A/Note: Thanks to Lalidra102, TheCauldron and the guest who took time to leave me a review. I really appreciate it. I liked how the montage turned out, but it's hard to tell if it would make sense to everyone else as it does to me.

All right, first day of school...

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3. The new term

'Sherlock? Wow, you look so different!'

Sherlock looked up and became immediately aware of his own heart rate. John Watson was dropping his rucksack next to him and climbing onto the stool, his jeans straining at the thighs. He found himself suffering of yet another inconvenience of this hormonal phase: his brain staggered and he couldn't speak when it counted. He had read of such effect, but had never experienced it before. John was tanned and also seemed to have grown a bit over the Summer. He looked even stronger than last term, his biceps visibly bulging under the sleeve hem. His hair and eyebrows were bleached by the sun, looking gloriously blonder. He had clearly spent a lot of time outdoors. Calluses on hands, roughened skin on fingertips, slightly stained by dirt. Partial tan, hair, bulked up since last term: not a leisure holiday or work out, but work. Landscaping.

'I didn't know your hair was so curly, you've always had it so short! Did you have a good Summer? You seem to have gotten some sun too.'

Sherlock desperately tried to kick start his mouth. 'Yes, I did. It was good. Summer, that is.' He was disgusted with himself, Dear God, could I at least be able to string one sentence together? Blasted hormones!

John chuckled, 'You're still not much of a talker, though. Good to know some things never change.'

Sherlock battled his tongue into working, but 'Yours?' was the best he could manage.

'Good, thanks for asking. Got a Summer job doing landscaping; it was gruelling but not too bad. Managed to save some money for Uni. But you probably already knew that, didn't you?'

Nothing came out of his mouth, so Sherlock smirked instead.

John arched his eyebrows, 'How about yours?' He scrunched them, 'You look so different and it's not just the hair. I think you're taller. Did you work out?'

'Hm, not exactly. But I was more active than usual, so to speak.' He was relieved to finally sound more like himself.

John was about to say something, but the teacher called out for attention and class started. Sherlock was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Usually he was fascinated by Chemistry classes, but today he was unable to focus. He was distracted and overheated the whole time.

'Sherlock? Are you all right?' John whispered halfway through.

'Hm? Yes, why?'

'Your cheeks are a bit red and your breathing is a little shallow. Are you sick?'

He was shocked that it showed. 'I don't think so.'

'You know, if your breathing doesn't get better, you should go see the nurse. My sister had pneumonia last year and the way you're breathing right now sounds just like she did.'

That unexpected comment had come so out of nowhere that Sherlock just stared at John.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to be meddling. I'll shut up now,' John turned away, swallowing and unconsciously moving his eyebrows.

'No. It's. Good.'

John looked back at him.

'Thanks. I will. Talk to the nurse.'

John gave him a small smile, which caused a strange dip at the pit of Sherlock's stomach.

He leaned conspiratorially, 'Not a problem, mate. Let me know if you need help walking over there. My sister did. I had to put her arm on my shoulder and hold her by the waist, nearly dragging her across the floor.'

Sherlock made a huge effort not to widen his eyes at the image of himself being held like that by John Watson.

'Sherlock? I really think you should go see the nurse after class.'

The best he could manage was to nod and turn his head forward again. He needed to get a grip.

...

Two days later, Sebastian found him outside the Lab building and blocked his way, staring at him from head to toe.

'Freak? What are you doing with a different haircut? Trying to blend in?' His mates chuckled. 'Sorry, that's not working. You're still freaky.' He gave Sherlock one of his annoyingly condescending smiles.

'And your cologne is still stinky. Sebastian, would you kindly move so I can continue to my next class?'

'Ooooh, cheeky are you? Just because you got a bit taller? No freak, I don't think so. I think I'll have to teach you some manners - again.'

'Sebastian, this is tedious.'

'Oh, but necessary. I think I won't just lock you up this time. I'll personally teach you how to keep your mouth shut. It's been a while since your last lesson.'

'I wouldn't if I were you.'

'Why? Who's gonna stop me?' Sebastian grinned and spread his arms, looking around. He stepped closer and swung his arm.

He would always start with a slap, then another, and another, before getting into anything more serious. They were more annoying and humiliating than punches. This time, Sherlock was prepared. He held up his hand and blocked the slap. In a quick and fluid motion, he pulled his opponent forward and out of balance, then twisted the wrist towards the bully's forehead. Sebastian cried out in pain and was brought down to his knees, as his mates gasped. He let go once Sebastian was on the ground.

He stared up in surprise, then his face darkened, 'What are you playing at?' He got up, rubbing his wrist. 'You'll pay for this, freak.'

'I'd like to see you try,' Sherlock replied with a smirk.

