Meds
How it mattered to us, how it mattered to me
And the consequences
I was confused by the birds and the bees
Forgetting if I meant it
Of all the reactions Sherlock had been expecting from John, amazement was definitely not one of them. He had expected anger and offense over his words, perhaps a right hook to the face and a bloody nose, but not amazement. He had found himself drawn in by John after that, noticing how he looked so normal when he laughed and let it crinkle the sides of his eyes and mouth with the noise, but at the same time how almost stiff it was; like his facial muscles weren't quiet used to the movement. He wondered how long it had been since somebody had been able to make John laugh freely like that.
These thoughts were a welcome break from the melancholy of his brain slowly tearing itself apart. So he had laughed with John, shook his hand and introduced himself to the older teenager and spent the rest of the morning talking quietly. He noticed the way John looked at him, the slight crinkle of concern in his eyes whenever the shoulder of his t-shirt slipped from his protruding shoulder, exposing a long line of white collarbone and sternum. Or how his lips quirked upwards when Sherlock lost himself slightly in a rant about the staff, and he let his hands move animatedly in response to his words. Most of all Sherlock noticed how enraptured John was by his deductions.
It was a strange feeling, to have someone other than his brother pay attention to his biting words and relentless truths about people. Sherlock enjoyed having someone he was able to be open around without facing the mirth and scorn that usually came with them. It was easy to fall in to the gentle flow of conversation.
For a moment they both seemed to forget that they were roommates in a locked psychiatric ward, until the door opened and an orderly stepped in announcing it was time to move down to the cafeteria for lunch. Sherlock was aware of the sudden dawn on realisation on John's face, the way it almost closed off with the orderlies entrance as he swallowed and nodded in response, standing up to step away from Sherlock almost self-consciously.
'I would ask if you could warn me about what I am about to walk in to, but I have a feeling you don't often go down to the cafeteria.' John nervously pointed towards the tube. Sherlock raised a hand to touch it, suddenly the one feeling self-conscious. 'Sorry.' John muttered eyes averted from him.
'No it's fine.' Sherlock stood up and walked towards the machine, if only just to have something to do with himself other than focus on how awkward it had suddenly become. He expertly unattached the tube and stepped away, relishing the freedom from the pole. He would deal with the backlash later. 'I often go down, regardless.' He moved towards the door and John followed him. 'The cafeteria is mixed in with the adult patients; it's also where the courtyard is. Some of the older patients allow me a cigarette. There's one man, he trades me cigarettes for my meals.'
John laughed behind him as they made their way towards a locked door that led to a staircase. 'It's a good deal.' Sherlock said. John was sticking close to him, suddenly looking very nervous as he cast his eyes around. He realised this was the first time John had been out of the shared room, they were surrounded by a motley crew of boys and girls their age as they all milled around to head up to the cafeteria. It was easy to tell from John's stance that he was uncomfortable, obvious he felt very much out of place. It was radiating off him in waves, in the form of tight eyes and stiff shoulders. His fists were clenched and his right hand was quivering with an intermittent tremor.
Out of character Sherlock stepped closer to him. 'The boy with the very blonde hair and nose ring, he's well known here. He comes in frequently after forgetting to take his medication and suffering a psychotic break. He has very obvious feeling for one of the female patients, the pale one with auburn hair in a bun and meticulous makeup.' Sherlock was leaning in close to John, to whisper and he could smell sandalwood and the off tang of stomach bile. 'What he doesn't know though is she prefers women, and has been sneaking in to another room late at night for a little fun between checks.'
With a click the doors opened and everyone filed through, ascending the stairs. Sherlock was almost too exhausted to keep lifting his heavy feet up every stair, but the craving for nicotine kept his shaking limbs going as John stumbled up beside him. He looked over at his roommate, a bit alarmed at how he was panting and the drops of sweat that beaded on his smooth forehead. 'Are you okay?' He found himself asking before he could think, placing a cold hand on John's tense elbow, stopping him. The others just pushed by them, to intent on getting to lunch to care.
'Yeah, yeah just a little tired I guess. Haven't been up and about for a while.' John panted beside him, Sherlock watched him absently reach a hand up to his left shoulder and rub. Lifting his own hand he wrapped two bony fingers around John's wrist and felt his pulse, it was racing and irregular.
Letting the arm drop he stood back, sighing. 'We could have taken the elevator; I didn't know your heart had been damaged.' Sherlock said, looking down.
'Nah, its fine.' John shook off his concern and started up the stairs again, slowly. Sherlock watched him for a moment, rolling his eyes and following him up. The noise hit before the smell and he almost recoiled against the onslaught of sensory overload. John looked back at him as he faltered at the door, hand against the wall for support as he adjusted to the noise. 'Alright?' He asked.
He simply nodded.
As soon as they were over the threshold Sherlock's stomach rolled, he headed for the trolley with John at his heel and removed his tray before turning to look around for Jason. Finding him sitting in his usual place at the back of the room he walked towards the overweight elderly man, placed his carbohydrate heavy tray down on the table and waited to accept the four cigarettes he was always greeted with. Accepting the trade without a word and a tight smile he turned and stalked off, John stood by the food trolley looking lost as he held his own tray before spotting Sherlock and heading over.
Sherlock walked over to the long wooden benches that stored the coffee and tea and poured a cup of black coffee while he waited for John to catch up and pour himself a cup before they silently made their way to a table outside.
'Do you get hungry?' John asked as Sherlock reached under the table for his hidden lighter before lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. In surprise he looked up at John, who was slowly starting in on his simple meal of custard and a sandwich, which he didn't look to enthusiastic about.
'Not really, it's just transport after all. I have complete control over it.' John snorted. Sherlock looked up at him in amusement, an eyebrow raised.
'Sorry I didn't mean to be rude it's just- you make yourself sound like a robot or something.' This time Sherlock snorted.
'You could say that.' Sherlock laughed, pulling on the cigarette. He looked behind John and tensed up automatically as he saw who was walking towards them.
'Did the skeleton make a friend?' John jumped at the loud words as Anderson stepped up beside the table and leaned down towards Sherlock with a sadistic sneer. He didn't even look at John as he reached over and took the lit cigarette from Sherlock's hand and put it in his own mouth.
Leaning back with a resigned sigh Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'What do you want Anderson, come to dazzle my mind with your lack of brain cells again?' The older boy tensed up, leaning his face closer to Sherlock's and sneering. John was staring blankly at them both, sandwich forgotten in his hand as his eyes darted between them both in clear confusion at what was happening.
Anderson leaned in closer, mouth pausing by Sherlock's ear as he whispered; 'looks like our little late night mingles will have to change locations. Don't think a body guard changes anything, we all know it's all your good for. After all, why would you be here?' Anderson stepped back and walked away as Sherlock clutched white knuckled at the table and John wrinkled his nose at him in question.
'Everything okay?' John had put his sandwich down.
'It's fine.' Sherlock lit another smoke and looked away.
I hope everything is liking it so far :) let me know in the comments below or leave me kudos to prompt updates. I have a few chapters ready if I stop picking at them. I'm not following canon typical character traits, so I hope you don't mind bullying Anderson! Also quick question for any Brits reading this! Do you call it high school or is it College? And its University for after that yeah? Forgive an Aussie haha.
