[Pros] and [Cons]
of Breathing
Chapter Four: Light Grenades
Mycroft & [Gregory]
John's plan might have backfired, but Greg was still excited about his own date. It couldn't possibly be any worse than John's, mostly because Mycroft wasn't as bad as his brother. He didn't dress too nicely and he didn't dress in rags. He felt confident when he left the room and by the time he reached the front of building, the feeling was gone. Who was he kidding? This was a terrible idea. Why did he let them talk him into this?
"Afternoon, Gregory." Harry smiled at him.
"Hey," Greg answered nervously. "Where's Mycroft?"
"He'll be about in a moment," Harry assured him. Was Harry joining them? Of course he was, it wasn't a date. Not a date. "Just finishing up some paperwork."
"Ah. Well, I, what should I be doing?" Greg asked carefully.
"Don't worry yourself so much, Gregory," Harry promised. "It's not too hard. We're just examining the grounds for renovations. Everything needs to be kept in prime condition for the money we're being paid."
"You're- coming along then?" Greg knew it wasn't a date, but he was a little disappointed. How was he supposed to get to know Mycroft with his best friend around?
"Another pair of eyes couldn't hurt," Harry answered with a rather flirtatious smile.
"Course." He smiled back. Henry was right, he should make friends with Harry. It wouldn't do either of them any good to be unfriendly, at least, it wouldn't do Greg any good. "Have you known Mycroft long?"
"Since junior school," Harry assured him. "Though really, he's been bumped up so many grades, I'm surprised he didn't graduate when he was ten."
"If we could." Mycroft stepped between them easily. "I'd like to finish up before half ten." A few taps on his tablet brought up his pre-made listing. He started off and Greg followed swiftly. It was fairly easy to figure out what he was supposed to be doing, though Mycroft was much better at it and ultimately left him and Harry without much to do.
"The window up there needs a new frame," Harry noted, though Mycroft had noticed it just moments sooner. Greg couldn't bring himself to chat with either of them for fear of distracting Mycroft. The night was cool and enjoyable for a walk at least.
"Watch it!" Harry grabbed Mycroft by the back of his jacket suddenly, yanking him out of the way of the oncoming dog. Instinctually, Greg grabbed the mighty beast by its collar before it lunged at Mycroft, stopping it short and catching the creature's attention.
"As much as that's appreciated, Harry, please let me go," Mycroft scoffed, pulling free and brushing the wrinkles out of his outercoat. Greg let the dog go and it nuzzled his leg happily. It was huge, but adorable. He scratched it behind the ears and it barked.
"You're a biggie, aren't you? Should get you back home." Greg chuckled, rubbing its neck and shoulders gladly.
"Must be Mr. Starks' dog," Harry murmured, patting the creature softly on its massive head.
"Pets aren't allowed here, though, are they?" Greg questioned curiously. He wasn't arguing, of course, he loved animals, but it seemed a little irresponsible to just let them run about. Mycroft wasn't as interested in touching it, though to Greg's surprise, he wasn't disgusted by it at all.
"They're not, usually. Mr. Starks had some misunderstanding, it seems, and his canine ended up here instead of where he was supposed to be." Mycroft frowned in a put off fashion. "It got out before he could deal with it. Bring it along, would you?" He motioned to its collar again, but when Greg reached for it, the dog took off. It disappeared around the corner leisurely and without a care. Greg swiftly followed it with Harry and Mycroft close behind. The dog clearly knew where it wanted to go however and that just happened to be directly to Moran.
"Sebastian? What are you doing?" Greg stalled to a halt, watching his teammate unintentional guard the massive dog that had squeezed between him and the wall. Moran coughed into his hand, not so discreetly hiding the smoke that came out.
"Nothin'," he said gruffly. "Just needed some time away from Mr. and Mr. Know-it-all."
"Moran, my I see your hand please?" Mycroft instructed, holding out his own to accept Moran's balled up fist. Moran didn't move.
"That'd be a loaded question Holmes," he answered.
