Author's Note: Hey guy's! Thanks for all you're lovely reviews! I hope you like chapter two. I'll try and update soon!

John Watson was eight when he started private school. His parents told him he was welcome to come home after the first year, but he declined. They were not his family anymore. The place where he played pirates with the boy from down the street was no longer safe and fun. He didn't really care about it much anymore, he'd desensitized himself to it. The only time he'd cried about it after the first few weeks away was his first holiday back, when he found out Sherlock's mother was gone.

But now he was sixteen, on the football team, and rather popular with the ladies on campus. He actually really enjoyed life at private school, and it was even better since he'd started secondary school at St. Bart's. He even had a room to himself after his old roommate transferred out. Life was good, and he didn't think about the past much. Some nights he couldn't stop the thoughts of his parents from flooding through his mind, and with thoughts of his parents came thoughts of Sherlock. John wondered where the odd little boy ended up, if he was doing alright, but those thoughts came very little, and they only lasted until he fell asleep.

One day John received a letter informing him he'd be getting a new roommate later in the day from his biology teacher at the end of class. He didn't read the name of his new roommate, he just stuffed it in his pocket and made a mental note to clean out his room after football practice.

"Let's go Watson!" Greg shouted waiting at the door for John. Greg was the captain of the football team, and John's best friend. Greg was kind of the king of the school, he seemed older than he was, and everyone respected him for it.

After practice John went back to his room to shower and finish up his homework. He tidied up his room and left for Anderson's dorm. No one really enjoys Anderson, but he has an X-box in his dorm room and Greg likes him so everyone hangs out in there. Sally, Greg, Anderson, Sarah, and a few other kids had already gathered in the room.

Sarah was John's current girlfriend. She wasn't super interesting, but a rumor went around that she gave great head and John had to see for himself. She ended up being more clingy than he expected, but he didn't mind having an actual girlfriend once in awhile. They all hung out as they normally did on weeknights when they weren't too busy.

Dinner started at five thirty, and John suggested they all go meet his new roomate before going to eat. They walked back to the room laughing and behaving as classic teen friend groups did. They got to John's room, and when they pushed open the door they were greeted by a well dressed sixteen-year-old boy with black curly hair. He was unpacking random objects including beakers and books and was that a skull? He turned quickly when John and his friends entered and froze.

John took a second to recognize his face but when it clicked, it clicked. "Shelock?" He whispered to himself with a smile, remembering the time they first met. "Sherlock Holmes?" He asked, not waiting for an answer, as he ran up to hug the boy he hadn't seen in eight years.

Sherlock was stunned, he'd known he would be rooming with John since he arrived and read through his papers, but he was still stunned. Sherlock hadn't been hugged in years, not since his mother died.

John's eyes were closed, his head was on Sherlock's shoulder, and his arms were wrapped tightly around a boy who was standing as stiff as a board. John remembered who he was and where he was and jumped back. Sherlock seemed relieved. John was a little hurt to see it, but pretended he wasn't.

"Um... guys," John said turning to his friends, "This is Sherlock Holmes!" They all greeted and shook hands with a half nervous half agitated Sherlock. Eventually he became less nervous and more annoyed. He hated shaking hands and people forcing themselves to be polite, but he bit his tongue.

Sherlock was invited to dinner, and he would've declined if he couldn't see how excited John was. John was doing a good job of hiding it from his peers, but Sherlock could read him (and the rest of them) like a book.

John felt like he had dragging around Sherlock on his sixth birthday as they walked to the cafeteria. He was surprised that he was able to remember that, he hadn't thought about it in ages. On the way to dinner John hung back with Sherlock pointing out important classrooms and hallways and acting as if it were just completely normal to see Sherlock.

They all ate as they usually did, except this time a pale sulky boy was at the end of their table. Sherlock noted John holding Sarah's hand. Molly Hooper rushed up to join them, staring wide eyed at Sherlock, who was sitting in her usual spot. She sat down next to him, introduced herself, and tried to make conversation. Sherlock mostly ignored her, he focused more on studying his peer group as a whole, paying extra attention to John.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Molly asked, rather noisily Sherlock thought. John looked over curiously, trying not to be too interested in Sherlock, but he couldn't help it. He was curious about his new roomate.

"Not hungry," Sherlock uttered, staring at John, having noticed his interest. John looked away nervously, and joined in on the conversation with his friends. Sherlock was rather quiet, he only interrupted a few times to make rude comments or point out the "obvious." John and Greg found most of his comments funny but a few of the others were getting rather annoyed.

After dinner John walked Sarah back to the girls dorm.

"I don't like that Sherlock kid," she said rather bitterly.

"Why?" John asked but he knew why. "I mean, yeah he's a little rude, and different," John wanted to defend Sherlock, but he couldn't really find a way to.

