coming of it. "You're thinking of the money coming in, and how things are getting so big, but honestly, those sponsors are getting plenty of free publicity already, with or without studio interest." John started enumerating his points on his fingers. "They'll sell their concessions and souvenirs to the parents and anyone else who wanders by. There wouldn't be any big product placement opportunities in the play itself, so they never would have made it onto the screen anyway. As long as the play goes on, I don't think anyone's going to do much complaining. No one was ever promised anything either; there's nothing in writing. They wouldn't have a legal leg to stand on."
Sherlock had to admit John might have some fair points. But he was speaking with too much authority. He couldn't possibly be certain- "You consulted a solicitor," Sherlock concluded.
John, incredibly, looked like he was going to deny it at first, but finally admitted, "Harry."
"Of course." That... actually made quite a bit of sense. The stamina and ambition necessary to train as an orthopaedic surgeon coupled with the strong sense of morality and wanting to help people were characteristics that could lead to a career in law as well.
"She specialises in copyright law, but she's pretty confident we're in the clear," John explained. Ah, she was in it for the money - a trait not shared by the siblings. There was always something.
"And yet you're still going to stand up there tonight and let them think plans are moving apace," Sherlock said, trying for a tone that expressed the mild irony of the situation.
John drew himself up the same way he had when he'd handed Donovan's arse to her on a platter and said, "I'm going to stand up there and tell those parents their kids are involved in something pretty damn special that they and the rest of the city are going to remember for the rest of their lives, and no matter what happens, I'm proud of them. And I'd be even prouder if you were up there with me, because this is ninety percent you, Sherlock. Those kids are sweating and crying and even bleeding because they want your approval. They want you to be proud of them."
While it was true that a couple of the children had taken away scrapes from the incident with the Blackwood students, the rest of John's statement filled Sherlock with an inexplicable, quiet fury. "Don't be maudlin, John," he said tightly. "You're the one they like, not me."
John's face did something complicated then. Sherlock would have liked to replay it, except he was more than a bit certain that pity had been involved. "Jesus, Sherlock. Did you ever-" John apparently thought better of whatever he was going to say, though, opting instead for, "It's not a popularity contest. I'm the two-weekends-a-month parent, the one who takes them to the zoo and buys them lollies and lets them stay up too late. You're the one they rely on, the steady presence, the one who takes them for their jabs and makes them eat their broccoli and gives them structure even when it's not comfortable or convenient for you, because you know it's best for them, and they see that even when they whinge about it. They know who's just dazzle and who's substance."
But that wasn't correct, wasn't even right, because John was both substance and dazzle, and Sherlock was nothing, maybe a piece of wood, a ruler, a stick. Was that really how John saw Sherlock? How John saw himself? Sherlock found himself in the sudden grip of a fierce need to make John understand how very good he was, in the rawest, most basic way; how necessary and right and Sunday dinner and Guy Fawkes Night all in one. On the other hand, John wouldn't want to be with Sherlock any more once he got his confidence back and realised that Sherlock didn't measure up to him at all. Maybe it was better to just keep quiet. Which only cemented Sherlock's point, because he'd rather have John with low self-esteem all for himself than help John feel good about himself as he deserved to.
He deflected the uncomfortable, dark weight in his heart with an attempt at humour. "Did you just make us gay divorced parents of twenty-eight year threes?" he asked with an artfully chosen look somewhere between coquetry and indignation.
John released his breath in a great snort, and Sherlock felt something simultaneously loosen and tighten in his gut.
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no subject
”Sherlock let him, curious himself to see what it felt like to cede control, and in doing so he realised that he trusted John.”
And there we have a great idea coming to life!!
”And I'd be even prouder if you were up there with me, because this is ninety percent you, Sherlock. Those kids are sweating and crying and even bleeding because they want your approval. They want you to be proud of them."”
Great speech from John – certainly the one thing that will guarantee get Sherlock to turn up!
Oh but ”"Did you just make us gay divorced parents of twenty-eight year threes?"” had me chortling – brilliant line!!
no subject
And yeah, I kind of liked that last line too! :)
Thank you so much for your comments, I appreciate each and every one.
no subject
And thinking about that possible series three spoiler with John and a bonfire... :-O
Loved the descriptions of John and Sherlock's perceived roles as 'divorced parents' It made a good analogy, but inadvertently of course that means they've just compared themselves to a couple who have broken up. I guess at the moment there is still the end of John's contract hanging over any established relationship.
no subject
With the divorced parents thing, I think that John *was* trying to maintain a distance between them with the analogy. I think he wanted Sherlock to feel that John wasn't threatening him, either in taking over his role in the classroom or pushing him into something on the personal level that he didn't want or wasn't ready for.
Thank you for your thoughtful comments, always a pleasure!
no subject
I really enjoyed the kissing in this chapter! That put a huge smile on my face - it was so lovely to see Sherlock do that. But ooooh, poor Sherlock has so much to learn. I felt so sad for him when he came to the conclusion that "he'd rather have John with low self-esteem all for himself than help John feel good about himself as he deserved to." :((( I know he's still far too unsure about himself and you do a great job of showing us why Sherlock is and acts the way he does, but eeep, I wish he was already a step further towards being a "good man".
But I'll concentrate on the happier bits now:
Sherlock still felt like he had a sign over his head that read 'I snogged John Watson last night, and I liked it' *beams* I totally approve, Sherlock!!
Thank you! Such a great read!
no subject