"No, but I applaud your attempt," Mycroft humored him. "As much as you refuse to incriminate yourself, it's not exactly well hidden is it? This is your last warning, Mr. Moran; Stop smoking on school grounds. You can take this dog back to Mr. Starks in the morning, as well. It seems to like you."
"Course Holmes. Anything you say." Moran saluted him sarcastically, pocketing his fist and starting in the opposite direction than they were heading. "Prikhodite." He patted his leg with his free hand and the dog followed him quietly. Greg held back an amused noise. Of course Moran was good with animals, it was rather ironic.
"That solves one problem," Harry mused. "You think he'll stop this time?"
"No," Mycroft answered blandly. Greg wasn't sure there was anything that could stop Moran from having a fag.
"Perhaps we should change their rooms again. Put some distance between your brother and them?"
"I doubt the results will be any different from last time." Mycroft sighed, tapping away on his little device. He tucked it under his arm patiently, glancing to the darken sky. He seemed to be staring at something, but Greg wasn't entirely sure what it was. He was probably naming the stars, or calculating his exact coordinate or something entirely and utterly brilliant.
"How on earth do the street lamps keep going out?" Or he was looking at the broken lamp. Greg couldn't help but chuckle and it earned him a curious look from both of them.
"I don't see anything funny about that."
"No, I just- I figured you'd be thinking something brilliant like the sound of an orchestra, or the names of constellations or something," he admitted lightheartedly. Harry offered a small laugh behind his hand.
"Lyra," Mycroft answered plainly. "Made of M56, M57, Vega, Sheliak, Sulafat, Aladfar, and Alathfar. Sagittarius made of M75, M55, M54, M70, M69, M17." His eyes remained firmly on the dark sky, pale orbs following the distant dots with mesmerizing ease.
"What are you doing?" Greg asked rather stupidly.
"Naming the stars," Harry murmured, turning his eyes to the sky in a similar fashion. Greg wasn't sure if he could actually see what Mycroft was pointing out, or even if Mycroft could see what he was naming, but it didn't seem to matter much. He just continued to list off names and numbers in a consistent tone that could lull Greg to sleep with ease. He was sure Mycroft could go on all night, there were certainly enough stars.
"That's brilliant," Greg breathed. Mycroft looked to him, pale green eyes as indifferent as they always were.
"Remembering a system of stars is not brilliant."
"Not that. Bleedin' hell, you."
Sherlock & [Sebastian] & Jim
"I didn't know you had a brother," Jim teased. Sebastian wasn't sure what he expected when he brought the dog back to the dorm, but it was along the lines of that. The dog sniffed around curiously. Sherlock made of a show of avoiding it, hurriedly climbing onto his bed and out of reach of the sniffling nose.
"It's Gladstone. Starks' dog," Sebastian explained, turning the desk chair around to seat himself in. He was tempted to try and finish his smoke that Holmes had so kindly interrupted, but he was running low on cigarettes and it would be nothing but a pain to have to go out and get them before the weekend. Gladstone placed his paws on the edge of Sherlock's bed noisily sniffing at the occupant.
"Get it away, Sebastian," Sherlock whined in a surprisingly Jim voice, right down to the Irish accent. Jim faltered in his voice constantly and willingly, but Sherlock, while he was capable of, did not. The only reason he would mimic Jim would be to get Sebastian to do something immediately and it worked. He grabbed Gladstone by the collar and pulled him away from Sherlock roughly. He couldn't help it, even though Sebastian knew Sherlock wasn't Jim.
"Are you afraid of dogs, Sherlock?" He couldn't possibly be. After all the time they'd known each other, something like that was bound to come up even if it was only because Jim was teasing him about it. Besides, didn't Sherlock have a family dog at one point?
"Of course not." Sherlock scoffed. "Animals have a tendency not to like me. Plus, it's filthy and drooling."
"Oh! That's the mutt the reward is being offered for, isn't it?" Jim prodded up suddenly. "We have to take him back tomorrow. We need the extra for our plan." Our? Sebastian really didn't want to ask, as he usually didn't, but anything that required money was doubly bad.
"Our?"
