I just really wanted to write a Teacher/Teacher story because I want there to be hot sex against a chalkboard. That sex will happen down the road.

Also, I love sexual/romantic tension in the workplace :D

By the way, if I get anything wrong with the UK school system or anything like that, let me know since I'm American. I mean, the story is mainly about the tension between Sherlock and John so it wouldn't matter too much, but I would still like to avoid inaccuracies if I can.

Enjoy!

Sherlock absentmindedly stirred sugar in his cup of coffee, not at all listening to who was speaking to him, humming every few moments to make it seem like he was paying attention. Who exactly was talking to him, again? It didn't matter. Sherlock wasn't looking at them. The person was probably rambling on about something trivial, like exam dates, or something about the wellbeing of students, or something else not worth his time at the moment. He had more important things on his mind.

He was staring across the teacher's lounge the new Anatomy teacher. Well, he was new to the school, but a few months had passed and the friendly man quickly fit in with the other teachers.

How he fit in with Sherlock, on the other hand, was a different story. Sherlock liked the man, he really did. He couldn't believe it at first and spent the entire month of September pondering why he liked the new teacher. Sherlock supposed his feelings had to do with the man's physical attractiveness, but he was able to resist his urges before.

The point is that for whatever reason, Sherlock liked John.

Or, Mr. Watson, as Sherlock had to refer to him. They were pretty friendly with each other since John arrived at the beginning of the school year, but not enough to really be on a first-name basis. Still, Sherlock called him "John" in his mind. He wasn't sure why; it just felt right. There was a part of him that wanted John to call him "Sherlock", too. Again, he didn't know why. Maybe they would become close enough to use each other's first names. That was Sherlock's goal, anyway (well, not his only goal, but it was certainly on the list).

To Sherlock's complete surprise, he actually wanted to woo John. However, that proved to be easier said than done.

Sherlock knew John for five months now, but their relationship was about the same as it was when school started. All of their previous encounters had been...awkward, at best. Their conversations would start out fine and friendly and professional, but he wanted John to be interested in him. The problem was that Sherlock just didn't know what to say. In theory, he knew how to flirt, but John usually said something that would catch him off guard before he could even think about smooth-talking.

Take last week, for example.

Sherlock was finished grading papers and had a couple free periods before his next class. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling of his classroom. He was in the mood to conduct an experiment, but he doubted he could bring in the jar of eyeballs he had back at the flat.

He heard a knock on his door. "Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal John with a book in his hand.

"Hello," John smiled. "Um, I was just reading this," he held up the book in his hand, which was some text on Anatomy, "and I know this isn't your subject, but this seems wrong to me," he opened up to a bookmarked page and pointed to a section of the paper. "Would you be able to tell me?"

"Certainly," Sherlock said, getting up from his chair and walking to stand next to John. This was good; he had a chance to show off his intelligence. This was very good, in fact.

Sherlock skimmed through the section and confirmed John's suspicions. "Utterly ridiculous that a published text should have such a simple mistake," Sherlock said, smirking slightly because he was able to boast in front of John. He was at the top of his game. He felt confident enough to make a subtle move.

"I knew I could ask you," John smiled brighter. "They were right about you."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "Who was right?"

"Everyone I've talked to, practically-that you're some kind of genius. It's kind of incredible, really," his eyes shone with admiration.

Sherlock felt his chest tighten. He hadn't expected that. He would have searched for an appropriate response in his Mind Palace, but he couldn't form a thought at the moment. It wasn't fair, he was supposed to be in control!

John looked at him curiously. "You okay?"

"Mind Palace failing," Sherlock blurted out.

John gave him a wry smile. " 'Mind Palace'?"

The bell marking the end of the period rang, jarring Sherlock and throwing him back into reality.

John closed the book. "I've got a class now. Thanks again for your help, Mr. Holmes."

"Don't mention it," Sherlock waved a hand.

"And good luck with your, uh, Mind Palace. You'll have to tell me about that sometime."

Wait, Sherlock had said that outloud? Before he could ask, John was out of the room.

Sherlock kicked a nearby desk. Damn.

Currently, John was chatting with some teacher-was she a history teacher? Maths?-smiling brightly, the sunlight coming in from the windows highlighting his hair. He saw John's features scrunch up in a sudden laugh, though the rest of the chatter in the room drowned out the sound of it. Sherlock felt a sudden urge to throw the other teacher out of a window.

"Mr. Holmes!"

Sherlock's attention snapped back to...Oh. It was his boss. Great.

"Mr. Holmes, did you listen to a word I said?" Lestrade crossed his arms.

"Of course," Sherlock sniffed.

"Then what was I just talking to you about?"

"You were asking me if I've finished creating the mock exam for my class to which the answer is: yes, I have."

Lestrade sighed. "Lucky guess. I know when you're not listening to me, you get that look on your face."

"What look?" Sherlock asked, looking past Lestrade and discovering that John was alone in the room. Now was his chance to speak with him.

"That look right there," Lestrade said.

"Why are you in the teacher's lounge? Don't you have more important things to do?"

