...
A few weeks passed by. Sherlock would come to school, have first period with Molly, then go straight to the bathroom where he'd meet John. After that, the rest of the morning and afternoon was just dull. Sherlock was always in the bathroom, sitting against the wall. He'd be there during lunch, during classes he just wanted to skip, any free time he had. Part of him wanted to see John more than just one class, but it was fictitious of him.
Though, second period was better than none.
"I have a question for you today." John came in with his homework sitting cross legged, scribbling as he wrote. Sherlock was hunched in the corner, head pointed upward. "No, I don't mean to offend everyone I meet."
John begins erasing something he miss wrote on his paper, "That wasn't what I was asking, and do you really do that?" Sherlock scanned his finger against the wall tile. "Yes, and what 'were' you going to ask?"
"Hm. I guess I just wanted to know who Billy is." John continues writing as Sherlock coughs loudly into the air, "Billy?! I haven't heard that name for four years now, who told you about Billy?" Cautiously, Sherlock took out another cigarette and anxiously lit it.
"Lets just say I know your arch nemesis, or enemy. He tried to bribe me, tried to hook me up to a wire of some sort but I said no. Now i'm just curious, who's Billy?" John forgot his work while talking, keeping an eye on Sherlock and dangerous objects like the lighter and sparks he may not see.
"Enemy? Arch enemy... Oh, Mycroft, my brother! Pity you said no, the money would have done good. Him and his high paying job, the sod. And no, Billy will be of no talking matter."
John laughs, then looks down again. "Let me guess, was he a bully?" Rubbing his hands in his curly locks, Sherlock shakes his slow, "He was in a way a bully, but for reality sake, lets say he wasn't." John looks at him squinting, then ignores his work altogether.
"A brother?" John guesses.
Again, no, Sherlock shakes his head. "Not a brother."
Silence. John thought for a few seconds, looking at the broken teen infront of him, at his blushing cheeks and sorrowful face. "So he was important to you, this Billy. Were you two together, I mean are you gay?"
If Lestrade thought about it, he came into conversations at the wrong time ALWAYS. This time being one of those. The bathroom door swings open and Sherlock immediately darts his head to his knees, but then ends up burning his leg on the cig, so he just pops his head up again.
"Jesus, John!" Greg cries, staring at the two boys. John scuffles up, "You told me not to interfere, but I had to, you know I had to."
Sherlock's head turns curiously to John at his statement. "Wait." Stumbling up, forgetting his cane, and nearly tripping over himself, Sherlock stands aggravated in the corner. Counselor Lestrade shoves his finger to John's chest, "I told you to give him time, now I didn't expect you to actually listen to me, but here? And you're asking personal questions! I'm pretty sure his therapist wouldn't like this."
Sherlock tries again to speak, this time John is the one cutting him off. "He's at high school, isn't he? That's what kids do anyway! I'm just not sure you like the fact that I have a friend." Sherlock closes his eyes while John talks, it helps him when trying to follow the person so he can scream in there face, "John fucking Watson you do not ever pretend like i'm not here! And since when did you think you were my friend? Is it because I can't be the one to push you out the door myself? I'm blind for fucks sake not deaf." Seeing as he had gripped John's arm during his expellations of... emotion... he let go.
And John takes a hint and leaves, each step, twelve of them, until the door slams closed. Greg stayed put, looking at Sherlock. "Look, I normally don't allow this behavior, but I see the situation is different."
"Because i'm disabled?" He turns around.
"You are not disabled, you are blind. And for the fact that I didn't want John confronting you because he has this infatuation." Greg still goes to a urinal, pissing as he pleases. "Not with me, though, what is it?" Sherlock went back to his usual of scanning the wall and found his walking stick. "Danger. I had a chat with his parents and they agree. The day of the accident police had to keep him from running into the fire to help... He loves it."
"And because I was involved, you think he's finally realizing this? Or am I just an accessory you need to keep hidden from him. Because that's nice, keep the blind kid from having any friends." Sherlock goes to the sink as Greg approaches and turns it on, squaring the older and taller man.
"Son, look. You two can hang out and tell secrets all you want, but as long as it's PG, and by that I mean no nonesense. No running out during school, doing drugs including your little smoker there, and no lollygagging. I mean it." Greg dries his hands and speaks stern.
"Oh, I see you mean it, but the question is if I will listen or not." Sherlock grows a mischevious smile.
...
"Hey come take a piss with me." John bumps incessantly into Sherlock who then grazes a girl's locker. "Fuck! I could have fallen you arse." John looks around casually as he talks, not used to the eyes Sherlock apparently has on him at all hours.
"Just come, it's the only place private, and quite frankly i'm feeling like skipping history. Did I mention I was sorry?" It became obvious Greg talked to John too, the Counselor in him becoming annoying.
"Sorry? Oh this better be worth something. Okay, I'll piss with you."
Walking into the same old bathrooms, Sherlock can't hide his little smirk. "What are you sorry about exactly?" John smiled too, he knew Sherlock was squeazing the words out of to say, "I apologize for asking about Billy, and making you feel like whatever it is you felt."
