EDIT 13/6: A very helpful review pointed out how many mistakes there are in this chapter (which is quite embarrassing really), so here is the (hopefully) mistake free version ^^; Also, just to be a massive tease the next chapter has more drama! Yaaayyy drama! But it probably won't be up today x.x
A/N: I'm going to be a terrible author now and whine at you guys. I've had some fantastically helpful reviews, really, thank you so much to everyone who has left me advice ^^ But I could do with some more, becauseIamsoneedy. I just want to know your thoughts on this little fic of mine.
Well, on with the chapter, it was an annoying one to write because I lost the chapter plan for this one and the next chapter too -_-' irritating.
Enjoy!
Sherlock was not amused. It was one of the few times he had decided to do the mature, responsible thing and the universe seemed to be working against him at every turn. He was going to talk to John, difficult a conversation though it might prove to be, but the world was refusing to give him any opportunity whatsoever. In all the lessons he'd actually turned up to John had managed to make himself busy in the minutes before the class started and sat on the other side of the room, effectively meaning there was no way he could get his attention without getting the entire room's too. He doubted talking to him in the middle of the dining hall was a particularly good idea, although the idea of there being witnesses was a slightly tempting one, and he certainly wasn't going to turn up at his room either.
He violently threw his cigarette stub over the fence the lined the school's grounds. He'd abandoned his usual hiding place, having discovered that the team had actually started playing rugby on the field. Instead Sherlock was concealed from the sight of teachers round the corner of the arts block, where it was unlikely anyone would pass by. It was freezing, predictably enough for November, and the light had started fading earlier and earlier. Sherlock appreciated the cover of darkness; it made his ventures out on the grounds a lot easier. He had watched as the sun slowly filtered down the sky, leaving streaks of colour as it went. It had reached the point where the sky was nearly black, save for a low sliver of orange and pink sinking below the horizon.
So caught up was he in admiring the effect the sun cast on the sky, Sherlock didn't hear a door open further down the building, or hear the drama teacher talking to a student. It was only when she sharply shouted that he snapped out of his private universe.
"Holmes!"
Internally he cursed at having let himself get distracted and walked towards the teacher, stomach sinking when he realised the student next to her was John.
"What are you doing out?"
He blanked, trying to think of some reasonable excuse he could be outside when John interrupted.
"He was waiting for me, sorry."
The teacher's expression visibly softened, she nodded curtly,
"Hurry along then boys, come inside too next time, Sherlock."
Sherlock mumbled something affirmative and quickly turned and followed John around the corner.
"Thank you." He said, not caring how obvious it was that he was desperate to talk to him.
John shrugged as he kept walking,
"It's fine."
"John," He said, more sharply than he'd intended. The other stopped and turned to look at him, clearly trying to look indifferent, but anxiety showing through nonetheless.
"I'm sorry," Sherlock said, the words sitting unfamiliarly on his tongue, "I didn't mean to…surprise you."
"You've done more than that." John murmured, probably mostly to himself, "Do you know exactly how much you've done?"
"I probably do, in a way."
John looked at him sceptically,
"The impassive Holmes? I doubt it."
"That's my point," Sherlock said with a hint of desperation, he needed him to understand, "I don't do emotions, you know that. They just get in the way, and suddenly you've just shoved your way into my head and I can't get you out. If you're finding yourself reassessing your understanding of yourself, then yes, I understand. This is new for both of us."
He gave the taller a slightly bitter smile,
"Alright, so apparently you understand some of it. How is that supposed to help me exactly? In what way does it make it better?"
"I…don't know." He said slowly. Some part of him had expected John to forgive him, knowing it was affecting him just as badly.
John nodded slowly,
"Thought so. You told me you knew all the important things once. Don't know much about people though, do you?"
"They're not important. No, I don't mean it like that. Almost everyone here is unimportant, they don't matter to me." Sherlock struggled to explain, "And that's how it should be, it lets you see clearly without getting mixed up in emotions. Then suddenly you come along and I don't understand anymore, you don't make sense!"
"Well thanks," John replied, though there was a hint of humour in his voice, "You're not exactly straight-forward yourself. You're supposed to be the genius, come up with a solution."
John was surprising himself, it was like all his anger that had built up towards to the other was quietly dissipating, leaving him with just the underlying longing. He should have been angry still, refusing to listen to him and storming out. Under any other circumstances, with a different person, he was sure he would be. There was something pitiful about the confused boy standing in front of him, struggling through emotions like some small child unable to express themselves. It made him want to forget all the things that told him to walk away, to never speak to him again, and hold him until he calmed down. Until he could figure out what was going on, with both of them.
"You're the normal one, you come up with the solution." Sherlock countered.
He knew full well what the normal solution was, but it was hardly a normal situation. But then things couldn't stay the way they were, both of them getting rapidly more confused, it just wouldn't end well. Certainly not with someone as unpredictable as Sherlock.
"Well, people usually…I don't know…date?" He felt awkward just saying it.
"Date?"
"Yes. Date."
"So…are you saying?"
John suddenly felt very flustered,
"No! Maybe? I don't know. I'm leaving now."
As he turned to leave the taller grabbed his wrist, turning him back around.
"That, um, would be the best idea. From a scientific point of view."
"I am not one of your experiments, thank you very much. They explode too often for my liking…"
Sherlock smiled slightly and nodded,
"I'll try not to blow you up. So, does this mean we're-"
Before he could finish John abruptly interrupted, embarrassment clear,
"Yes, yes, shut up now. I am actually leaving this time."
He was still confused, very much so, but he couldn't help but feel that it was at least a step in the right direction.