"Watson, of course." Bleedin' hell. "Anderson will undoubtedly tell his little friend, who will tell Watson in an attempt to get him to give Sherlock to Anderson, but Watson will refuse because the idea of Sherlock doing anything sexual with anyone is too tempting. Sherlock is quite attractive, after all, and if Watson really is at least bisexual, he'll naturally feel jealous and want to keep Sherlock to himself."
"And you need money why?" Sebastian was sure Jim was leaving something out.
"Lingerie," Jim answered simply. This was going worse than he thought.
"You're going to put Sherlock in lingerie."
"You follow! Oh good."
"No," Sebastian deadpanned.
"No one was really asking you," Jim assured him with an amused giggle.
"No," Sebastian repeated. "Not going to happen. Not going to happen at all. Don't even think that it will. Sherlock, I know Jim talks you into a lot of stuff, but this is just- no."
"I am aware, thank you Sebastian, but it was my idea."
"You're idea- Sherlock, no offence, but that hardly seems like your idea."
"Provocativeness has been proven to be a perfectly viable strategy especially in concerns of men. The point of this experiment is to test Watson's reactions to the unusual, or what he deems to be unusual, if you had forgotten," Sherlock reminded him pointedly and unemotionally. Of course Sebastian hadn't forgotten. How could he have bloody forgotten? He had to take a moment to gather his senses, knowing it was pointless for him to get upset. Over time, he stopped getting upset more and more, but sometimes he just couldn't help were going to take this too far. Sebastian pressed his hand over his forehead and through his hair.
"Whatever." He shook his head. "When you push Watson too far, it's going to be on you two. Let's hope one of you actually learns a lesson this time."
"And when we do, you'll be there to intervene," Jim hummed. "Just like you always are and always will be."
"And what if I'm not?" Sebastian demanded. Jim stared at him with sudden distaste, a looking not completely unfamiliar but never any less frightening.
"Then you better be dead," Sherlock finished in Jim's voice. Surprisingly, it didn't make it any better. In fact, it was worse. It was worse because Sebastian knew it was true, Jim knew it was true, and Sherlock knew it was true. He wasn't sure where he'd taken a wrong turn. Sebastian wasn't even sure if he wanted to turn back. He was going to assume that was bad.
"I'm definitely on board with the purple now." Jim said suddenly. "You're a purple."
Martin & [Henry]
Henry, in general, tried to keep his head up even in the worst situations. Martin helped. Martin definitely helped. In fact, he couldn't think of a time he was happier than after somehow being in contact with his neurotic, accident prone, self-conscious, awkward boyfriend. Despite being all of those things, Martin always knew how to make him feel better. It was curious and wonderful. That was one thing Henry would never wonder 'why' about. He didn't care why, he just loved that it happened.
Sometimes, however, he couldn't keep his spirits high. Sometimes, he realized just how pitiful he was. There weren't supposed to be animals at the school, there weren't supposed to be dogs at the school, so why was there a massive, furry beast headed straight for him? Henry could only think of panic and fear and death.
"Henry?"
He didn't mean to, but Henry knew he had screamed. It was going to kill him just like his father! That's what they did! They killed things and Henry was a thing! His back hit a locker way too quickly and he quickly discovered he had nowhere to go.
"Henry!"
"Oh my god. He's afraid of Gladstone. That is hilarious."
"It's not funny, Moriarty!"
"No, it's more than funny. That's sort of what hilarious means."
"I think you should hurry and take him to Mr. Starks, Sebastian."
"Mph. Yeah."
He was cornered and stunned and it was going to get him! Henry lost touch with the rest of the world and even after the dog had been taken away, he remained huddled in the corner of the lockers and wall with his knees pressed into his chest. He could only stare blindly at the linoleum flooring, thinking of the foggy forest where his father had violently died. There was- there had just been so much blood.
"Henry? Henry listen to me."
And it just stared at him with those red eyes! It had attacked his father for no reason and it would do the same to him!
"Henry! Deep breaths!" Martin? Henry forced himself to suck in a lungful of air, nearly choking on it in his hyperventilation. "It's okay. It's okay, Henry. Shh sh sh."
