After school, John watched his sister walk away with Clara. Clara had her own flat. Their age difference was only three years and Clara was already set to finishing her second year of college. John smiled, seeing the love both had for one another. He wished he could persuade their father, who thought all homosexuals were the devil themselves, that it wasn't bad to love the other sex.
Sighing, he turned from Harry and Clara as they disappeared, and faced Lestrade. They'd been commenting about football for the last few minutes between their whole group when John pulled Molly over, smiling wide.
"Guess who ogled the new kid!" He called and everyone turned, including Lestrade. Molly turned a red so bright her brown hair couldn't even hide it as she bowed her head. Lestrade focused on her, a look close to jealousy setting his jaw muscles tight.
Thought so, John thought sadistically as he pretended innocence picking on her.
"He just looked so mysterious! He's really cute!" She hit John on the chest and moved out of his reach.
John's girlfriend slipped up next to him, wrapping her fingers between his. "I don't think he's cute." She breathed and he smiled, pulling her close.
"Oh, Addy, why's that?"
"I love it when you call me by my last name, John." She breathed, her eyes focusing deeply into his. Suddenly, he was pulled into her eyes, focused solely on her being. "And I find you more delectable a morsel than any other male, or female, around." Her eyes sparkled and he felt himself tighten in his pants. Before he could ruin the fun with his friends by getting ribbed at for having a boner, he pulled away from her, leaving a knowing smile on her face.
As Lestrade eyed Molly but kept his distance, the group of friends wandered from the school towards the middle of town where they might find something of interest to keep them company until their parents demanded them home.
To keep the parents away from wondering where Harry was, John spent all of his time before bed talking with them. As usually, when he walked through the door, they asked about her but he started talking about how practices started one day closer, as well as showing them the papers he'd gotten A grades on. She wasn't mentioned the rest of the night.
When he'd finished getting ready for bed, John went from his room quietly to Harry's. She was actually lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She started violently as the door opened but she relaxed when she saw it was him.
"Is she nice to you?" He asked as he crawled in next to her.
"Yes, she's an angel. She has this wonderful little kitten she found. It sleeps at the top of the bed with us sometimes." She continued to ramble about how happy she was, whispering all of it into my ear. I kept nodding at her, more than happy for her. Years back, it had been a lot harder on her when our parents devoted most of their attention to me but she seemed to be getting over it. Clara was doing wonders for her.
In under an hour, though, Harry slipped out her window and John slipped back into his bed. There was a window right above his bed, sometimes John opened the curtains and looked outside. Tonight, he could hear the rain and it lulled him to sleep.
For about a month, John didn't see his sister much. She was smart enough to pass school without being there every day. And she was basically a ghost enough in the house that she didn't even show up five out of seven days a week. When he did see her, she would hug him and thank him for everything he did for her.
As well, he spent most classes that Sherlock shared with him grinding his teeth together in an effort to not downright tackle the man to the floor. Once, he came close to saying something but the moment he snapped, the bell rang and Sherlock was out the door before John even stood up.
Practice started and John was almost too busy to spend time with his girlfriend, though she had cheer-leading practice.
One particular day, when John showed up and his girl was in a sour mood, they fought pretty hard.
"I don't see why you can't make more room for me. What do you do before you go to bed? I never get more than a few texts from you a day and most of the time I don't even know if you're with someone else!"
"Irene, I'm not cheating on you." John said calmly, using her first name to point out how serious he was. Unfortunately, she was in the mood to fight and they raged arguments over the next few hours between classes.
This did not bode well for when he sat down in the class he shared with Sherlock, he knew he was going to snap. He knew, the moment the teacher started the class that he wouldn't last long enough. For the first twenty minutes, he griped his pencil as tight as he could, almost snapping it. But when the teacher said something off-handed about a particular project never fully accomplished, though tried countless times and Sherlock didn't even try to hide his snicker.
John stood and spun, surprising the students beside him and making the teacher stop mid-sentence.
