John frowned as he waited till the end of the class. Apparently, Professor Holmes wanted to speak with him - he wondered what he had done this time. Watching the time passing by, he was worried about what he would do to avoid staring at the man; he stared at him for so long in classes that it was almost embarrassing (not to mention the classes where he just couldn't close his legs). Sighing as the bell rang, he waited for the room to become empty and he walked up to Professor Holmes. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" he whispered, shyly. Sherlock Holmes, a rather advanced professor at the all-boys boarding school, looked up at John Watson; a student he had noticed was having problems focusing in his class. He wasn't much older than John himself.
He sighed and put his papers in his bag. Then he turned to John. "Mr Watson, I've noticed you've been having problems focusing in my class. I have theories as to what is troubling you. Do you have any idea why you can't focus?"
"No sir." John muttered, of course he knew why he hadn't been focusing but even if he was tortured to within an inch of his life would he admit why. It was hard enough trying not to stare, never mind telling his teacher he had been doing so. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at his student.
"Are you sure, Mr Watson? You're grades are slipping."
"I know Sir..." John whispered, looking down. Why did his professor have to be so good looking and young...? It was becoming harder and harder not to stare each day. Sherlock slowly nodded his head. "Then I suppose you can go." He pointed a long finger towards the door and turned his back to John. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto his desk.
"Thank you." John said, looking at Sherlock's ass for a split second before walking to the door.
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Sherlock watched John's movements. He started sitting farther away from the front of the class until he had situated himself in the very back, closest seat to the door. John's grades improved minutely but not enough to pass the finals in three weeks' time. He shook his head at the thought of the student. John frowned as he waited till the end of the class. His grades had improved without Professor Holmes there to distract him so easily; he wished he could just admit it without rejection. Sherlock turned around to see John still in the room.
"Yes, Mr Watson? Have a question for me?" He shrugged off his jacket as he sat down to go through the days' worth of papers. So close to finals, the amount was staggering.
"I-I know why I haven't been able to concentrate..." John said shyly as he got up and made his way to the front.
Sherlock was surprised that John was able to admit to himself why he was unable to focus.
"Your friends up front, no doubt. They are a rather distracting bunch of students. That is why I was glad you moved to the back when you did. So close to finals, it's crucial that you focus one hundred percent of your efforts." He looked up at John. "But it's not enough, Mr Watson."
"It's not enough because it's not my friends distracting me." John said as he looked at Sherlock, obviously feeling embarrassed.
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow again. He sat back in his chair and observed the student.
"Your girlfriend, perhaps. Does she go to Presley's next door?"
"I don't have a girlfriend." John said as he ran his hand through his hair.
Sherlock sat forward with his fingers steepled under his nose. He was silent for a moment.
"I'm running out of theories, Mr Watson. Whatever it is, please ensure that it will no longer distract you. I do not think you are one to take to tutoring easily but if it has to be done, it will."
"That will be near impossible to ensure... It's you who's distracting me."