"Martin?" he asked quietly, trying to level himself again.
"Yes. Deep breaths, come on. Slowly, just like you always tell me." Henry nodded quickly and repeatedly, assuring himself that Martin was right and Martin wouldn't lie to him even if he was good at lying. "It's gone now Henry. You're okay. Everything's okay now."
"Yes. Yes. Yeah. It's- everything- I'm fine," he agreed, daring to glance around in search for the creature. He hadn't imagined it, had he? It would have been worse if he imagined it. There was no dog, but a group of concerned students were watching him at a distance. Henry focused a little more, glancing up to the phone being held to his face and, surprisingly, Holmes holding it.
"John's going to help you to the nurse's office. The dog's gone, Henry. It's okay. Take your anxiety medication and everything will be okay."
"Yeah." Henry quietly breathed back, closing his eyes and slowly pushing himself up. Holmes handed him the mobile, clearly not too worried about parting with it. Henry would thank him later. John took him by the arm and gently escorted him down the hall.
John & [Sherlock]
"Thank you Martin. I'll call you back later, okay? I love you." Knight, once again the nervous wreck he had been upon arriving at the school, quietly hung up the phone and handed it back to its owner. Sherlock accepted it and pocketed it. He had only helped to impress John, but no one had needed to know that. There was a few moments of silence between the three of them before Knight straightened himself out. He was pretending to be okay, Sherlock could tell, but as soon as his medication kicked in, Henry would be fine, so he didn't say anything.
"Thank you for that." Knight nodded at him. "How did you- know Martin's mobile number?"
"A couple months ago we were sitting next to each other and he called. Your phone was sticking out of your pocket a little," Sherlock explained before realizing he probably shouldn't have. He should have lied. People didn't like him noticing things.
"You remember that?" Knight murmured curiously.
"You saw that?" John asked in overlap.
"Of course." Sherlock tried not to scoff, but it was hard. He wasn't stupid.
"That's brilliant." He must have heard wrong. No, Sherlock knew he hadn't, but it was so weird. People never said that. People never said anything near that. He didn't know how to respond, but he was sure the proper response wasn't to stare like an idiot. John didn't seem to mind, if not only because he was staring back. Sherlock found himself in a weird moment of tension that had never, in all of his memory, happened to him before.
"You'll miss class," Knight murmured helpfully. John looked away and Sherlock hurriedly gathered his thoughts. Weird.
"You're okay then?" John asked as caring as he always was. Knight simply nodded.
"I'll be fine," he assured them. John nodded and with a small motion of his head, instructed Sherlock to lead the way out. Once they were in the hall and out of earshot, John spoke to him again.
"Really though, Sherlock. Thank you for that. Henry's mentioned he was afraid of dogs before, but I never thought it was that bad," he admitted. "I don't think anyone would have known what to do if you hadn't called Martin."
"It wasn't hard to figure out," Sherlock insisted, unsure of how to answer. He was sure he was being complimented, which was good. He was making ground with John, but he didn't think it would happen due to a friend. It was a note worthy of making. However, Sherlock hadn't been expecting it at all and therefore, wasn't prepared.
"Either you don't give yourself enough credit, or you give other people too much." John chuckled. Neither. Sherlock did neither of those things. Was John actually flirting with him? He stopped in the middle of the hall and Sherlock mimicked him.
"I'm sorry about before, Sherlock." This was definitely going better than he expected. "You made me nervous, is all."
"It's okay," Sherlock answered in a rather dead tone, a warning that he wasn't prepared for this at all. John stupidly didn't notice. "I seem to make a lot of people nervous."
"I've noticed." John answered with a small smile. What exactly was Sherlock supposed to say to that? There wasn't anything logical to answer with and it ended with more staring. This- was problematic. John's tongue peeked out from between his lips. He was going to try to kiss him. Was it really that easy to make people change their minds? John had just done a complete personality one-eighty. Prepared or not, Sherlock couldn't exactly refuse. It would confuse John and put his experiment at risk. It couldn't possibly be that bad. Sherlock had kissed Jim lots of times and it was never terrible, even the two occasions where he had kissed Sebastian hadn't been horrible experiences. Experiences he'd rather not repeat, but not horrible. He'd just grate his teeth and wait for it to be over. Noting, of course, not to actually grate his teeth.
