Author's note: I need to apologise for this chapter, as it is atrocious. But I promise you the next chapter is much better (I am almost finished), and full of fluffy goodness. Please feel free to hate me for this chapter D: But yeah. Here it is.
Disclaimer: Not mine.


Sherlock hadn't been at school for a whole two weeks, and frankly, John was beginning to feel concerned. Not because he needed Sherlock's brains to help him with the work in Biology, but because he was generally worried. He didn't know why, but something inside John was begging him to find out exactly why Sherlock had been absent for so long, especially after the first day back to school. What if something had happened to him? What if Roland and his friends had beaten him or something? They had before. So John made it his own business to ask Roland and the others if they had heard anything before he started to go insane.

As John made the twenty minute walk to Swatchton Grammar, he checked his Facebook account on his phone for the fifth time that morning. He had been religiously checking it each day since Sherlock had added him as a friend, hoping that the missing student would reply to at least one of his many apprehensive inbox messages. It was the very day after Sherlock had added John that he began messaging him. Noticing his disappearance, the inboxes started out as "Hey, where are you today?" and then slowly built up to "Sherlock, you've been away for a week now... Are you okay? Shall I bring you our Biology assignments?" Sherlock had ignored all twenty of John's messages, and he couldn't decide if it was Sherlock being his usual arrogant self or if something bad had happened to him.

John hit refresh on his phone and had to stop for a moment to make sure he had seen right. "Sherlock Holmes" was highlighted in bold with the symbol (1) next to it, showing clearly that John finally had a response. Adrenaline rushed through him as he anticipated Sherlock's reply and manoeuvred his phone's mouse so he could open it.

John.
I have been absent from school for the past few weeks because I have been in hospital. Don't bring me any homework.

SH

Hospital. Sherlock Holmes had been absent for two weeks of school because he was in hospital. What the bloody hell had he been doing there? If John had been worried before, he was officially beginning to freak out now. What was Sherlock doing in hospital? Was he okay? Did something happen to him? Did something happen to one of his family members? Was he still in hospital? When was he going to come back? John had a million and one questions for Sherlock, but he didn't want to sound like he cared too much. John wasn't even sure why he did care so much, considering he'd only known Sherlock for a single day...

He typed back:

Are you okay? When will you be back at school?

John hurriedly walked to school, beginning to power walk, conscious of the time. It was a particularly cold day and John regretted not wearing extra layers underneath his uniform, the January air biting at his skin. He began to wonder where Sherlock even was. Was he still in hospital, dressed in white scrubs and watching crap telly all day? Or was he at his home, tucked up in bed, doing whatever it is that Sherlock does when he's bored? All John really cared about was whether or not Sherlock was going to be okay. Again, he wasn't sure why exactly, but he cared all the same.

After John endured a two hour lesson of Biology, again without Sherlock, and a single lesson of History, it was time for morning break. Roland and the others had claimed their own spot for mealtimes at school in the common room of the West Building. John had absolutely no idea why they all seemed to like this particular location so much; he personally thought it was terrible. It was very close to the staff room and the window looked out at nothing but transportable buildings. The only good thing about it was that there was heating, a television and a coffee machine. At first when John had been shown this room, he could have sworn that he had been dreaming. It had expensive looking sofas, a fireplace, Persian rugs and just looked damn posh in general. In fact, John thought it looked something straight out of Harry Potter. Back at his old school in West Yorkshire, the students were to sit outside all year apart from during winter when they were allowed to sit in any open classrooms, which had no heating whatsoever and nothing but desks and chairs to sit on.

This morning, Roland and Molly were talking together quietly in the corner whilst Jakob, Jonathon, Lachlan and Sasha all sat on the sofa watching a show on gardening, drinking mugs of coffee and hot chocolate. John was standing by the window, watching the snow fall silently and spread an enormous white tablecloth over the school grounds. He still hadn't received a reply from Sherlock about whether or not he was returning to school yet and the anxiety was beginning to settle within him again. John watched as Roland and Molly began chuckling to each other, but there was something about it that was very unnerving.

He walked over. "Hey, guys, what's so funny?"

"Oh, hey John," Roland smiled. "Molly and I were just discussing the rumours spreading around about Holmes."

"Rumours?" John tried not to frown.

"Yeah," Molly confirmed. "He's been in hospital."

"Oh really?" John tried to sound surprised. "What for?"

Roland shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure. Some say his adopted mother has cancer, while others say he got bashed on his way home. I personally hope it's both; creepy little faggot."

"Don't you think that's a bit cruel, Roland?"

"Not at all. Besides, what do you care?"

'I, I don't," John murmured. "I just think that you're being a bit heartless. How would you feel if your mother had cancer? I know you don't like gays, Roland, but you never know; a gay just might beat you up for being straight one day."

Roland's mouth fell open. "I suppose you are right. But I still don't like him."

John just nodded and turned to leave. "I need to go see Miss Rinolds about my English work; I'll catch you guys later."

John boldly made his way to administration; planning to ask whoever he had to if they knew anything about Sherlock's whereabouts. He needed to speak to Sherlock urgently. He didn't care if it was going to be via phone or in person; John had to know if he was okay. What if his adopted mother really did have cancer? What if somebody really had beaten him up on his way home? John really didn't want to think about it anymore. The idea of Sherlock lying in a hospital bed covered in bruises and with broken bones was enough to make him feel physically ill and he shuddered slightly.

"Um, excuse me, but I was wondering if you knew anything about Sherlock Holmes," John politely asked the receptionist.

She smiled sadly at him. "I'm afraid it is a very private matter that only staff members are allowed to know about, sweetie.'

"Please, can you at least give me a number I can contact him on? He and I are partnered in a subject together and I really need his assistance with an assignment."