Sebastian took a step forward, swinging his arm for a punch. Sherlock sidestepped, blocked the punch and struck him squarely on the nose, drawing blood. That was surprising, he didn't expect the punch to be so effective. Unfortunately, he also saw the blood in Sebastian's eyes. This was different than other times, and not only for the obvious reasons. Keep calm. He felt confident he could handle Sebastian, but he hadn't trained against multiple attackers. Not that they hadn't considered it, but there was only so much training he could do with only Mr. Bart for sparring partner. Sebastian advanced trying to hit him, but Sherlock blocked blow after blow, backing up, feinting, side stepping. He countered every hit with a slap instead of a punch, just for fun. Payback.

One of the other boys held his arms from behind, causing a momentary panic in him. Stupid, I should've paid more attention to the others. Sebastian grinned and pulled his fist back. Using the boy holding him as support, Sherlock pulled his legs up and kicked with both feet. One foot caught Sebastian on the chin, sending him flying backwards and knocking him out cold as he hit the wall. With his momentum on the way down, Sherlock crouched and flung the boy holding him over his head. The bully was lucky enough to land on the grass, but the impact still left him winded, dazed and groaning. Finally the other three boys came out of their surprised stupor and sprung towards Sherlock, intent in beating him to a pulp.

'Oi!' someone shouted, but he didn't look around. He needed to pay attention to the fists swinging at him.

'Move around quickly Sherlock, non stop, to keep your opponents grouped, or better yet, in line. Avoid at all costs being surrounded. One or two strikes to disable one, then concentrate on the other. Make each strike count.'

He positioned himself so one attacker was blocking the others, then moved forward as the boy was just pulling his arm back for a punch. Sherlock aimed for the chin, to purposely knock him out with a single strike. In no time the second opponent went around his falling mate and hit Sherlock hard on the cheek. He felt a bit dazed and could feel it bruising already. But before a second strike was flung he ducked and countered with a punch on the stomach. With the boy's forward momentum it packed a lot more force; he fell to his knees and heaved, completely out of breath and uninterested in continuing the fight. Still, Sherlock knocked him out for good measure.

He was breathing a little hard, but more in excitement of his first real fight successfully won. In a flash he remembered there was yet a third boy and swung on his feet, stance ready.

'Wow! That was brilliant!'

John Watson was standing over an unconscious boy, with his mouth open, fists still clenched at his sides. He was the one that had yelled earlier.

'That was amazing! Sherlock,' he frowned deadpan, 'what exactly did you do this last Summer?'

Sherlock was pleased with the compliments and smiled. He ran past him, 'Run first, compliment later.'

He heard John's laughter and running steps right behind him.

'I thought it would be useful to learn a thing or two about self defence,' he said over his shoulder as they ran.

Once they had run past the rugby pitch and were near the locker rooms John stopped him, panting and leaning against the building.

John grinned at him. 'I saw the whole thing. These idiots are cowards, five to one? I ran once I saw Burt holding you. But you had it all under control, even if I hadn't stepped in.' He shook his head, 'I still can't believe it!'

It was a good thing he was already flushed from the fight and the run. Later on today he'd have to stop by Mr. Bart's and thank him. For more reasons than one.

'How's your cheek?'

'Mm? Oh, this?' He touched his own face checking for blood. 'It's all right. I've had worse.'

'Let me see it,' John held Sherlock's arm and made him turn so they faced each other. Then with a surprisingly light and gentle touch on his jaw, had him turn the face a bit to the side. Sherlock's eyes darted everywhere, just as erratic as his heart rate. The fingertips were warm, dry and rough against his skin, with an earthy scent, sending a flash of heat inside his body.

'Still, you should put some ice in it. Come here, we have an ice maker in the rugby kit room, let's get you a bag.'

He followed John into a small room packed with shelves and sports equipment, his heart jumping to images of possibility. Being alone with him in a small room. John took a small plastic bag and filled it with crushed ice, 'Unfortunately, we do use this machine a lot. It does help with keeping bruises from swelling and going too black,' he tied a practiced knot. 'Here, hold this up until we get to our classes.' He slapped Sherlock's arm, 'Come on, we'd better hurry. We don't want to run into those bastards again!'

Sherlock didn't know what to say, so he just walked briskly to catch up with John.

'Seriously, Sherlock. Meet me after classes today, I want to hear all about how you learned all this.' Both entered the building, still grinning. 'The way you moved around them was brilliant! They simply couldn't...'

The fight had been highly satisfying. But more than his success, he was thrilled that John had seen it and was praising him for it. More than that, he had come to help him. More than that, he was now walking by his side, laughing with him.

That was something.

...

The rest of the day passed in a blur, all Sherlock could think of was that he would be meeting John after class.

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A/Note: Tomorrow we'll learn a bit more about Mr. Bart. And the technique Sherlock used. And please review. :)