It didn't happen as suddenly as most of Sherlock's kissing experiences had gone. John was slow with it, clearly making sure it was okay first. It was and Sherlock discovered their height difference made things a little more challenging when standing. A challenge that John aced instantly by grabbing Sherlock's collar and pulling him down. It wasn't unpleasurable, but like the rest, Sherlock could have done without it. John's tongue was wet and warm and it didn't belong in his mouth no matter how nice he was about it. Sherlock responded about as well as he knew how.
Apparently, he was better than he thought he was. Then again, Sherlock didn't think much about it. After two minutes and thirteen seconds of painfully slow snogging, John let him go. He seemed a little startled, though Sherlock couldn't be sure about what. It was likely because he was still dating the Sawyer girl, or perhaps that he was still intent on being straight, or-
"Wow you're good at that."
"Thank you?"
"Sorry. I just- wow." Was it possibly he could be won over by a kiss? It did seem Jim could do an awful lot with only a kiss. Sherlock realized that must have been why John was so impressed. Sherlock had learned how to kiss from Jim. Unfortunately, it didn't appear John was going to be won over so easily. That would have been awfully boring.
"I don't know why I just did that," John admitted a little quieter. "That was just because you helped Henry," he said suddenly and overly vicious. Sherlock blinked. There were definitely signs of fear here.
"Don't get any ideas," John growled before taking off for his class. Sherlock counted it as progress. John was swaying, his defense of it had no change on the fact he had done it. This was turning out to be rather interesting. John was an interesting subject.
[Jim]
Sherlock was executing their plan well. Watson would fall in love with him and Sherlock would ultimately break his heart. However, as these things usually went, Sherlock would likely fall in love with the fool before the end of it. It was predictable and boring. Watson would likely find out and they would fight, but it wouldn't end. Sherlock wouldn't apologise, Sherlock simply didn't, no, Watson would. Real life didn't work like that, but sociopaths could bend the world around them. Jim was brilliant at it. Sherlock wasn't predictable, though. At least, Jim didn't think he was. Sherlock was a master at the normal. He could fake his way through everything and no one would be the wiser. He'd managed to fool Jim a few times. It was fun.
If Sherlock didn't fall in love, he would pretend because Watson would, undoubtedly, fall in love. People always fell in love with Sherlock at a distance. When he started to understand what Sherlock really was, he'd only fall deeper. Watson was simply that kind of person. So Sherlock, whether he loved Watson or not, would accept him, because Sherlock wasn't stupid. The longer they stayed together, the more damage Watson did to himself until Sherlock would no longer let him leave.
Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. The stupid were bound to get something right eventually and they were more right than they would ever know. Sebastian was terrifying, but he was generally harmless. He liked having friends and he didn't like seeing them get hurt, but he wouldn't generally stop it unless it directly pertained to him. He was vengeful, too, both discretely and otherwise. He knew when to make a show and when to poison a glass; figuratively of course. He could roar like thunder, frightening everyone but hurting no one or he could strike like lightning, striking only a specific spot without a sound in the world.
Jim was tagged as Hades, though for the wrong reasons. He was just as dangerous and deadly as the others as well as being notoriously vengeful, but it wasn't without reason. Hades got the short end of the stick between his three brothers, making him vengeful and bitter. Jim could blame his parents and he wouldn't be wrong, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't give them credit for anything. He was a psychopath because he wanted to be, not because they managed to be neglectful and abusive. He was a force to be reckoned with, but like in the myths, Hades was only ever lonely. Jim wouldn't agree to that statement, but something like that.
