For Good Ch. 11

The next six weeks were a roller-coaster for the whole cast and crew of Wicked. They had successes and failures together, and even one experience when Sean Anderson said M****** and they had technical difficulties before that night's run. As punishment, they invited Sean to a party that didn't exist at a sketchy location across New York. It was a harmless prank, but he never said it again.


John was truly having the time of his life; a great boyfriend, a nice group of friends, and a fabulous job. He felt invincible. He felt like a king.

Sherlock sure was treating him like one, too. It was as if John were the genius actor, and Sherlock were a stage hand, the way that the taller man showered him with gifts and affection and praise. Not that John was completely innocent of verbal spoiling, either. John inflated the actor's ego to an almost dangerous level, but always managed to humble him at the end of the day.

"I can't hardly keep up with you guys." Mary once remarked. "One minute you're praising him for being 'brilliant' and 'amazing', and the next, you're giving him that look that says 'don't be a dick'."

John had laughed and said, "That's because he is both brilliant and a dick, but he shouldn't be allowed to be both."

Yes, things were going great, and John felt nothing could shatter the beautiful life he had started to build in New York. But that was when things started to crumble a little.

*******

It had been a Saturday night performance, a sold-out, packed house, standing-room only performance. And those were the ones where Sherlock thrived. He was in his prime that night, throwing himself across the stage in the perfect 'reckless abandon' that captures the essence of Fiyero in weird, unexplainable ways. All his notes were spot on, and his eyes shone brighter than the spotlights. The show ran smoothly from start to finish, and the cast had received a standing ovation when everything was said and done.

Backstage, John found Sherlock already changed and waiting for him. "Did you see that?" He said, swooping down to kiss John hard on the lips.

"Yeah, yeah I did. You were fantastic." The sound technician said breathlessly.

"The energy that radiated out from the audience was CRAZY!" John laughed and watched as his boyfriend hopped around like a crazy-person, unsure of what to do with all his pent-up excitement. "I mean, holy cow! We HAVE to celebrate!"

"Applebee's?" John suggested.

"Oh, most definitely." Sherlock loved the triple chocolate melt downs at Applebee's; they were the only dessert he would dare eat.

"Sherlock Holmes?" The duo turned in the direction of the strange voice, and saw a short, chubby man striding towards them. "Mike Stamford." He stuck out a hand, that Sherlock took warily, before speaking again, "I have a proposition for you, if you'll hear me out?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Sherlock leaned over and kissed John on the cheek and said, "Want to get us a table at the restaurant, and I'll meet you there?"

"Yeah, but be quick. I'm hungry." John smiled and waved at the new stranger. "It was nice to meet you."

------

John sat at the table at Applebee's for 20 minutes before his date came bursting into the restaurant. "John you will never BELIEVE what I have just been offered!" Sherlock climbed into the booth, looming over the shorter man, and grabbed both sides of his face. "I'm so excited and happy, I can't contain myself. I love you so much." He then kissed the air out of John's lungs, and probably would've continued if John hadn't pulled back and forced him to sit down.

"We're in public, Sherlock. But, hold that thought for later." They both smiled and gave their orders to the waitress who had just shown up to the table (a hamburger for John, and a triple chocolate meltdown for Sherlock). "Now, tell me what you're so damn excited about, will you?"

"Mr. Stamford is the manager of a Broadway touring group and he wants to contract me for the INTERNATIONAL tour of Wicked. Think about it! I'll be touring the world, singing and dancing! It's a dream come true!"

John tried his hardest not to let his smile waver, though he felt like his insides were turning to mush. "How long is the tour?"

"About a year. But, if they like me, they may contract me for other tours or other musicals."

A year without Sherlock. John felt sick. "I'm so happy for you!" He said. And he was. He just wasn't happy for himself. "But can I be honest with you?"

"You're happy for me, but not for 'us'." Sherlock said casually. "I'm not happy about it, either. I did ask Mr. Stamford if you could be hired as a sound technician on the tour, but all crews are filled up." Sherlock smiled at him then. "But, I don't leave for another 3 months, when my contract with Gershwin ends, and I fully intend to stay with you through that time and beyond. We can stay connected online and through letters." Sherlock reached for John's hand, giving it a small kiss. "It's only a year. And doesn't distance make the heart grow fonder?"

John laughed, feeling a little better about the situation, but only a little. They switched topics then, talking instead about the performance that night and about what they wanted to do with their upcoming days off.

"I want to see the new Hobbit movie that just came out." John mentioned. "We could maybe go on Tuesday?"

"I don't want to see that. I saw the other 2 in the series and I thought they were kind of rubbish."

John threw a french fry at the actor. "You're rubbish. I like them! I grew up adoring that book and it's the final movie."

"Maybe we could go see the Imitation Game instead? That one looks good. It's about the British cryptanalysts in World War II."

"You would want to go see a thinking movie.What about Ernest and Celestine?" John suggested. "It looks like a cute little animated movie. They just released it in English on DVD here in the US, so we could rent it and watch it at home? PJs and popcorn?"

"Was the movie described as 'heartwarming'?"

"Yes."

"Then, no."

"You're awful at helping plan dates."

"We could just lay in bed all day everyday like I want to." Sherlock shrugged, chasing the last bit of chocolate cake around his plate with a spoon.

"Yeah, no. Not happening." John rolled his eyes and stole the last bite of cake with his fingers. "Ready to go home?"

"Oh yeah. I've been 'holding that thought' this whole time, and it's time we discuss it further."

"Bad metaphor for 'I'm horny'." John said, putting some cash on the table and standing up.

"I don't care, it worked, and you understood." Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him out toward the street, waving at a cab as soon as they were out the door.