'Clear out the way Sherlock,' John cried as he half-ran, half-limped his way to the pools edge before launching himself into the air. He was suspended for about 2 seconds, his smile widening as he saw Sherlock's look of shock: he was heading for a collision. Before he even had time to take a breath, Sherlock had been pushed under the water by the small, yet surprisingly heavy John.

The contact of the body against his drifted away and Sherlock bought his head to the surface, the need to refill his lungs overcoming any want to remain dignified. As expected, John was holding onto the side of the pool, his laughter echoing around the relatively quiet building and the rise and fall of his chest creating ripples in the already disturbed water.

'What *gasp* was *gasp* that for?' Sherlock breathed, words tumbling from his lips.

'I TOLD you I'd get you back!' John laughed.

It was true. He did say he'd get him back for taking the tea that John kept in a flask and replacing it with coffee to see John's reaction.

Sherlock had had a weird week. Despite always hanging around where no-one would find him during lunch, everyday, John had managed to track him down for the last half of lunch every day. They didn't really do anything, just sat, enjoying each others company. Occasionally, Sherlock would deduce a passing student or member of staff, all of which made John burst into giggles, all the while praising Sherlock's observational abilities.

Sherlock found he quite liked having a friend, someone to share stories with, to smile at and be praised by. He didn't know why, but Sherlock by the end of the week, Sherlock had found himself craving John's company. The want to always be by him, to touch him, it was almost too much.

But he endured it. Because it was John.

John's laughter subsided and the two began to swim some lazy lengths beside each other. It was peaceful, having the water cut either side of their bodies as they slowly made their way from one end of the pool to the other.

Well, it was peaceful. Until Sherlock saw a familiar ginger head and rounded figure observing him & his friend from the benches. He looked ridiculous: tweed suit, infuriatingly smug expression and to top it all off, he had been forced to wear the blue bags to cover his shoes. A sudden flame of annoyance began in Sherlock's stomach. How dare he show up here?

'Damn you Mycroft,' he muttered under his breath, instantly becoming stiff in his strokes and keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

'What is it?' John asked his friend, looking in the direction Sherlock had been shooting daggers in, 'It's that guy isn't it? The ginger one who is staring at you?'

Sherlock felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Why couldn't his brother leave him alone?

'He's no-one John, it's not an issue,' Sherlock said, trying to swim away from that scrutinizing stare.

John swam beside him in silence.

'Do you like him Sherlock?' John asked quietly. Sherlock stopped. He managed to swallow some of the pool, causing him to choke a little. John patted him on the back, each point of contact sparking something inside Sherlock which made him shiver slightly.

'Jesus, try not to die mate,' John said once the coughing had ended, 'It...I don't know, it looked like you liked him, what with the blush and the staring and then acting all shy.'

Sherlock saw the logic behind John's reasoning, but it didn't stop his bubbling anger.

'Why,' Sherlock said through gritted teeth, 'Would I ever feel that way about my brother?'

John's face paled.

'Oh,' he said, all other words dying in his throat.

They continued swimming for a while until John decided to ask yet another question.

'Sherlock, are you gay?' John asked, 'I mean, it's ok if you are, but you never talk about girls or anything like that.'

'I don't believe in these 'labels' John,' Sherlock retorted, a little annoyed at all slightly awkward questions being put to him by John.

'Oh,' John said, and they carried on, each boy wondering about the other.


They completed the lesson in quiet with John occasionally pointing out the flaws in Sherlock's arm movements and Sherlock told him that he'd do what he liked as long as he wasn't drowning.

When the time came for them to get changed, Sherlock marched up to his brother, feeling his stomach swell with pride when he realized that despite the period of slightly awkward silence earlier, John was following.

'Why hello Sherlock, what a surprise,' Mycroft said, sending Sherlock one of his emotionless smiles, 'I see your swimming has improved tremendously!'

'Can it Mycroft, I know you're really here to spy on me,' Sherlock said, folding his arms and looking at John to see if he was doing the same. Much to his frustration, John just seemed to be sending a disappointed look in Sherlock's direction.

'Hello Mycroft, I'm John, Sherlock's best friend,' John smiled while holding out a wet hand to shake. Mycroft took it.

'Ah yes, John, Sherlock's told us all about you,' Mycroft told the boy, causing Sherlock's ears and face to turn a little pink and his hands raise in protest, 'He does seem very fond of you.'

'I'm very fond of him too,' John remarked, looking up at Sherlock with a smile, stopping all of the taller boys previous arm waving.

Sherlock swore he could've melted on the spot.

'Well, it seems I must leave now,' Mycroft uttered, looking at his watch, 'You're getting what you wanted Sherlock,' Sherlock knew this was just a little bit of sibling jealousy seeping into the conversation and so happily ignored the jab, 'It was nice meeting you John, you must come by the house sometime.'

'Oh, yes, that would be good,' John said, looking to Sherlock for permission.

'Yes...you must,' Sherlock responded, his stomach bubbling in anticipation and for once thankful for his older brother. Mycroft has obviously noticed Sherlock's little 'crush' (if it could be called that) straight away. He always had a knack for match-making.