Then there was Poseidon. Many stories told him to be indifferent and non side taking, but Jim knew those couldn't be right. He was ruler of the oceans and the ocean was a cold, dark place. It was cruel and unforgiving, but not vengeful at all. Anything that wasn't vengeful was simply wrong. When people drowned, they didn't blame the ocean. It was common knowledge that when dealing with the ocean, you might very well drown. Sherlock was like the ocean. He was indifferent to most things, he didn't take sides, and people didn't blame him when things went wrong; when people drowned in him.
Sherlock was just like the ocean. There were dark secrets hidden in his depths that would kill those who dare to search for them. There were storms that struck and dragged down everything in his way. He was far more frightening than Jim. It was stupid not to be afraid of him. Jim could understand it, though. When he and Sherlock had first met, he had made that mistake. Sherlock was so lithe and harmless looking. Jim had made the mistake of picking at open wounds and then made it worse by initiating physical violence. It wasn't a fight he'd soon forget. The thrill had been intoxicating. Sherlock's violence was calculated and swift. He wasn't like Jim at all, who would gladly drag out the game until nothing was left. No, Sherlock would push everything aside and go straight for the kill.
Jim shuddered just to think of it. That wasn't the worst part, though. Sherlock wouldn't even care. That was far worse than enjoying it, or hating it. Sherlock was simply indifferent. It would be fantastic to watch Watson try to deal with him. Would Watson ever manage to deserve Sherlock's destruction, though? Even Jim couldn't pull it out again, and there were times when he tried so hard. If he could, Jim was sure there would be no more Watson. He just wanted to see it, just once. He wanted to witness Sherlock completely annihilate someone. It would probably be like he played violin; beautiful.
"Jim?"
"What?" Jim snapped at the intruding voice. He pulled the blanket down from over his head to stare at Sebastian angrily.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a stupidly careful way.
"Fine," Jim growled back. "Just horny as fuck now. I'm leaving."
"Where?" Sebastian demanded, making it clear he wasn't going to move from in front of the door. It was too easy for Jim to shoo him away, however, for Sebastian to continue trying.
"Why? Are you going to fuck me, Sebby?" And sure enough, Sebastian flinched away from the door to let Jim leave. Stupid.
Gregory & [Harry]
Harry respected Mycroft and whatever lifestyle he choose to lead, but sometimes it was just hard to understand. Honestly, Gregory's arse in his rugby uniform was something anyone could appreciate. He made a mental note to watch their rugby team practice more often. They were kind enough to work even harder upon realizing he was watching. John Watson, currently the target of Mycroft's little brother's affections, was certainly living up to expectations. He was rather small compared to the others, save perhaps Dimmock, but it didn't change anything. To be honest, Harry was surprised anyone got up after being crushed by Moran, but Watson shook it off as if it were nothing. It was clear why he was captain, too, his strategy was brilliant.
He supposed part of it was the help of his teammates, but so much of it was under Watson's instruction. Maybe Sherlock simply had found himself a little crush. It would be good for him, especially considering Sherlock's record with relationships. It was a good thing Watson was a hardy fellow. When they finally finished up their little session and began to part ways, Harry motioned for Gregory to join him by the bleachers.
"Hey Harry." Gregory smiled at him as he trotted over, drying his head on a dark purple school towel.
"Hello," Harry answered pleasantly. "Lovely practice."
"Oh. Thanks." Gregory didn't seem to know what to do. It was likely because he wasn't sure if Harry was flirting with him or not. Of course, Harry didn't make it well known that he was quite the flirt. That wasn't something someone in his position needed to spread about.
"I came down to ask if you would be interested in joining Mycroft and me for a dinner this weekend. Nothing fancy, of course. We just like to go out every once in a while for a good meal. Anthea usually joins us, but she's decided to spend some time with her boyfriend," Harry explained. Anthea never came with them, but he didn't want Gregory to think he was intruding.
"Just the three of us?" Gregory asked with a slightly discouraged smile.
"I doubt Anthea would care to be a third wheel," Harry assured him. Gregory hesitated a moment, using his towel to shake his hair out. He was clearly trying to decide what was going on. Surely it wouldn't take him that long to figure it out.
"Sure," Gregory agreed finally, smiling with more confidence. "Where?"
