A/N: Hello! Chapter 4 has arrived! Hope you like it, because this is where things begin to become interesting...
The next few days John was still behaving strangely around Sherlock. He spoke less than usual, and he blushed more than he cared to, and most of all, he felt stupid. He always felt a little less intelligent when he was around Sherlock, but he felt like a proper idiot now.
He was, well, he was having certain emotions and thoughts about a certain someone and it made him feel uncomfortable, especially since that person was the smartest person he'd ever met and could probably see right through him. Also, it was a boy, and John didn't normally think about boys that way, ever, which just made him more uncomfortable around him. He really didn't want to admit it but, oh, fuck it, he thought, I like Sherlock. I like Sherlock Holmes, and I like him in a not strictly platonic way. Well, there it was, no going back from that.
John liked a boy, and that scared him a bit. He never thought he was gay; he went out with girls all the time, he liked girls. Then was he bi-sexual? He didn't think so. Any other boy he looked at, he would never normally think that they were good looking or anything like that, but he did like a boy, whom he did think about like that. Maybe he was just a straight guy who happened to like a boy. Did that even happen? He didn't know. He supposed Sherlock was an exception though, he always was, but thinking about it gave him a headache, so he stopped, and pushed the feelings away.
John did not avoid Sherlock, he was his best friend, he would never do that; he didn't even think he could, but he did spend less time with him. He still always sat next to Sherlock at lunch and in classes, they were always partners, and they talked, they walked in the hallway together, but now John would stop going to the library after school, or invite him to his house. Their relationship was now strictly within the school grounds and it made John sick.
Pushing the feelings away really wasn't working for him. They just seemed to come back stronger every time he shoved them out of his brain. He tired to act normal around Sherlock but that also wasn't working. He found it harder to joke with him without thinking about, like it was always nagging at the edge of his thoughts, which only became more prominent when he was with Sherlock.
Some times their hands would accidentally brush or elbows bump when they walked together. It gave John a rush, a rush that he simply did not want (he told himself), but at the same time he did, he liked the feeling of Sherlock's touch, and whenever he felt his skin on his, even for a second, he wanted more. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop it.
John and Sherlock sat a lunch alone, as usual, in a quiet, relatively empty corner of the outdoors cafeteria. They sat in silence as John ate his plateful and Sherlock reluctantly nibbled on his sandwich, that John had forced him to take. After they had finished, Sherlock pushed aside his half eaten sandwich and pulled a book out from his rucksack; he began to read. John also pushed his tray away, but unsure what to do, twiddled his thumbs and stared at the table, as Sherlock continued to read. Sherlock was also acting a bit strange, well, for Sherlock's standards. He normally did not read during lunchtime; lunchtime was usually spent talking or John and Sherlock having fun deducing other people from afar.
John dared a look at Sherlock's face, which was intent on reading. Sherlock did not notice and John did not look away. He studied Sherlock's face, memorizing it, but also trying to ignore the way he liked how Sherlock's face never crumpled up with concentration when doing anything, but stayed still and smooth, or how much he liked his eyes and could stare at them, or rather into them, which he thought he liked the sound of rather more, or even how handsome he thought Sherlock was in general.
John knew that Sherlock some times stared at him, but he knew that he was only deducing what he'd had for breakfast or if Harry was any better; nothing more.
John was still looking as Sherlock; he wanted to look away, because he felt weird just straight up staring at him, but could not bring himself to do it. Only when Sherlock glanced up from his book, to see John gazing at him, did he quickly stop, and slightly blush. Why did he do that? He hated himself for doing that, it made what could have been a completely innocent glance, seem like he was ogling at him, which he was, but he didn't want Sherlock to know that.
Sherlock sighed impatiently and closed his book.
"John, you've been acting very strange. What's wrong?"
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong, Sherlock," John said, with mock surprise. That's not going to work, he's a bloody genius; he'll see right through it.
"John, we both know perfectly well that something is wrong. Now, if you could tell me what the problem is, I'm sure we can rid of it and get on with our lives much easier without these awkward silences."
"You tell me," he snapped.
"Sorry, I don't follow," his brows furrowed.
"You tell me what's wrong. I'm sure you can figure it out with that massive brain of yours!" He wasn't sure why, but he was starting to become angry. He supposed it was mostly with himself, him and his stupid emotions, but he directed it at Sherlock to make himself feel better. It wasn't working very well though.
"John, if I could figure it out own my own, I wouldn't be asking you," Sherlock said with that usual edge of annoyance, "It's starting to become infuriating, so please just tell me."
"It's nothing," John replied quietly, looking down now.
"Clearly it's not, otherwise you would not be acting so childish and simply tell me!"
"Sorry, I have to go to class," he stood and began to walk back towards the building, even though there was still several minutes of lunch break left.
"We're in the same class, John!" Sherlock called after him, still the same tone of irritation in his voice, but he did not follow John.
A/N: Next chapter coming soon! Please review, tell me what you think. Even constructive critisism is appreciated! (Though not too much) :P