John dropped his bag and went to talk closer to the other, to reduce the echoes talking made.
"God you are such a girl, and I know you'd just ask about him again... So- Billy was just some dude who made me feel special for awhile. He uh, kind of humiliated me, forced me to do things I didn't want to, but he'd always be there. Then, one day, he ran off a curb, flipped his car and he was gone. That's who Billy is, but it's fine now." Another blue pill was produced, this time, instead of one, there was three.
John just watched him take it too, he was shell shocked. "You're gay. And you just took more of those not-so prescription pills. I'm not sure if I agree."
Sherlock shook his head, "Oh I think you are wrong on both accounts. I'm not gay, I don't like guys at all and I don't like girls much either. Also, you do agree with me taking pills because it excites you. What if I go into convulsions? What if I have a heartattack? What if I've already had five this morning, and i'm just holding them down with a few more? You are so wrong, John Watson."
Not backing up this time, John got closer. "No, you had a boyfriend, that makes you gay." Bewilderment. "I won't deny my affairs, but I truly hope you see that one mistake doesn't hold you down for the rest of your life. If you are counting people you've dated, then more girls have cornered me at parties than guys. Not gay."
"Well, alright, but you certaintly aren't asexual if that's what you're getting at." John mindlessly pats a hand in the center of Sherlock's chest and turns to walk off. Instead, Sherlock catches that hand and holds it.
If someone were to walk in, not Greg, well, Greg too, they'd see something strange. A lanky, taller teen boy with clouded eyes, auburn dark curly hair, one hand on his walking stick and the other on the other teen boy, who was shorter but firmer, tanner with dirty blond hair, who was working with the taller teen. That hand went immediately flush back to Sherlock's chest, a winded sigh coming from the shorter one's mouth. Like he ran a mile for him to do this.
"You're right, I'm not asexual. I make exceptions." Sherlock slowly loosens his hold to grab at more of John's hand, then arm, then shoulder. Wrinkling the fabric as he pushes his hand upwards, having John intake his breath and force him to suppress something inside of him. The fingers trace over skin of neck, then caress there.
"I also have a young girl named Molly who would have me right now. She's not my type, she's an enthusiast, and I hate a bubbly attitude. But she deserves someone. Say something right now and I will decline her offer." The sudden rush of words came straight from Sherlock pent up mind. He's saved it as long as he could, and now with Molly making her love for him harder ignore, and with John giving him the light of day, it was worth a shot. It was worth the added pain of rejection.
John's loud breath signals Sherlock to begin backing to the wall before John even begins moving. The familiar squeak of his sneakers sound until Sherlock's back is chilled by tile. In waves, John moves to hold or kiss, maybe just lay his head on Sherlock. And even though he can't see John, Sherlock plays too, chases the sound of ragged breath with his own lips and sticks his head out praying for purchase, praying John will finally answer him and stop playing.
Lulling their heads after one another, John's hand sneaks to weigh Sherlock's perfect and straight back to a hunch. And Sherlock doesn't complain when awkward lips come to kiss on his cheek, that hand bringing him down moving to the back of his neck, holding it, then fisting at the hair at his nape. John pulls back slightly, the sound of Sherlock's own ashy breath in his ear. "It wouldn't be.. Not right, Sherlock."
Thinking twice, Sherlock sees John's breath isn't ragged from the sexual tension, but from tears, one of them falling quite nicely on Sherlock's collar bone. He didn't want John to cry, anyone else he wouldn't care, not even Molly sadly, just not his friend. "Sorry." He apologizes.
They've never been this close, they've only shaken hands actually. The only conversations were the informal ones they'd gossip over in the said bathroom. Infact, they were barely acquaintances. It made no sense for John to make such an emotional leap.
But 'John' hated hearing Sherlock apologize more than Sherlock hated making him hurt. John's other hand goes with his other, and he runs his hands up through Sherlock's dark curls forcefully, gritting his teeth as he did it. Then, pulling Sherlock down as hard as he could, he made lip to tongue to lip to tongue contact.
Greg was right, of course, John loved danger and he saw Sherlock putting him in some imminently. It WAS going to happen, just like Sherlock's hip was going to flush with John's despite the fear of someone walking in. They had each other. Sherlock supplied the danger, and John fed off from that. They didn't need Greg to tell them that.
So, as the two boys leaned against the wall, exploring each other's mouth and roamed each other's bodies with curious hands, it was an unsaid agreement. They'd give the other what they needed. Rather it be a taste for danger, or the feel of sentimentality, they'd give it to them.
Author's Note: I'm notorious for never finishing a story, and I apologize for that but I try. I've been diagnosed with cancer recently, the same kind that killed my friend Gavin, and i'm just sort of typing real life events right now. Sort of my journal. I'm on tumblr, Multihappydayz, I beleive, so if you ever need to chat just say and I'll talk all night! Love you and hope you enjoy!
