Sometimes, it would be easy to forget about him. Easy to get distracted by school, or Mary. Easy to pretend that everything was normal and that the extraordinary, dark-haired boy who didn't smile at him in the halls anymore wasn't his best friend. Other times, it wasn't so easy.

Like when the tiniest brush against him in the hall would set off fireworks in John's stomach, like when he heard Sherlock's laughter across the room, a harsh reminder that he wasn't the reason why Sherlock could be so happy anymore.

But still, time passed and the chasm between he and Sherlock stopped hurting as much as it used to, and John had begun to think that Sherlock was just another warped memory, not forgotten, never forgotten, but fading slowly.

And then…

"Class, we're going on a trip to Edinburgh next month." Mr. Verdue announced, excited chatter and a whoop from someone filled the classroom and their teacher had to shout the next part for everyone to hear, "I'm passing around a list of the roommates." Some disappointed groans came from the people near them, muttering under their breaths about how stupid it was that they had to be assigned partners. John, for his part, was glad. It would be too painful to watch Sherlock choose Victor and imagine the two of them in a hotel room, laughing and talking through the night. John knew he was being ridiculous, they probably did that every night anyways.

He grasped the sheet of paper handed to him from Molly, thanking her. He found himself scanning the list of names. And much like the very first night here two years ago, he saw two names that changed the course of his life.

Sherlock Holmes & John Watson

John's stomach fluttered. He resolutely stared in front of him, well aware that Sherlock was just to the left of him and if John turned his head slightly he'd be able to see the expression on his face and that was oh so tempting but. Best not.

They wouldn't be able to avoid each other on this trip, and John hoped that maybe it would be enough for them to salvage their relationship. Maybe if they were forced to spend time with each other and talk. Actually talk. They would be okay.

When the bell rang, John had to stay behind to turn in a late homework assignment. After he handed it to Mr. Verdue, John left, unaware that Sherlock was still in the classroom. John really didn't mean to, but halfway down the hall he realized he had forgotten his notebook and went back to get it. John had stepped halfway through the doorway when he heard the Sherlock's low timbre. Maybe it was the urgency in his voice that made John stop in his tracks, backing away from the door.

"I can't stay with John Watson in Edinburgh," Sherlock said, his jaw tense.

Mr. Verdue seemed irritated by this and he waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure whatever squabble you and him are having will be resolved before the trip."

"No," Sherlock insisted, almost desperate, and to John it was like a knife through his stomach. Did Sherlock hate him that much? "I can't go on this trip unless I have a different roommate."

"Mr. Holmes. You will likely fail the class if you don't go on this trip. We'll be visiting history museums and galleries, knowledge you can't get here with your nose in a textbook." Mr. Verdue said firmly. "And if I let everyone change roommates, it would be complete chaos. You are going on this trip, and you're staying with your assigned partner. That's final."

John could see Sherlock struggle to not argue or throw a sharp retort at their teacher that would no doubt lead to a detention. Instead, John saw Sherlock swallow down his frustration and nod stiffly, hands fisted tightly at his sides. John knew that the conversation was over and he quickly turned around and left.

"You alright?"

John blinked and looked up, surprised to see Molly standing by him. She was wringing her hands and clearly concerned.

"Yeah," John said. "Yeah I'm fine."

Molly smiled wryly, "I'm no genius, but you're clearly not fine. You've been reading that line for five minutes, and you hadn't even noticed me now."

John huffed, "picking up something from Greg?" He knew Greg was studying on his own time to become a detective at Scotland Yard, like his uncle.

"We're worried about you," Molly said, after a moment of hesitance. "Greg, Mike and I, even Irene, though she doesn't want to admit it."

"Why?" John said, swallowing a lump in his throat. All those names. Not Sherlock, Sherlock didn't even care about him anymore. "I'm great, better than ever."

Molly shot him a disbelieving look. "I seriously doubt that."

"Really," John said, not sure if he was trying to convince Molly or himself of that. "Don't worry about me." John smiled crookedly and tapped his book, "I've got all that I need here."

She waited a moment, scrutinizing his overly exuberant smile. "You look sad when you think no one sees you."

And that hit too close to home. Because all of this, studying like a maniac for subjects he didn't care about, playing and tackling and running until he fell onto his bunk at night so exhausted and sore that he could hardly move, just to do it all again the next day. Just so that there wasn't a single second where he could stop and think about how much it still hurts, and today, he knew in a month he'd get to spend a whole week in Edinburgh with Sherlock Holmes, the one person he loved more than anything else in the world, and who utterly despised him. Right. He was fine.

"Yeah? Well. There's nothing I can do," John said, sighing.

"That's bullshit," Molly said, quietly but with enough force that John's eyes widened, staring at her.

"What?"

"You're sitting around, all 'woe is me'. That's not true and you know it. You haven't tried to mend any problems between you two, and instead you're throwing yourself into every other possible thing, including a girlfriend you don't love, and doing absolutely nothing about this situation which is every bit as much of your fault as it is his, hoping that Sherlock would come to you, begging for his friend back."

John gaped at her, head spinning. Was she right? Is that what he was doing?

"I-" John stammered.

"You don't have to say anything," Molly said, her expression softening. "Just think about it."

She left John, casually walking away like she hadn't just thrown a bomb at him.