'Right, well now that that's settled, I'll leave you two to get changed. Goodbye!'

Mycroft walked back through the visitors entrance and Sherlock could feel the smugness radiating from his body. The pair of teenagers walked into the changing rooms to find it entirely deserted.

'God damn it, Greg was meant to wait for me,' John muttered, sparking a tiny flame of jealousy in Sherlock: why was Greg given the privilege of spending extra time with John?

'It's no bother, I can take you home,' Sherlock offered.

John's face brightened up and he agreed.

Once they had retrieved their towels, they hit the showers. While rinsing his hair, Sherlock heard a noise. It started off very quiet, and then slowly grew in volume, from a humming sound to the murmuring of words. John was singing in the shower?

'That's a nice song John,' Sherlock said, pressing his hand against the wall separating the two boys. John made a squealing noise, and then recovered.

'Jesus Sherlock, I forgot you were there! You're so quiet,' John trailed off and Sherlock could almost imagine him shaking his head as he tried to regain his composure, 'And yeah, it was a song I heard earlier on the radio. I can't seem to get it out of my head.'

Sherlock smiled. John was an interesting person and yet he still participated in listening to mainstream radio with the masses.

'It was good,' Sherlock said, removing his hand from the barrier and resuming his hair washing, 'You can sing more if you like.'

There was silence for a few moments and then John began to sing again, quietly at first but then crescendoing as he realized Sherlock wasn't going to laugh at him.

'Written in graffiti on a bridge in a park

'Do you ever get the feeling that you're missing the mark?'

It's so cold, it's so cold

It's so cold, it's so cold'

Sherlock really listened to John's voice. It wasn't as deep as his was (minus the occasional embarrassing squeaks that Sherlock seemed to produce at the most annoying of ocassions) and yet he managed to hit all the notes well. He didn't have a singing star voice, but it still made Sherlock feel like he was listening to something far more dirty than a mere pop song.

'Written up in marker on a factory sign

'I struggle with the feeling that my life isn't mine'

It's so cold, it's so cold

It's so cold, it's so cold

See the arrow that they shot, trying to tear us apart

Took the fire from my belly and the beat from my heart

Still I won't let go

Still I won't let go

You

Ooohooh

'Cause you do

Oh you, use your heart as a weapon

And it hurts like heaven'

John stopped after this and Sherlock could hear him trying to regain his breath.

'I don't know the second verse,' John admitted and the sound of the shower halted. It was only then that Sherlock remembered they were in a public shower in a swimming pool and that other people would be in there soon.

He turned the lever for the shower and left, almost knocking into the wet body of John on the way out. Both of them were slightly red in the face and they walked to the changing area together in silence.

Sherlock emptied his locker and dumped his clothes on the bench, with John doing the same, just as they had been doing for the past two weeks.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock watched John change, his eyes on the towel low on his hips, scaling up the masterpiece that was John's chest to his face. His lips were set in a hard line as he tried to place each button through it's hole with slightly slippery hands.

Sherlock didn't know why, but he decided at that moment, that stupid perfect ridiculous catastrophe of a moment to lean down.

'John,' he whispered, his face level with his friends.

John look up and his face softened slightly, all previous signs of frustration gone.

'Yeah,' he said, a finger still fiddling with the button.

Sherlock took the chance. He leaned it and pressed his lips against John's own. His eyes closed of their own accord, just enjoying having this moist mouth pressed against his. It was as if everything he had ever felt towards John made sense: all these tiny, insignificant moments, all the time spent together, the feeling he always got whenever the other was near, it all made sense. After a moment, he opened his eyes.

John pulled away, eyes wide and face flushed in shame.

Shit, thought Sherlock.

'John, I-,' Sherlock said, but when he couldn't think of a way to finish the sentence, he just watched in horror as the other boy swiftly pulled on his trousers and shoved his feet into his shoes without even bothering to put on socks.

As John was just slinging his bag over his shoulder, buttons haphazardly fastened into place, Sherlock shouted at him, needing to see his face.

'JOHN.'

The blonde boy turned, a look of distraught on his face.

'What?' he asked, a little harshly.

'...Do you still want a lift?' Sherlock asked weakly, already knowing the answer but wanting to ask for lack of a better thing to say. He had to try to hold on.

'No,' John said, a little more kindly, 'I...I'll walk, ok? I need to think...see you soon.'

He turned and with a small wave of his hand, John was gone.

'Well,' Sherlock said, laughing bitterly to himself as he slumped against the nearby wall, 'I'm an idiot.'

Sherlock wasn't bitter because he had lost his only friend.

He wasn't bitter because he would probably never find anyone like John again.

He was bitter because John let him think for a moment that maybe he had done the right thing.

Because for that one moment, just before they pulled away, Sherlock was sure that John had kissed back.

A/N: Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger! And sorry for the slow update: all that's in my head at the moment is fitness and GCSEs. Sorry! Brownie points to whoever can guess the song that John is singing!

Thanks for reading :)