Chapter One
I always figured I'd be one of those people who would never find that special someone to spend the rest of their lives with. It's amazing how your world spiraling out of control can change all that. Turns out, I may have found someone after all. Nobody really understands a lot of what's happened in the last few hours, but one thing I know for sure is that I didn't expect my "someone" to be him. I probably would have never found out, either, if it weren't for how the last few days unfolded. Monday morning was just as normal as any other day. School started at 8:00 am, sharp.
We were all in our seats, though some of the cockier sixth form college students were sitting on top of their desks. It was like some sort of ritual they had to perform to prove they were now at the top of the school food chain. I hadn't really noticed when he came in, but at some point he did, and he took his seat with all of us right before class started. Attendance was taken. When my name was called, I answered in the same sleepy voice I used every morning. See, I am the captain of the rugby team. I'm used to coming home late. Sherlock's response had a lot more cheer in it than anyone should be able to muster at 8 in the morning, which was usual. Class continued as it usually did: the teacher expected us to take notes, and in reality we spent more time passing them. She used to scold us, but by this point in the year, I think we had all reached a bit of a détente.
I begin to write a note then pass it to Sherlock, like I always do. Our notes usually said 'Let's hang out this weekend.' or something along those lines, but this note was different. My heart is racing as I pass the note to him, but before I could, our teacher takes the note from my hand. My face blushes.
"Mrs. Hudson, you don't want to read that aloud." I command, but it was too late.
"Sherlock, I'm not that great with expressing my feeling. I cannot put my feelings into words, but I like you. I've like you for a while. I hope you like me too. Signed, John." My face turns a bright red as the whole class bursts out laughing, except Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock stares at me. I run out the classroom. Sherlock hesitates but follows me. I begin to freeze in embarrassment. I should have not written that note in the first place.
"John, are you alright?" Sherlock places a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and blink in confusion. Why did he follow me? I think. I sigh while looking at my shoes. My face begins to cool down. I look up at him again. I step closer to him. My warm hands reach for his cool face. I pull him closer, and our lips meet. I close my eyes when our lips meet. His eyes are widen with surprise. A small blush forms on Sherlock's face. I could feel it. His hands grab the back of my navy blue hoodie. He returns my kiss. Our lips knead on each other gently.
"Ahem." A woman's voice interrupts us. We both look at her, our eyes broaden with bewilderment. It's our principal. "My office, now." We had no choice, so we follow her. When she wasn't looking, I held onto Sherlock's hand. He smiles a little. After she leads us to her office, we sit in chairs in her office. They were very stiff.
"What were you two thinking?! Skipping class and performing PDA?! I could have you kicked off the rugby team, Mr. Watson." She firmly announces.
"No, please! They need me!" I beg.
"I won't, because of the game coming up next Friday, but consider this a warning, both of you." She glares at us, but then sends us back to class. We leave the office. I hold Sherlock's hand again. Sherlock holds my hand back. I couldn't take it anymore. I push him up against the lockers softly. His eyes broaden with astonishment, but his expression quickly changes to a smirk. I smirk back at him. I kiss him again. He returns the kiss. My tongue slips into his mouth. This surprises him, but he allows it. My tongue dominates his. He pulls back for air. I take a deep inhale then release it.
"Do you want to go out tonight?" I inquire.
"When?" He responds
"Is seven good for you?" He nods in response.
After school ended, we split into our separate ways. I kissed him on the cheek as to say 'See you later.' John walks home. Sherlock runs home to get ready in time. He didn't walk home with John that day. He rummages through his closet for something to wear. He sighs. He didn't find anything pleasing. He pulls a purple button up shirt out of his closet. Sherlock undresses and puts on a pair of slacks and the purple button up shirt. He looks at his hair and fluffs it up a little to make it appear nicer. He smiles a little. He rushes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. After he finishes, a knock on the door echoes across the house. Mrs. Holmes answers the door.
"Oh, hello, Mrs. Holmes. Is Sherlock ready?" I ask.
"I'll go check. Come inside." Mrs. Holmes welcomes me. I enter the household. I sit down on the couch and waits for Sherlock. Mrs. Holmes walks into Sherlock's bathroom. He is in the middle of shaving his face.
"Mother!" He shouts in surprise. He sees her in the mirror.
"John's here." She says before walking out. He finishes shaving his face, then wipes off his face with a wet washcloth. Sherlock examines himself in the mirror, exhales then walks into the living room. I stand up quickly.
"You look good. Well, not that you don't always..." My greeting trails off. Sherlock smiles a little. I am wearing a white cotton button up and a pair of jeans.
