Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from this series. Because honestly, if I did, hot damn c;
Pairing: John Watson & Sherlock Holmes
Style: AU teen!lock
Word Count: 1,255
Rating: M (for language, and just to be sure)
Synopsis: John is the big man on campus. Sherlock is the new kid at school. Perhaps love isn't a chemical defect after all.
Chemicals.
John Watson was the big man on campus.
In high school, John was prom king, captain of the football team, and voted most likely to succeed in life. John always hoped that his popularity would follow him to uni.
It did.
Sherlock Holmes was not.
In high school, Sherlock was valedictorian, self proclaimed president, treasurer, and sole member of the deduction club, and voted most likely to grow up to be a serial killer. Sherlock didn't care about ridiculous things such as popularity in high school or in uni.
He was in for a surprise.
It was the first day of school.
Seniors marauded about, too cool for the notion of getting to class on time.
Freshmeat ran about the campus, noses stuffed into their white paper campus maps.
It was a normal beginning of a year.
"Hey Watson!" he heard someone shout from down the street. "Scottie's Pub, you in?"
John chuckled, "You know, I think we should at least not skip the first day of classes, huh?"
"Yeah, whatever nerd," the voice retorted, turning around and continuing down to the pub.
John smiled, and continued walking towards Thayer Hall, being a senior, he lucked out and got his choice of class first hour; military tactics.
John walked into class to be met with a frowning teacher.
"You're late,"
"I'm sorry profeesor," John smiled sheepishly, running fingers through his hair, causing a lustful sigh from a few girls in the class. "It wont happen again, I promise."
It would.
John slung his backpack off his shoulder and motioned to sit down at the first available desk.
"No." the teacher said, staring at John, butt halfway down into the desk that was just a bit too small.
"No?" John replied quizzically .
"No. You are to go see Mrs. Hudson at Resident Life," the professor said, shuffling papers on his desk.
"Um, okay?" John replied, grabbing his backpack, and walking out of the classroom.
John hadn't been to reslife since his freshman year. He couldn't imagine what they wanted with him.
"With all do respect Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock spat through his teeth, "I hardly think I require a baby sitter."
"He is not a baby sitter Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson sighed, exasperated from arguing this point with Sherlock for what has been a good ten minutes.
"Then what would you call him?" Sherlock gritted. Before she could answer Sherlock cut in again. "And what is his purpose? I am perfectly capable of navigating a campus with out adult supervision. And why-"
"Because you're 16 Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson shouted, finally at her wits end.
Sherlock finished high school three years early. He had completed all the credits needed to graduate by his freshman year. He was forced to spend another year in high school because the university he wished to attend had a minimum age policy of 16, and that was for only the brightest of students. Which he was.
Sherlock had no qualms about going to uni early. His age gave him quite a few benefits, such as a single dorm, which freshman almost never get. However, his age also had downsides. Such as the fact that he needed a chaperone to follow him around campus for a week to get him acclimated.
Sherlock crossed his arms across his chest, and huffed down into his seat, deciding not to pursue the argument any further. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence until the door creaked open.
"Ah, hello Mr. Watson," Mrs. Hudson greeted with a smile.
"Uh, hey Mrs. Hudson. What's going on?" John replied.
Sherlock's stomach flipped at the sight of this college boy.
'What the fuck was that' Sherlock wondered in his head, not knowing what to think about this weird feeling he's getting for the first time.
"Well Mr. Watson," Mrs. Hudson continued, completely oblivious to the utter turmoil churning in the depths of Sherlock's stomach. "We would like to ask you a favor."
"Sure, whatever you need," John replied, not missing a beat.
At the sound of John's voice, Sherlock's stomach did it again. He didn't know what was happening. He thought back to all his biology and anatomy classes, trying to conjure some type of medical explanation for the knots forming in the pit of his stomach and the rapid beating of his heart.
"Well, we have a new student on campus, and we would like to know if you wouldn't mind showing him around for a week or two. You are apparently quite popular around here, and the least delinquent of your friends."
John smiled and raised a brow, "Well, I don't see why not," he replied, deciding to take that last comment as a compliment. "Who am I showing around, might I ask?"
"A Mister Sherlock Holmes," she smirked, gesturing towards the occupied seat in the corner of the office.
John didn't see anyone when he walked in, so was all the more surprised when, lo and behold, there was a student sitting in a chair in the corner.
He was beautiful, John thought as his stomach flipped.
'What the fuck was that' John thought, not understanding why this boy was making him feel this way.
John swiveled back around towards Mrs. Hudson.
"I thought we were only supposed to show around the underage, genius kids," he asked, not wanting to believe that this boy was so young. He looked, 20, easily.
"Mr. Holmes is 16."
Sherlock didn't even make a snide comment as per usual. He was too stunned to do much of anything right now.
John's eyes opened wide, he too was stunned. How could someone this beautiful be 16?
'Did I just call him beautiful? What the hell is going on with me?!' John ranted internally.
Both boys were far too concerned by the weird things happening to their bodies to notice the long silence that had descended upon them. Or that they were unconsciously staring at each other. Or that Mrs. Hudson was watching them, smirking all knowingly.
"Aren't you two lovebirds going to introduce yourselves?" Mrs. Hudson grinned.
Both boys were shaken from their individual reveries about the other, and completely missed Mrs. Hudson's sly remark.
"Uh, yes. Um, John Watson," he stuck his right hand out to shake, running his left fingers through his hair, again smiling sheepishly.
At the sight of this, a sudden rush of blood coursed through Sherlock's veins and ended up somewhere blood had never rushed to before. He was so alarmed by this foreign sensation; he almost forgot to shake the outstretched hand. He knew what was happening to him. He'd aced health class after all, but he'd never experienced the sensation first-hand before. His head was clouded, heart was racing, and his palm was sweating profusely into John's tight grip.
Sherlock couldn't focus. He mustered all of his energy and cleared his throat.
"Ahem, I'm Sherlock Holmes"
His deep, velvety tone echoed through John's ears. That is not the voice of a 16-year-old boy. The rich, throaty sounds of his voice caused John's heart to beat rapidly, sending a surge of blood through his body and straight to where blood should never go.
They released hands, and wiped their sweaty palms on their jeans.
On the outside, both boys wore fake smiles of nonchalance, but on the inside they were both screaming. Hoping and praying that the other wouldn't glance down to find the bulge growing in their crotch area. Their minds both a cacophony of worry and shame and misplaced excitement.
"shit."