"He's kind of a freak John, you have to admit," Sarah said as they reached the girls dorm. John shrugged his shoulders and kiss Sarah goodnight, promising to see her tomorrow.

He walked back to the boy's dorm in silence, hands in his pockets, staring up at the stars. He couldn't believe how today had turned out. Over the next few weeks things slid into normality. John and Sherlock quickly became friends, the rest of the group took to Sherlock well enough (although Anderson detested him), and Sherlock started offering himself up to do people's homework, for a small fee that is. Sherlock didn't have too many friends of his own but John's popularity, along with his homework services, prevented the entire school hating him.

Everybody soon realized that Sherlock was basically a genius and he spent most of his free time filling out their papers for them. John, however, would not use Sherlock like that, and he prevented most of his friends from doing it too. Instead he just had Sherlock help him study, which Sherlock claimed to find annoying but they both knew he really thought. They soon became best friends.

It didn't last though. One cold day when Sherlock was walking back to the boy's dorm he was approached by three star members of the rugby team. "Hey, Sherly," One of them said rather rudely. Sherlock kept walking, now he was annoyed, it was obvious that they were going to try and force him to do their homework for free. They started walking with him. One of them stepped in front of him and shoved him back a little bit. Sherlock rolled his eyes. This was such a cliche.

When he got back to the dorm room he was panting and bruised and bleeding. John looked up from his laptop with a smile that faded all too quickly. He rushed to Sherlock, half carried him over to his bed, and sat him down and rushed to the bathroom. Sherlock shrugged off his jacket.

"John it's fine," Sherlock shouted after him. He was back with a wet washcloth.

"What the hell happened to you Sherlock?"John asked sounding rather angry.

Sherlock explained as if it were a boring story from years ago that he didn't even care to mention. John hid his rage for the rugby players as he cared gently for Sherlock. Checking for concussion the way he learned to in his medical class. There was a cut on Sherlock's cheek, and John could already tell we're bruises were going to form, but Sherlock was mostly alright, no sign of any broken bones or serious damage.

There was blood smeared on his face, John sat down next to him and started to wipe it up. They both gave a little nervous laughter, this was a familiar scene. John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Sherlock."

Sherlock faked ignorance, not wanting an apology. "It's hardly your fault a few oafs-"

"No, Sherlock, you know what I'm talking about."

"It's all in the past, John," Sherlock said simply.

"I know, but I've always remembered it, regretted everything, I know I was young but I always felt guilty and I just-"

"John, it's honestly nothing to worry about."

Neither of them realized that they had been whispering and leaning closer together, close enough for John to feel Sherlock's warm breath on his skin as he spoke, close enough to...

Johns eyes darted down to the cut on Sherlock's cheek. Breathing heavy, John leaned in and placed his lips on the red line.

Sherlock held his breath. He should have been expecting it, but he just didn't. Even though he didn't expect it and it made him nervous, a smile slid across his face.

John leaned back staring into Sherlock's eyes with mixed emotion. His eyes darted down again, this time to Sherlock's lips, but he didn't lean in. His heart was racing, he was frozen.

Sherlock did the leaning. His parted lips just hovered infront of John's, barely touching them. After what seemed like a lifetime of heavy breathing. Than John closed his eyes and finished the job, their lips were together, it was like it was years ago, but this time things were differs. They weren't little kids.

The only sound in the room were thier lips smacking together and their heaving panting. John was losing control over himself. He slid his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, and his arms wrapped around Sherlock, pulling him closer.

Sherlock, for the first time since he was a child wasn't thinking, his thought's weren't racing, he was completely focused on leaned more into John, hand on his chest. He let out a moan.

John pulled away. His face looked alarmed, as if he didn't know what he had been doing. He jumped up and started to back away from Sherlock. "I'm not gay," he said seemingly terrified. Sherlock just stared at him wide eyed, he didn't know John would get mad at him.

"John," Sherlock whispered, "I..." He stood up and took a step toward John. John backed away disgusted.

"I'm not gay!" He nearly shouted.

"John," Sherlock said again, eyes starting to well up with tears.

"Shut up! Don't talk to me! Sarah was right you are a freak!" John shouted. He left the room slamming the door behind him. The sound of it was earth shattering for Sherlock. The one time he'd gone after something he wanted it attacked him and slammed the door in his face. He started sobbing, wailing even. He ended up curled up on the floor.

He woke up the next morning in his bed underneath his blankets. John as sitting on the bed across from him, dressed and ready for school to start an hour early. "Can we just pretend last night didn't happen?"

Sherlock nodded. John got up and left the room with his school bags and that was the end of didn't talk to each other or even stand in the same room unless it was completely necessary.

Maybe they would make amends someday.