AN: Hello there! This story kinda hit me one day and I decided to write it as my fulfilment of a task I was set as a trial admin on a page. So, here you go; Enjoy :)

Anderson was in a bad mood. As he was all the time, but this time he was really ticked off. That…that… freak had gone too far. Saying those things about Sally having an affair, it was unheard of and untrue. He pulled his coat around him tighter as he scowled, the path underneath him crunching as he stomped along. He had no idea how he'd ended up in the park, but it was a soothing location in a way. A couple on a bench behind a tree were kissing and it just pissed him off even more. No one else could have romance if he couldn't. His eyes narrowed at the couple before he carried on along the path. Stupid love and stupid feelings and stupid- Wait a second. Anderson stopped dead and backtracked a few steps. Oh. My. God. Was that John Watson on the bench making out with… THE FREAK?! Anderson slapped a hand over his mouth and broke into a run. He ran all the way back to campus and didn't stop until he reached the dormitory block. He leant against the wall, panting, and a huge grin broke out on his face. John's roommates were so going to hear about this.

o0o

Sherlock had gone to the library after leaving the park to try and reorganise his thoughts. All possible outcomes for the last few hours were dissolved except for the one that had happened; the best outcome, in Sherlock's opinion. John had returned his feelings and then kissed him. But Sherlock didn't think the word 'kiss' quite cut it. It was more like a full on, emotion-filled and utterly disarming snog. Not that Sherlock had any objection to that, oh no. He and John had gone their separate ways after talking for a bit more once they'd kissed. Sherlock didn't feel like going back to his empty dorm and sitting by himself. The warmth and company John had given him would make the one-person room feel so… depressing. He sat in the library and just thought. All his thoughts were about John. The taste of his mouth, the feel of his body against Sherlock's, the tiny gasping sound he made as they broke apart after their 10 minute make-out session. Sherlock had the urge to see John again, and it wasn't one that would go away. He didn't want to seem needy, but they did need to talk. What do they do now? Are they dating? Did John want to kiss him again? Sherlock couldn't leave these questions unanswered, so he got up and left the library, heading to John's dorm room.

He walked through the entryway of the dormitory building and nodded to Lestrade and Mike as they passed him. They were both smiling uncontrollably about something or other. Sherlock didn't bother waiting for the elevator and took the stairs up to the third floor two at a time, his folder clutched to his chest and his messenger bag bumping steadily against his thigh. He all but cannonballed through the stairwell door into the hallway and nearly hit the wall opposite. His legs automatically took him in the direction of John's room, having memorised the way ages ago. The door was closed when he reached it, and he stopped abruptly. Sherlock took a moment to catch his breath. Then he composed himself, raised a fist and knocked on the door.

"John…?"

There was a scuffling from inside and a few loud whispers. Then the door was wrenched open and Sherlock grinned widely, looking down as his eyes met… Anderson. The smile left his face and he glared at the boy.

"I'm here to see John." Sherlock said brusquely.

Anderson just smiled and cocked his head slightly.

"Well isn't that a shame," he said, teasingly, "See, John doesn't really want to see you right now. In fact, I don't think he wants to see you ever again."

Sherlock blinked.

"What?"

"Yes see, he's told me all about how you pounced on him like the freak you are and kissed him. It's scarred him for life, it has."

John hadn't been affected in a bad way, Sherlock was sure. He hadn't shown any sort of negative emotions while they were talking after the kiss, but John could have been faking. Maybe Sherlock had been so blinded by sentiment he hadn't noticed John's discomfort at anything. But Sherlock hadn't pounced on John! John had initiated the kiss. It made no sense; Sherlock was so confused. His mind had ground to a halt and was in the process of rebooting. He was vaguely aware of the crowd forming around him, sneering and muttering at the spectacle of a confused freak.

Henry and Hugo, two of John's roommates, joined Anderson at the door.

"Why don't you just push off and leave John alone, you creep. He hates you."

"Can I just talk to him?" Sherlock tried to reason.

"Anderson already said," Hugo explained, "John never wants to see you again."

A huge crash sounded from inside the room and a muffled cry.

"He just wants you gone." Henry shrugged, smirking at Sherlock's depressed body language.

"Oh, look at the poor freak, can't handle rejection." Anderson sniggered.

Bill, the rugby captain and another of John's roommates, burst out of the door and pushed past Sherlock, knocking him against the wall and making him drop his folder. Sherlock scowled after the red-head, who made no attempt to apologise and just pushed through the crowd. Someone was in a hurry. Sherlock pushed off the wall and reached down for his folder, but it was kicked away from his reach. He sighed and straightened up. He really didn't need this; he just wanted to be alone… or with John. But the latter wasn't going to happen right now.