"If you think you're so much smarter than the whole class, Sherlock bloody Holmes, why don't you test out and go somewhere else! Let the rest of us learn!" Sherlock didn't move, but kept eye contact with John. The whole class seemed to be holding their breath.
The teacher broke the silence. "John Watson, please go to the office for swearing. Take your things with you." John huffed and piled up his things, storming from the class. Instead of detention, he was told he couldn't do practice tonight.
"But he's always interrupting the class! I can barely get any work done!"
"No one has reported it and it hasn't been an issue. I'll look into it but there's not much I can do today."
With that, John was asked to go to the library for a study hall. Coincidentally, his next class was study hall. Normally, he didn't take it in the library but today he had no choice. He took advantage and got all of his homework done, plus a ton of notes for future chapters. Afterwards, he sat quietly and read a book.
To his surprise, John realized how little time it had taken him to finish everything and get to the book when the bell rang and a bunch of kids came in, checked books out or looked at computers for a few minutes, then left right before a second bell sounded.
About to go back to his book, John suddenly felt his blood boil as he watched a lanky, dark figure walk through the doors. He wore a backpack and a bored expression. He glanced up, his eyes shooting across the room only to see John sitting, all alone, reading. John didn't stop looking at Sherlock as the boy came in, signed for a computer, and got on.
No way John was going to stay in here alone with that kid for the next hour or so. He stood up but the librarian, aware of why John was there, looked up sharply and gave him a warning look. John harrumphed as he sat back down. Not even twenty minutes in, Sherlock removed himself from the computer and walked to the desk John sat at.
For a few moments, John wasn't aware Sherlock had actually stopped in front of him. He looked up from the book to find the sharp blue eyes staring at him coldly.
"The science teacher is an idiot." Sherlock stated flatly, his expression unchanged. John frowned, cocking his head to the side.
"Okay."
"It's obvious. He doesn't know half of what he's talking about."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't ask you."
"No, but you seemed interested earlier. Not many people speak to me in such a way. Most people enjoy my input and am grateful for the correction." John couldn't believe his ears. He sat forward, placing his book on the table in front of him.
"So you're telling me that everyone lets you walk all over them like a big jerk and then are grateful you did so? I highly doubt it."
"I'm not a very liked person."
Both boys stood in silence, John not wanting to talk to the weird kid anymore. Sherlock pivoted without a word and walked between the isles of the books. He picked a few, seemingly at random, and then sat down at another table. He looked through them almost impossibly fast to be actually reading them, let alone getting anything from the pages.
John rolled his eyes and tried his hardest the rest of the time to ignore Sherlock's existence.
After the school day, John literally had no one to spend time with. Irene had told him to shove it in unkind places when he'd tried talking to her after school before she'd gone to cheer-leading, so he stood outside where she'd left him and just sighed, wondering what to do with his life.
After everyone else had gone off, he was still sitting on the school grounds by a tree. Maybe she'd talk to him after practice. Of course, once she was done, he waved her over and she came but she said she just wanted to let him know she was going with some friends and he could go home.
Irate, he watched her wander off with her friends. Practice for football wouldn't be over still for at least an hour and he had steam he needed to be rid of. So he walked back into the school, not sure what he planned, and went to the locker rooms. Maybe he could just sort through his things and see if that would help. He had nothing else to concentrate his mind on.
The moment the door closed behind him from the locker room, he heard a noise and when he went into the showers, he saw a lanky body standing in the steam of the water. Dark, wet hair dripped and threaded together along the curves of the bones under the skin. John took a few seconds to realize his mouth was ajar before he snapped it shut, looking directly into Sherlock's eyes.
Neither said a thing for a few moments and Sherlock didn't move to cover himself. John didn't hide him checking Sherlock out, but he didn't linger in case Sherlock thought anything. The man wasn't a sight for sore eyes.
Wordlessly, John left the locker rooms.