*John's POV*

I stood at my locker, and gazed across the hall at my dream guy. He had black hair, kind of curly. He was super mega tall, like damn. And his cheekbones. Don't even get me started. They were perfect; like two very shiny pearls smashed down flat and put on his lovely stern face. No one talked to him, not even me. But I would've given anything to find a way inside his giant coat and cuddle with him.

Well crap.

That sounded creepier than I thought.

The man of my dreams all of a sudden glanced at me. There was a giant tornado of thoughts in my head. I didn't know what to do. I forgot words, feelings, movement. I just stood there with my mouth open like a bloody idiot. And then, I dropped literally all of my stuff on the ground. SMOOTH MOVE, SELF.

He started walking over to me. Attempting to seem nonchalant, but failing, my eyes grew bigger and bigger (or so it felt) and I tried to push away the urge to kiss him. Right here. Right now.

"Hi," he remarked, "I think you dropped your books."

I just stood there trying to find a way to make words with my mouth and vocal chords but my brain wasn't doing it's signal thing so I just stayed in my place, motionless.

"John?" he said, "Are you going to say something because otherwise you're taking up my valuable time by just standing here. I have important things to do."

What could I have said? What was English? How could I possibly take words from a dictionary and form them into sentences to even begin to describe how perfect he was and how terribly I needed to feel his skin against mine?

"Fine." he mumbled and stomped away.

*Sherlocks POV*

My back was always kept towards him. Always. It had to be. Otherwise, if our eyes happened to meet, I'd have to resist my human nature. Human nature was something I'd always try to avoid. Feelings were something that was alien to me, until Watson came in and ruined it with his rubbish perfection that broke through the windows of my mind palace.

Slamming my Biology book into my locker (which I had insisted to my teacher I did not need but apparently it was required by the state that every student had to own one) I made the mistake of turning around.

He was staring at me. Why was he staring at me?

Maybe he had wanted something so I stomped over to him, attempting to seem like I didn't care. His eyes were wide and beautiful, and his books fell to the floor.

"Hi," I stuttered (why was I so nervous?), "I think you dropped your books."

He remained silent. Such inappropriate thoughts were going through my head. Why couldn't I just let myself kiss him? Because I refuse to stoop to such a low, human, level.

"John?" I loved how his name sounded on my lips, now I'd just melt if he'd say mine, "Are you going to say something because otherwise you're taking up my valuable time by just standing here. I have important things to do." There. Great Job, Sherlock. You've just ruined your own chances at anything.

There was nothing more at this point I wanted then to feel something human. He was right there. We were so close. I just-

"Fine." I mumbled, and stomped away.