Sherlock had barely stood up properly before the first swing came his way. Honestly, he wasn't really that surprised, it was just quicker than he expected. He stumbled back and groped at the wall for support. Hugo reached for the bag around his shoulder and pulled it harshly, causing Sherlock to stumble forwards and fall flat on his face. The crowd laughed and someone kicked him. Hard. In the stomach. He held in a cry and just growled. More kicks and punches were thrown at his prone figure on the ground. He instinctively curled into the foetal position and blocked out each spike of pain. The only thing whizzing round his mind at this moment was why why why why why why… Why had John kissed him? Why does John hate him now? Why won't John see him? Why did he let this happen to himself? Why did he let his emotions get to him? Eventually the beating stopped and the crowd dispersed. Sherlock uncurled and looked around. The corridor was basically empty. John's door was closed and something was making a lot of banging sounds behind it. Sherlock wiped away a drop of moisture from under his eye and reprimanded himself. Crying wasn't going to help. He forced the betraying wetness to return to the lacrimal canal, grabbed his folder, leapt off the floor and tore through of the corridor, thundered down the steps and out of the building.

The tears just kept coming.

o0o

John returned from the park to his dorm room half an hour later. He was on a complete emotional high. He'd just kissed Sherlock Holmes. And been kissed back! As he reached the door, he didn't know he was being waited for. John opened the door and was instantly pounced on by Bill, the red-headed rugby player who wanted to join the army too. John hit the floor and rolled until he was away from Bill and then stood up, brushing himself off.

"What the hell was that for?"

Bill smirked at him and replied nonchalantly,

"You were seen kissing a guy, which means you'll probably apply to switch dorms soon if it's serious. And we can't risk losing John Watson, can we boys?"

The rest of John's roommates nodded and muttered in agreement. They were all there; Greg Lestrade, Mike Stamford, Henry Walsh and Hugo Smith. Of course, the ringleader as well, Bill Hartland. John sighed but couldn't help himself from smiling. Sherlock had confessed his feelings towards John and after wanting to kiss him so badly for months; John hadn't been able to restrain himself. He had no idea he'd been spotted.

"Alright, alright, who told you?"

Mike grinned and pointed across the room to where a weedy kid stood by the window, looking extremely smug.

"Anderson was walking through the park and saw you. He ran all the way here and told us."

"And don't even start about the fact you were kissing the freak!" Hugo snarled. "I mean, we thought you were better than that John."

"Hey!" John protested, "He's not a freak!"

"Keep telling yourself that, but he is mental." Henry put in.

John scowled at Anderson before turning back to his friends.

"So what are you gonna do about me leaving?" He asked, a playful look in his eye.

Lestrade stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"As Bill said, we can't risk losing John Watson; the life and soul of this dorm."

Then, without warning, everyone surged forward and grabbed John. He yelped in surprise as his feet left the floor and he tried to fight back. But even John Hamish Watson has difficulty fighting a surprise attack from five strong boys. He was thrown onto a chair and before he could stand again, his feet, hands and torso were strapped to the chair with tape. Anderson doubled over with laughter in the corner as John tried to break his bonds.

"We had to resort to desperate measures to make sure you don't leave." Hugo said jokingly with a huge smile on his face, "any last words?"

Henry stepped forwards with a sock and some more tape, quirking his eyebrows in silent laughter. John took the joke and grinned slightly.

"You bastards." And then the sock was shoved in his mouth and covered with tape. He growled deep in his throat and everyone backed off. Bill collapsed on his bed with laughter and Henry and Mike leant on each other giggling like crazy. Hugo sat down on the floor in front of John and chuckled so his shoulders heaved. Anderson stayed where he was and just shook his head, smiling to himself. Lestrade, being the oldest, stood to the side of the room with his arms crossed and tried to look at least mildly disapproving but even he couldn't suppress a smirk.

"We're gonna leave you like this for a few hours, maybe more depending on how we feel," Lestrade explained, "just to make sure you get the message that you're not leaving us."

John rolled his eyes but made no more attempts to break free. Lestrade and Mike said something about coffee and left the room, leaving Henry, Hugo, Bill and Anderson in the room with John. About 30 seconds passed when a tender knock at the door sounded, followed by a small, unsure voice.

"John…?"

The boys looked at each other incredulously.

"Is that the freak?"

"What's he doing here?"

Anderson shushed the murmurs and pointed towards the door. "Let's put him in his place."