"Thank you." Sherlock studies me. I have a slight blush to his face. I look at him, then raise an eyebrow in confusion. I wasn't sure why Sherlock is staring at me. I clear my throat in awkwardness. Sherlock looks away.
"Should we go?" I suggest, Sherlock nods in agreement. We wave goodbye to Mrs. Holmes then head out to my car. I fiddle around in my pockets for my keys. I find them and unlock the doors. Sherlock climbs in the passenger side. I get in the driver side.
"Where are we going?" Sherlock wonders.
"I have this really nice spot in the woods that I want to show you."
After a long drive, we arrive in the woods. we climb out of the car. I walk out to the back of the car and unlock the trunk. There is a picnic basket and a bottle champagne in the trunk. I carry the basket, and Sherlock carries the champagne. Sherlock closes the trunk, and I begin to walk. Sherlock follows me. There is something on Sherlock's mind, and it's nagging him, but he pushes that feeling down. He mustn't worry. He should be happy. Sherlock smiles. I look at him and smile. Sherlock blushes a little, but I turned away before I could see Sherlock blushing.
"We're here." I announce. We arrive at a grassy patch with a stream near it. The leaves are shades of red and green. The stream was running softly with its crystal clear water. I set down the basket, drop down on one knee and pull a blanket out of the picnic basket. I lay the blanket down, put the basket on the blanket, then sit down. I pat the spot next to me for Sherlock. Sherlock sits down next to me, but not close to me. I sit the champagne bottle between us.
"You hungry?" I ask. Sherlock nods. I open the basket and pull out two plates, then hand one to him. Sherlock takes it. "My mother made us spaghetti. You like spaghetti, right?" I hand him a fork.
"Yeah." Sherlock unwraps the foil on the plate, then begins to eat his spaghetti. I unwrap my plate and eats off my plate.
"John?" Sherlock calls the attention of me. I turn to look at him; my mouth full of spaghetti. I chew then swallow.
"Yes?" I reply.
"When?" I pour him a glass of champagne, then pour myself a glass. Sherlock takes his own glass. I drink from my own glass.
"What?" I ask, but I take another drink of champagne.
"When did you have feelings for me?" Sherlock questions me. I spit my champagne out. I cough. I had to think about that. "Well, it was difficult, especially after Mary moved, but I guess it started when you told me 'Rugby.'" He freezes up by my answer. I shake him a little. He shakes his head to pull himself back to Earth. We finish our dinner. We place our plates back into the basket. I pour him another glass of champagne.
"How did you get champagne anyway?"
"I stole it from my older sister's room."
"You bad boy." He smirks. I kiss him again. He pulls me closer, and I allow it. My fingers dig into his curly, dark hair. A smile grows on his face. It's glowing. His mouth tastes very sweet. The sun was starting to set. He pulls away from our kiss. I'm left gasping for air.
"It's getting late." Those are the words I didn't want to hear. I could feel my heart shatter. I wish we could stay a little longer. I didn't want this moment to end.
"I understand." Those are the words I didn't want to say, but I did. I couldn't force him to stay any longer. We chug down the rest of the champagne left in our glasses. I pack up the basket. He takes my free hand, and we take our walk back to the car. What we saw would haunt us forever.
My car is vandalized. The windows are broken. The words 'gay' and 'faggot' were spray painted onto the doors of the car. The windshield had a note tape to it. I walk up to my vandalized car to read the note. The note reads: 'Hope you had fun being on the team, faggot.' I rip the note in angry. Why would the rugby team do this to me? I grumble in angry. Sherlock reaches out for my shoulder. I turn to look out him.
"Are you okay?" He asks. I pull him into a hug, dropping the basket.
"Damn rugby team did this..." I mumble into his shirt. I'm fighting the urge to cry out of anger, but I don't. I don't cry because of Sherlock. He may not understand how I feel, but at least he cares.
After we clean up the broken glass out of the car, I drive Sherlock back to his house. We get out of the car and walk up to his front porch. He takes my hands.
"I had a great time, really."
"Me too." I reply. He pulls me into a kiss. My hands grip the back of his shirt. Our lips massage each other. Our kiss is interrupted by Sherlock's mother.
"Boys! Not on my porch." Her eyes glance to my car. Her jaw drops. "What happened?! Who did this?! I'll give them a piece of my mind." She declares. I couldn't help but smile. She's treating me like one of her sons. I think I found my second family.
I go home and explain to my parents why my car is vandalized. They were angry, but not at me. I head up to my room and change into pajamas. I plop onto the bed, and close my eyes. I dream of Sherlock that night. My smile stretches across my face.