"I really don't think that's – "

"Please!" John insisted in a harsh whisper. "You know as well as I do that almost every single student at this school bullies him every single day. I am the only one who legitimately cares about his whereabouts."

The receptionist typed something into her computer and then wrote down a number. "Here is his landline number, but this didn't happen, okay?"

John thanked her gratefully and exited the building, taking his phone out of his pocket as he did so. He knew that making a personal phone call was against the school rules and that he would most likely have his phone confiscated, but honestly considered Sherlock's wellbeing to be a whole lot more important. It was becoming obvious to John that he felt something for the strange student that was Sherlock Holmes. He knew that for some strange reason John wanted to befriend him, but wasn't entirely sure why. Was it because he pitied the lonely or because John was attracted to him? He wasn't sure; perhaps it was both.

A woman answered the phone after John dialled the number. She sounded generally upset. "Hello, this is Mrs Hudson speaking."

"Oh, hello," John started to feel nervous. "I was wondering if Sherlock Holmes was available to talk?"

"Who is this?" Mrs Hudson asked cautiously. "If you're one of those bullies that give my Sherlock grief, I will contact the police!"

"My name is John Watson. I was assigned as Sherlock's Biology partner for this semester. Has he mentioned me at all?"

There was a brief pause. "He said that he couldn't figure you out."

"Oh, um, okay. Well, I was wondering if I could please talk to him. He's missed out on a lot of work these past few weeks and I was hoping to give him a brief outline of what he should be studying until he returns to school."

"Just a moment,"

John stood awkwardly behind a large tree, hoping that nobody would spot him. He couldn't be anymore thankful than he already was for being able to talk to Sherlock and he hoped that the bizarre student wouldn't be arrogant and ignore all of his questions. John then began to feel relieved as realisation came over him when he worked out that Mrs Hudson was obviously Sherlock's adopted mother that Roland had mentioned, and was thankful that she wasn't actually in hospital dying of cancer.

"What do you want, John?"

"Sherlock," John breathed, relieved to hear his voice. "Please tell me that you are okay."

"You lied to Mrs Hudson. You told her that you were going to discuss school work with me. I don't like it when people disrespect her." Sherlock said crossly.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just really need to know if you're okay."

"Fine,"

John had expected his bluntness. "When do you think you will be back at school? You actually have missed a lot of work."

"I don't know, John. I expect within another week. It depends on what Luke says. And don't worry about the work; I already know it all."

"Luke? Who's Luke? Is he your brother?" John asked nosily.

Sherlock sighed. "No, John. He is not my brother."

"Then who is he?"

"I have to go. I might talk to you on Facebook. Goodbye."

And then he hung up. Just like that, Sherlock Holmes hung up on him. John hadn't obtained any form of information that he had actually wanted, other than that Sherlock was okay. Whilst he was relieved that Sherlock was alright and at home instead of in hospital, John was pretty bloody annoyed at the other student's arrogance. He didn't think he could ever understand how anyone could be as rude as Sherlock Holmes was to everybody, and it seemed that the nicer you acted toward him, the ruder Sherlock was. This frustrated John to no end and decided that he would find out where Sherlock lived and pay him a surprise visit, no matter how much Sherlock whined or disapproved. Hell, if he threw a tantrum, John would even force him to sit on a chair in the corner if he had to. If Sherlock wasn't going to behave like an adult, then John would have to take that role.


At home that night, John sat on his bed silently, staring at his Facebook page. He had been waiting all day and evening for Sherlock to send him an inbox but no avail. Giving in, he clicked on the little speech bubble icon in the left hand corner of the screen and began typing out a small speech to Sherlock.

Sherlock,
I don't know why you behave the way you do, exactly. I don't know why you seem to think that you are so much better than everyone just because you are so intelligent and that you can always have exactly what you want. I have been nothing but kind to you since we met and you have quite literally been a complete and utter prick back. What exactly did I do to you that was so bad? Was it because I hang out with Roland? I know he bullies you, but not once have I ever joined in with this bullying. Everyone else seems to hate you, but I don't. As a matter of fact, I actually really want to be friends with you. You intrigue me and I admire your intellect. So to be frank, I would really like it if you stopped being an arrogant... Never mind. Just, I hope you're okay. Look forward to you returning to school.

With nervous fingers and butterflies roaming his stomach, John hit the send button and pushed his laptop away from him, absolutely terrified of Sherlock's reply if he were to actually receive one. He felt a little like a girl admitting to her crush that she liked him and was hoping that he liked her back, and to be honest, John thought that maybe he did quite fancy Sherlock. He was incredibly attractive, after all, and John had a feeling that underneath all of that condescension and childish behaviour was actually a very kind person. John smiled to himself as he thought of how cute Sherlock was with his little black ringlets of hair and those slate grey eyes. He had the most perfect mouth, his lips a pale shade of pink and chapped. Sherlock was also incredibly thin, but John suspected that he had quite a muscular torso.

Just as John started sliding his hand down his stomach, his laptop made the familiar popping noise that informed him he had a new message on his Facebook chat. Waiting a few moments to calm himself down, John then sat up and reached for his computer.

Sherlock Holmes 9:15pm

I appreciate your kindness. Thank you.

John smiled to himself and felt warmth spread through his heart. He was about to start typing a reply when a message notified him that Sherlock had gone offline, and so he decided that he would simply wait until he went to visit the other student on the weekend. He then shut down his laptop and lay back down against the pillows, moving his hand down his stomach like before. Sherlock Holmes really wasn't the haughty bastard that he put out to be, and John felt pleased with this fact. With the weekend on his mind, John turned his head into his pillow with a moan and then began to finish what he had started.