"Ma's Chips. It's Mycroft's favorite."
"Oh. I know where that is. What time?" He seemed a little less apprehensive now. Harry patted him on his shoulder casually.
"Let's say Sunday around four?"
"Sounds good." Gregory smiled in earnest. He was quite handsome. If Mycroft didn't come around, Harry would.
"I'll see you then."
[Anthea] & her phone
[boyfriend] [1:12 am] You know, I can't eat cherries anymore without thinking about you. You're lucky I think about you all the time, anyways.
[me] [1:12 am] I doubt -all- the time.
[boyfriend] [1:13 am] I don't have to think about you when I'm talking to you.
[me] [1:13 am] Then you're being lazy.
[boyfriend] [1:15 am] Haha. You caught me. That was a lie. I think about you even then. Now.
[boyfriend] [1:16 am] Are you going to visit me this weekend? I hate that you go to school so far away.
[me] [1:17 am] Of course. I promised I would. I'm taking the tubes down Friday night. I made Mycroft grant me permission.
[boyfriend] [1:17 am] And you're staying all weekend?
[me] [1:17 am] Leaving Sunday night.
[boyfriend] [1:18 am] Brilliant.
[boyfriend] [1:18 am] I hope you haven't been taken care of by someone else.
[me] [1:18 am] Are you suggesting I'm fooling around with someone else?
[boyfriend] [1:19 am] I'm suggesting you're too pretty to be alone.
[me] [1:21 am] I forgive you for not realizing how that sounds.
[boyfriend] [1:21 am] God I love you.
[me] [1:22 am] Good. You can say that with your tongue on Friday.
[boyfriend] [1:22 am] Wouldn't have it any other way, love.
Sarah & [John]
The thing with Sherlock had been a fluke. That was it. He'd gotten a little confused with Henry and he did something he regretted. John would admit that and he felt bad about that, but that didn't mean it meant anything. He put it out of his mind, though. Sarah's roommate, Sally, was out with Anderson, and his chances of getting off with Sarah was in the green zone. However, as they sat on the edge of her bed in a vice-like grip, she pulled away. John quickly retracted his hand from under her shirt, worried he'd done something wrong and unwillingly to make her upset.
"Sorry John, I just-" Sarah sighed patiently. She straightened out her shirt and scooted away a little. John was disappointed. Whatever had just happened, his chances were currently twiddling down to 'zero'. "What you're doing to Sherlock isn't right, John."
"What I'm- Sarah. I'm not doing anything to him." In fact, he was pretty sure it was the other way around. He couldn't prove anything, but Sherlock had definitely talked him into this on purpose. "Why do you even care? He doesn't even know you're name," John insisted with sudden agitation. This was a mood ruiner.
"That doesn't make it right," Sarah scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. There went the last of his chance.
"I'm not doing anything to him," John assured her once again.
"I don't think we should see each other anymore, John." She turned away a little, seeming more disappointed than anything else. John sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. There wasn't much he could do about that, now was there?
"Okay," John said quietly, unwilling to have this fight at all. Perhaps he should have fought for it a little more, but he honestly wasn't too distressed to see it go. He needed to focus on other things right now, he argued with himself. He needed to pay more attention in class and rugby. Then he remembered that he didn't need an excuse for himself. "If that's what you want."
"This is what you want, John."
"No actually, I don't believe I've ever said that," John answered swiftly, turning his body away from her in a particularly nonaggressive manner.
"You didn't have to," Sarah snapped back. John couldn't believe he was actually having this conversation. It was so stupid. He waved her off.
"Fine. Whatever. I'm leaving," John promised and Sarah said nothing more. Once again, his girlfriend had broken up with him. John was never particularly broken up about them and this was no different. He had no reason to be upset. As he headed back to his own dorm he realized by the time morning came, the entire school would know. Which, they usually did, but this time, the entire school included Sherlock.
He wasn't sure if he was upset or thankful for that. Neither, John hurriedly decided. He was indifferent to Sherlock knowing anything about him and he was sticking to that.
