John has come to terms with the fact that one of his friends is a traitor.
He is set on finding out just who.
In order to investigate, he decides to invite his friends over and interrogate them. After all, sometimes the blunt truth is better than beating around the bush. It's certainly less tedious.
They all order Chinese food and sit around making fun of game show contestants on the television.
"My god, I've never seen anyone that blonde! Her hair is so bright! Everyone look away, it's dangerous to look directly into the sun!" Sarah jokes, and everyone laughs.
As Little Miss Sunshine proceeds to answer five questions wrong in a row, John clears his throat and begins his interrogation with a simple observation. "So, Sherlock got beat up the other day."
"Oh no!" Clara gasps.
"Oh my god!" Sarah exclaims.
"Well I wouldn't doubt it," Mike says nonchalantly. And of course three pairs of shocked-perhaps mortified eyes are on him so he rolls his eyes and shrugs a bit. "Well John, you are dating a bit of a prick."
John is quite surprised at Mike. His roommate, his best friend. "What are you saying, Mike?"
"Oh, nothing," Mike defends himself. "I'm just saying that there's a lot of people who'd like to give him a good pop to the jaw."
"What reason could they possibly have for doing that?" John asks.
Mike scoffs. "Are you kidding me? Sherlock is an absolute dick! I don't know if you've noticed because when you're dating someone you tend to oversee their flaws, but he's an utter bastard. Did you hear what happened the other day with Molly Hooper? He insulted her lip shape and she looked like she was going to cry all class!"
"Well I know he's a bit of a jerk," John admits. "I'm not completely blind to his insolence. But…I'm just saying, other than that there's no reason to beat him up, right? For being…oh, I don't know, gay?"
Mike cocks his head to the side. "What the hell are you going on about? As far as the rest of campus is concerned, Sherlock doesn't have an interest in anything with a face, much less men! Unless somebody has been spreading rumors?"
"That's exactly what's been going on!" John's voice suddenly raises as his excitement grows. "You know, at every class I've gone to I've been questioned by dozens of people about my relationship with Sherlock! 'Have you two boned each other yet?' 'Is Sherlock Holmes even capable of achieving an erection?' 'How good of a snogger is he?' It's ridiculous and volatile and crass! Someone is responsible, and I never told anyone, and Sherlock never told anyone, so who did? Satan?"
At that point, Clara makes an odd choking noise. John snaps his neck around immediately to stare at her. He finds it interesting that Clara is unable to make eye contact.
John blinks a couple times. "…Clara?" No response. "Clara, was this all you?"
Clara turns her head away and balls her hands into fists at her side.
"Clara, you told!" John exclaims.
Clara bites her bottom lip thoughtfully before choking out "I'm sorry."
John is overwhelmed. He furrows his eyebrows and shouts "I can't believe you!"
Clara flinches and shuts her eyes tight. "Please don't yell at me!"
"Don't yell?" John scoffs. "Clara, I'm being taunted! Sherlock is hurt right now! His fucking face is bleeding!"
"I know!" Clara screams. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I swear!"
"How could you not have meant it?!" John hisses.
"Stop!" Sarah suddenly interjects. "Stop it, John, don't patronize her! She said she didn't mean it!"
John is taken aback. Clara obviously looks sorry enough. John knows Clara is a delicate creature. She can't take much criticism. Obviously it had been a mistake. John shouldn't be angry. Accidents do happen.
John sits back and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "All right," he sighs. "What happened?"
Clara's bottom lip quivers before she begins speaking. "It just…slipped, is all. I was talking to Sally Donovan, and she said she fancied you. And I…I told her that you were spoken for. When she inquired by who, I realized I had said too much, but she was really persistent and I gave in and told her. She got really offended and left in a storm, and she must have spread the rumors. I'm sorry, John, really I am. I'm sorry if you hate me now."
John's expression softens. He shakes his head at her slowly. "Oh, Clara. I don't hate you."
"Are you still upset?"
"Excruciatingly." And then John gives her a faint smile. "But I suppose I'll learn to deal, hmm?"
John figures the teasing would go away eventually. Something new would happen around campus and spark everyone's interest and John's relationship with Sherlock would be forgotten news.
Unfortunately, life is dreary for university students and John and Sherlock remain the highlights of everyone's day.
John went to Lestrade after Sherlock had gotten beaten up and explained the predicament. Lestrade vowed not to let Sherlock out of his sight, thus keeping him off the hit list. Nobody dared touch Sherlock with Lestrade around, not because Lestrade was intimidating, but because his father was. That sort of let Lestrade down a little bit, but John had assured him that he'd grow up to be the most intimidating officer of Scotland Yard in just a few years time.
While walking to class, Anderson walks by John, giving him a little shove as he glides past. "How's you and the freak? Is he getting bored of you yet?"
"Shut up, Anderson," John snaps, the most annoyed he's ever been in quite a long while.
He goes back to his dormitory to find a cleverly placed piece of paper taped to his front door with the words "John Watson is a fairy" scribbled across it. He snarls in annoyance as he forcefully tears the paper from the door and enters his room.
Mike is already inside, steadily typing on his laptop. He watches John angrily throw the taunting message into the trash and sighs. "Another one?"
"I'm going to Sherlock's," John snarls back in reply, slamming the door shut behind him.
Sherlock is at his desk with an open chemistry textbook sprawled in front of him when John enters the room. He recognizes John's presence but doesn't look up. How typical.
John sighs audibly enough for Sherlock to hear as he makes his way towards him, standing over behind Sherlock and nonchalantly sliding a hand down the front of Sherlock's silk linen-covered chest. He sighs again.
Sherlock has learned to interpret John's dramatic sighing as a way to inaudibly say "let's talk." He would obviously rather finish his reading, but he rolls his eyes and parts his lips to speak. "Don't give in. That's what they want," he tells John.
"I know," John agrees, caressing Sherlock's clothed chest absentmindedly. "It's just annoying is all." He leans forward to press his lips against the top of Sherlock's head, kissing the mess of soft dark curls. "How do you do it? Ignore everything?"
Sherlock flips a page in his textbook before he answers. "Perhaps it's a trait learned over years."
John furrows his eyebrows at this. He doesn't like to think about young Sherlock very often. He imagines Sherlock might have had a rather depressing childhood. He's not exactly a social creature, and John can only imagine the teasing and bullying that must have gone on in grade school. Children do tend to be heartless little bastards, and some of them never truly grow up.
"I love you," John says all of a sudden, kissing Sherlock's head again.
Sherlock doesn't respond.
John drops his head to plant a small kiss at Sherlock's temple. "I love you," he repeats with his lips pressed against Sherlock's skin.
Sherlock doesn't even flinch, his eyes transfixed on the textbook before him.
A peck on Sherlock's cheek. A small kiss at the bottom of his jaw. The side of his neck. Where his throat meets his collarbone. John pulls Sherlock's shirt to the side to kiss his shoulder, all the while mumbling "I love you" over and over again as Sherlock continues to be indifferent.
"Let's have sex," John says, nuzzling his face against Sherlock's long, slender neck.
Sherlock flips the page. "John, please, I'm studying."
"So am I." John wraps his arms around Sherlock's thin waist, drawing his hands up Sherlock's chest. "Anatomy 101. I've got an exam coming up, care to help me study?" He catches the tip of Sherlock's ear between his teeth, scraping ever so gently.
Sherlock slams the textbook shut almost immediately.