A/N: I am SO so sorry for not keeping up with this story; I got completely overwhelmed by school and by this story alone. The self harm scenes are very difficult for me to write sometimes and I wasn't in the right place to re-live those moments in my writing as it would be detrimental to my health and would also show in my writing. :) Thank you guys for understanding and being patient with me.
***ALSO*** I can't promise you that it's going to be a chapter a day kind of thing like I was doing because that was literally taking over my life and I can't do that anymore, so I'm sorry for that.
(I also don't have spell check on this computer so I'm ever so sorry if I get anything wrong)
Much love, Jasmine xx
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Chapter Seven:
John woke lethargically, his entire being disorientated. The boy moved his wooden limbs slowly, his face scrunching at the stiffness. The bed swallowed him in, welcoming him in with the soft material. The blonde reluctantly tore himself away from the comfy mattress, stumbling to the bathroom to have a shower. His thoughts slowly drifted to Sherlock, how he had kissed him the other week. The boy caught himself grinning smugly, he had someone. John wondered what the boy was doing; if he would still be asleep, or eating breakfast? Simple things like that plagued is mind every morning, it was pathetic really. It was like the boy was pining. Sighing, the boy got under the running water, liking the way that the warm movement soothed his skin and woke the tired teenager up gently, his thoughts reverting back to Sherlock...
...
The blonde boy rubbed his eyes and slouched in his seat, maths was so fucking boring. He never had managed to understand why somebody needs to learn how to draw a quadratic graph to be deemed as intellegent. It was pointless to him. John sighed and buried his head in his arms, trying to clear his confused brain. A small chuckle beside him made his body stiffen, Sherlock. It was ridiculous; the boy's very presence made him panic. John's eyes made their way to look upon the ghostly complexion of Sherlock Holmes. He could feel his facial muscles pulling slightly as he grinned widely at the lanky boy sat beside him.
"Hello, John." Sherlock said through a bruised lip; it had been a little over a week since the fight. The dark purple blotches on his friends face shined like a badge of honor, and he looked... beautiful. John revelled in the thought, he could think that now; without regret, or disgust or any anger at himself and his once tainted thoughts. Sherlock was beautiful.
"Hi..." Sherlock smirked at the blonde's curt response despite the discomfort running through his cheek. John looked so intimidated by him, which confused the pale boy as he felt exactly the same way about John. John... The very word rolled off of his tongue and straight into his stomach, tearing the letters apart one by one and each flying around restlessly.
...
The loud chatter of students and the scraping of chairs were all that filled the busy classroom. The bell hadn't even rang yet, typical students. Sherlock sighed as he hauled his long legs out from under the table, his knees brushing against the stocky leg of John's, giggling as he saw the boys tanned face grow red in obvious embarrassment. The blonde licked his lips nervously as he stuffed his equipment in his rucksack to go to lunch. Lunchtimes were always special to John as he could sit and talk with Sherlock like any couple would, just hidden away.
The two teenagers made their way onto the feild, being careful not to get mud on their shoes. Bloody weather. They both sat down on the cement; it was the place where they first met. A place once surrounded by grief and depression replaced with light laughter and loving eyes. As Sherlock unwrapped his lunch, John couldn't help noticing him wince as he took his first bite.
"Does it hurt...?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to look at the boy in the eyes in fear of making Sherlock agitated. Since the fight, he had the ability to over protect the boy next to him.
"Of course." Sherlock breathed, taking another painful mouthful of cucumber sandwich. Since meeting John, the boy had unlocked a strange love of sandwiches within Sherlock. "But... It was worth it." The boy looked into the shining blue orbs of John Watson, loving how in this light he could see his own battered reflection. In that almost surreal moment, he felt something strike his heart, something like barbed wire was coiled around it and squeezing. Hard. Sherlock found his vision start to blur, what was going on? His heart was in his throat, convulsing and bleeding out. Within the midst of the blind hysteria he was going through, his ringing ears sought for John's voice. Suddenly, his newly filled stomach rejected its contents violently. The last thing that Sherlock saw before the world went black was the angelic face of the boy he... Oh.
