Sherlock swirled out of the lab with John hot on his heels. As they walked quickly, Sherlock explained his plan. "Dimmock has study hall this period, and as he was occupied during lunch, he will certainly be completing his transaction this period. There aren't any security cameras in this building, but most of the school is occupied during the day, so where would Dimmock go to be alone?" He didn't seem to want an answer, but John gave him one anyway.
"The maths corridor," John suggested. Sherlock froze in step, turning with surprise etched across his face. "The teachers all go out for lunch together on Thursdays, I heard them discussing it. And the students never go down there to eat, there aren't any trash cans or lights other than the rooms, and those are locked."
"Oh, you, that is- Brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed, clapping his hands sharply like a child and attracting the stares of a few students in the hallway. He started to run with John by his side, racing towards the maths hall. They skidded to a stop immediately upon turning the corner and catching sight of a smaller brunette boy slipping a small baggie filled with white powder to Dimmock.
"Sebastian Wilkes," Sherlock said coolly. "I knew you were involved in this somehow." The smaller boy, Sebastian, whirled and started to run. Sherlock immediately knocked Dimmock to the ground, pinning him effectively, and then he shouted, "John, catch him!" and pointed after the brunette who was sprinting away from them. John took off, catching him up easily and tackling him to the ground, right at the feet of the vice principal.
"John Watson!" Ms. Donovan shouted. "What do you think you're doing?" John tried to sit up while still holding the struggling boy down.
"Well, Ms. Donovan-" John began, but a posh voice interrupted him.
"Check Seb's pockets," the voice drawled. John looked behind him to see Sherlock leaning against the wall, his designer clothes making a crisp contrast to the age-stained cinderblock behind him. Beside the boy was Principal Lestrade, who was holding Dimmock firmly by the upper arm. "You'll find at least a dozen baggies of cocaine, prepared for distribution. John was assisting me in his apprehension. Come on, John, things to do," Sherlock said, spinning on his heel and flashing a smile to fair-sized group of students that had formed to surround the spectacle. It didn't sit right on his face, it seemed forced and sat awkwardly on his lips as he stepped forward. The group parted like the Red Sea as Sherlock walked through and remained open so John could follow once he'd picked himself up.
After they'd rounded a few corners, they dissolved into adrenaline-fuelled laughter, leaning against the wall in abandon as they laughed, John's hands on his knees and Sherlock's head tossed back against the wall. John took the moment to take in this strange boy. His clothes were expensive, but subtly so; an auberigne dress shirt and plain black slacks, perhaps a bit smart for school, but Sherlock managed to pull it off. His hair was the only thing about him that didn't seem perfectly put together, the riotous black curls fell messily into his indeterminately grey eyes, making him look young and carefree as he laughed, high cheekbones blushing lightly.
Their laughter petered out comfortably, leaving them with heaving chests and John with a vague confusion as to why they were laughing in the first place. Sherlock turned to John with a large grin, this one feeling much more genuine. "Care to skip the rest of today?" he offered.
"Lead the way," John replied. Sherlock led them out a side exit and down the block to an Italian restaurant, where the owner greeted Sherlock as an old friend, rather than a delinquent teenager.
"I helped Angelo with a staffing issue he was having," Sherlock explained as the man led them to the only open booth in the building. It was a lone bench, facing the window, which would force them to sit nearly thigh to thigh.
"He helped me catch the punk who was stealing from our night deposit," Angelo clarified, placing a lit candle on the table and shooting John a broad wink. John spluttered for a moment but Sherlock seemed to not care, so his protests subsided as they settled in to the seat. Once they'd placed their orders, Sherlock casually slung his arm over John's shoulder. John raised an eyebrow, and Sherlock shrugged, as if to say my arms are long, what do you want me to do? John allowed it. Frankly, Sherlock was rather attractive, and John certainly wasn't opposed to a little… exploration.
When their food arrived, John was leaning comfortably leaning into Sherlock's side, enjoying the warmth the slender boy provided as they ate. He'd stuck to what he'd known, ordering a penne pasta with alfredo sauce. Sherlock had ordered some type of soup, which he hardly touched while John ate. Once their food was done, Sherlock rose, giving Angelo a wave as they left.
"Let's head back to my place, Mycroft is out, and we've got a rather remarkable theatre system," Sherlock said, waving down a taxi effortlessly. John grinned and slid into the cab. Perhaps things were looking up.