John's eyes widened in horror. What did Anderson mean by that? Three boys made a mad rush for the door and flung it open. John could just hear Sherlock's silky baritone, and it sounded disapproving. John tried to get Bill's attention, but the red-head was completely absorbed by his phone. John could just about hear what Anderson was saying.

"… a shame, ... doesn't really want to see you… I don't think … see you ever again."

A pause.

"What?"

John started thrashing then. What was Anderson saying to Sherlock? Bill still hadn't taken note of the situation so no help was coming from him. Hugo and Henry were sniggering to each other behind the door, out of view from Sherlock. John started rocking the chair back and forth, trying to break free.

Henry peeked round the door and added to the conversation.

"Why don't …push off and …you creep… hates you."

Sherlock's reply sounded almost pleading and John was not at all comfortable with that. Suddenly, gravity came into play and all the rocking John had been doing worked. He fell to the side, taking the chair with him and let out a muffled cry and his neck cracked slightly with the impact. Bill looked up from his phone at the noise, but just laughed at the position John was in.

John could still hear the conversation going on outside but it was hard to hear it properly. All of a sudden, Bill leapt off the bed with a muttered "Shit!" and wide eyes. He ran from the room and John heard a thudding against the wall outside in the corridor. Someone had been pushed out of the way and into a wall by Bill's fast moving, by the sounds of it. He hoped it wasn't Sherlock. John continued pulling against his bonds, and more thumps and laughter came from the corridor. What in the world was happening out there? A few minutes later the noise stopped, and Henry and Hugo stepped back into the room. A scuffling was heard in the corridor and seconds later, a door hit the wall along the hallway as it was flung open and the sound of footsteps retreating down steps sounded through the building.

Henry smirked and ripped the tape off John's mouth. John spat out the sock and a flurry of curses, shouts and growls flooded out. The general gist of what he was saying was "WHAT DID YOU DO?" Hugo and Henry just sniggered and left the room. John started to see red. They'd upset Sherlock. They'd made Sherlock think he didn't care. They'd obviously beaten up Sherlock. Suddenly the tape around his wrists came free. It seemed he was stronger than usual when burning with anger. He tore at the tape around his chest and ankles, and then scrambled across the floor to the door, using the handle to pull himself upright. He didn't need to guess at where Sherlock had gone and headed down the stairs after him as fast as his legs could carry him.

Which was actually quite fast.

o0o

Sherlock couldn't stop walking. His vision was blurred and his head was pounding but his body was just walking, taking him as far away as possible. But nowhere would be far enough. He was still trying to get his emotions under control when a shout came from behind him.

"SHERLOCK!"

It sounded like John. He wished it was John. But it couldn't be John because John hated him and never wanted to see him again.

"SHERLOCK! PLEASE!"

A hand grabbed at his arm and whirled him around. And there was John. Right in front of him and close to crying.

"Sherlock… Whatever they said…"

"It's ok John, you don't have to explain. I understand if I upset you in any way."

John's face crumpled at that and tears started to roll down his cheeks. He threw his arms around Sherlock and buried his face in his chest.

"John, I thought you-"

"No, you stupid git," he interrupted, "I never said any of that. I was taped to a chair with a sock in my mouth and I couldn't make them stop."

"So… you don't hate me?"

John pulled away from Sherlock slightly and looked him in the eye.

"I could never hate you. You can be a right sod sometimes but I could never hate you."

He squinted at Sherlock's face.

"Did they actually… hit you? That hard?"

Sherlock feigned confusion.

"What do you mean?"

John reached out a hand to Sherlock's cheek and touched a rapidly forming bruise there. The boy winced visibly.

"Oh my god…" John breathed, "I'll kill them."

"No no no, that won't be necessary. I'm used to it."

John pulled Sherlock closer again and rested his head on the taller boys shoulder. Sherlock tentatively put his arms around John, but when he heard John sigh in relief, he tightened his grasp and put his face in the short, sandy hair below him.

"I'm sorry for anything they said." Came a muffled voice.

Sherlock smiled softly and squeezed John.

"You don't have to apologise for them, I understand you were incapacitated and being held against your will. Speaking of which…"

Sherlock gently pulled John away from him and took both wrists into his hands. They were rubbed red and had a few cuts on them.

"You struggled quite a lot. Your rage made you stronger than expected and you broke free."

"It doesn't hurt that much…"

Sherlock smiled at John and leant down to him.

"So strong," he whispered. "My John."

He kissed John's cheek tenderly and ran his fingers through the short blonde spikes.

"Hey," John mused, resting his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, "You missed."

And he pulled Sherlock down, capturing his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. Their arms wound around each other and John was left standing on tip-toes.

Anderson couldn't believe his eyes.

o0o

The End