It wasn't wise to talk to his boss that way, especially since that exact behavior got him fired a couple times, but it was Lestrade. Sherlock knew what he could get away with.

Sure enough, Lestrade just groaned. "Jesus, you're lucky you're a good teacher or else I'd have you out of here."

Sherlock smirked and took a sip from his coffee cup. "Good day, sir."

Lestrade clearly suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and walked away, muttering to himself.

Sherlock looked back to John. He was still alone. Perfect.

Sherlock put down his coffee cup on a nearby table (the cleaning staff would get to it eventually) and started walking over to John and...and…

What was he going to say? He couldn't do small talk. It was impossible for his brain to process it, and it would just come off as fake. He could comment on how the shade of John's blue jumper went well with his eyes. That's the type of thing that flatters people, talking about their eyes. Would it come off as unprofessional? Think, Sherlock, think!

"Hello, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock inhaled sharply and his eyes widened. He was standing right in front of John. With no idea what he wanted to say. When did that happen?

John raised an eyebrow. "Er, hello? You in there?"

"Yes, yes, sorry, my mind was somewhere else." He flashed John a smile he suspected was scary as opposed to reassuring and charming.

John nodded, looking skeptical. "Okay, then. Did you want to talk to me?"

Yes. Let's have dinner sometime. "No, no, I was just walking in this general direction." Sherlock kicked himself internally. That didn't resemble what he wanted to say at all.

"You stopped directly in front of me."

Sherlock's fake smile widened even more and became painful. Curse John for being mildly intelligent. "Indeed." His smile faded slightly and became a little more genuine when his mind found a topic of discussion. "So, how did your students do on that test you were telling me about a couple days ago?"

John rolled his eyes. "The ones who whined that they were going to fail did fail. They blamed me, of course."

"Of course," Sherlock nodded, "they never take responsibility, do they?"

"Never, as if it's my fault they sit there texting instead of listening. And then you get the angry phone call from a parent," John shook his head.

"You got an angry parent?" Sherlock snorted.

"Oh, yeah, some mother blaming me for her poor little Charlie's failure. Meanwhile, that kid does nothing but hide his phone under his desk."

"I just kick those idiots out," Sherlock said.

John laughed, "You can't just call them idiots."

Sherlock looked around, but realized that the other teachers were gone. "No one heard me and it's true."

"Yes, yes, but you still have to be careful," John insisted, letting out another laugh. " Well, whatever. I'll be done with them for a while."

"Your students?"

"Yeah, because Ms. Hooper is taking over."

Ah, yes, the student teacher who stared at Sherlock whenever she was around him. "When will she start teaching?"

"Next week. That gives me six weeks to sit back and let her deal with them. I'll just have to grade papers and step in if Ms. Hooper has any trouble."

"She needs a public speaking class," Sherlock muttered.

John snorted. "Don't be that way, she's a nice girl."

"She is, but that doesn't change the fact that she can't speak well in front of a crowd."

"Well, that's what student teaching is for, isn't it?"

Sherlock just hummed and a comfortable silence descended upon them. Now would be a good time to change the direction of their conversation. Sherlock thought about what he should say. Should he go with the thing about the jumper and the eyes? Or should he mention John's new haircut? Yes, that seemed safe.

"Did you get a haircut recently?"

"Oh, yes, I did," John ran his hand through his short, blond hair.

"Looks nice," Sherlock said simply. Coming from a coworker, it was a comment that could be interpreted as friendly, flirty, or creepy. Sherlock just hoped it wouldn't be the last option.

John looked momentarily surprised, but grinned. "Really? Thanks." He looked at Sherlock's hair. "When's the last time yours has been cut?"

Sherlock thought about it. "Last year. Maybe. Don't know. It's not on my list of priorities." Was John asking because he thought Sherlock should get it cut?

"Well, that's good."

"Good?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"Long hair suits you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah," John's eyes scanned over his curls. "Not many people can pull off that look."

Sherlock didn't know what to make of that. "Thank you," he said, eyebrows furrowing. Was John just being polite and returning the compliment Sherlock had given him, or did he really think that? Sherlock's eyes darted to take in all of John's features, but it seemed like a genuine compliment.

Oh. Excellent.

"Excuse me, Mr. Watson?"

The men turned and saw Ms. Hooper, John's student teacher, standing in the doorway. Sherlock scowled. She completely ruined the flow of their conversation!

"Yes, Ms. Hooper?" John gave her his attention.

"Will you look over my lesson plan?" she asked, her hands folded and her thumbs twiddling.

"Absolutely," John smiled and began walking out of the room.

No, no, no! It was going so well!

"Thank you! Hello, Mr. Holmes," she smiled nervously at him.

Sherlock took a deep breath. He shouldn't snap at her in front of John. "Hello, Ms. Hooper."

"Well, duty calls. See you later, Mr. Holmes," John said as he walked out of the room.

"Goodbye, Mr. Watson," Sherlock said, cringing at the formality of it all.

Once alone in the room, Sherlock groaned loudly. Not only did he have to successfully flatter John, but he actually had to find a way to get John alone with him for a long period of time.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

So, I have no idea how long this will be, but I like writing it!

Please review!~