Merry Christmas everybody!
My gift to you is the longest chapter so far, and it includes a fight, a kiss, and lots of comfort :)
29. Mud
With difficulty, Olivia bent down to put on her trousers and winced as the muscles in her back refused to stretch with her. She hadn't expected that one night of sleeping on the floor would make her body ache like this.
Around her, the other girls from her class complained about the rain as they changed into their sports clothes. She watched their young bodies be uncovered and covered again, wondering how they could seem so confident and happy, while everything was obviously so screwed up. Why were they whining about the bloody rain, anyway? Its not like they were made of sugar. Joan and another girl named Susan were whispering in a corner, shooting quick glances in her direction and bursting out in giggles.
She ignored them and tried to focus on Lucy, who was telling about her most recent adventures with her boyfriend while changing.
"He told me he was afraid I didn't like him anymore after what happened. He was so happy I called him, and we had the most amazingly romantic night. You should have been there! Oh no, actually you shouldn't have been there." She giggled and the other girls laughed and Olivia zoned out again.
It was almost a week after parent-teacher night and it had been a tough one. Her father and Sebastian had picked her up from Rose's and when Sebastian had dropped them off at home it was already 11 pm. The first thing her dad had done was grab a coke. She had fled to her bedroom immediately.
The next day he had sat her down at the kitchen table with a stern face, telling her that they needed more structure in their life. It would be good for the both of them, he said. Next, he'd given her a nine point list, written in handwriting that was not his own. Most of the rules related to her social life, limiting her freedom to see her friends after school and in the weekends. Only once a week was she allowed to go to a friend's house. No sleepovers. No theatres or cinemas. No boys, either. She was too young to be involved in a relationship, he said. He also asked her if there already was a boy she was seeing, hadn't believed her when she said no. He had tried to remain calm but the corner of his eyes had twitched and his jaw clenched. She was afraid of this man who tried to discipline her, but had kept her mouth shut until he stopped repeating the question.
The next few days had been extremely tense. Her father was waiting for her to break the rules, and she was silently contemplating whether to do so and how she would escape. Eventually she realized she wasn't able to. Scared of what he would do if she tried to leave, scared of what Sebastian would write down in her file when he would come by on Wednesday. It put her on edge, interrupted her sleep, and made her extremely impatient with people in general.
Strangely Anthony seemed distracted as well, not looking at her during class anymore. He didn't try to kiss her. When she spoke to him he seemed to be sad, but when she asked what was wrong he sad there was nothing. Olivia didn't have the energy to ask further.
She hadn't seen Mr Holmes again. Not in private anyway, and during class she could tell he was distracted, because he wasn't listening to their private conversations anymore and the focus of his eyes was absent. When they were working, he just stared out the window or straight ahead, fingertips brushing his lips.
She thought about the things he'd told her in his office. Things she only realised later were important. He had kissed Mr Brook, or at least, let Mr Brook kiss him at some sort of Christmas party. Why were they celebrating Christmas together? Were they friends outside of work? Why wasn't he home the next day? The man in the suit said he was working on a case, but was that even true? What did he do when he was not at school?
He was a mystery. A mystery that kept getting more confusing to her. And then on Wednesday suddenly Anderson was teaching his chemistry class.
When she got home that day, tired and worried what had happened to Mr Holmes, Sebastian was there. He was extremely positive and encouraging, saying everything was as it should be, which caused her dad to relax and Olivia to tense up.
That evening her father had pressed himself against her while she was getting a glass from the cupboard. She had felt his hardness against her lower back, his breath damp against her ear. "Why don't you sleep in my room tonight?" he had whispered. She had struggled her way out of his grasp, run upstairs without looking back. In her room she had laid down with her duvet on the floor against the door of her room, wanting to know immediately if he tried to come in during the night. He hammering heart kept her eyes wide open.
After all of this, the rain felt like a release. She bound her hair together while she walked of the changing room onto the field.
Mr Simmons had scheduled rugby training and started by having them run five times around the field. The rain had turned the grass into a muddy pool and soon her legs were splattered with grey. Running felt good, it cleared her head, and the rain muffled the sound of her peers.
After a brief reminder of the rules and dividing the teams, Mr Simmons blew his whistle to start the match. Anthony was as usual one of the most enthusiastic players, running and throwing and bracing his body for impact. Billy, Lucy, Rose, and Eric were all fighting for dominance. Olivia didn't pay much attention, running a bit and trying block people until Joan purposely bumped into her. The ball wasn't anywhere near them. Angrily, Olivia watched her run away and laugh, trying to catch Anthony's attention.
Suddenly, Olivia didn't feel like playing the game anymore, but standing still made her shiver with cold. The anger, fear and frustration that had been building up were making its way to the surface, boosting her energy. She ran to the other side of the field, where Joan was now trying to get away with the ball she had just been passed by Anthony. Olivia ran as fast as she could and crashed fully into her without slowing down, extracting a squeal of pain from Joan. Billy came by and quickly snatched the ball from Joan's hands. But Joan's attention didn't return to the match.
"What the hell are you touching me for, Edwards?" she hissed.
"I'm just playing rugby," she answered, still a little out of breath.
"Well, I don't appreciate being groped!"
"What are you talking about? I tackled you." This was an unexpected turn Joan had taken.
"No you didn't. You just wanted to feel me up. I know what you are."
Anthony had noticed their arguing and was now approaching.
"That I'm what?" Olivia asked.
"Tell her Anthony." Joan said. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, too impatient to wait for Anthony. "He's been telling me how upset he is and I can't stand watching this anymore. Gone on. Ask her if it's true."
Mr Simmons was squinting his eyes at them from his dry place in the dugout across the field, trying to figure out why a few of his players were completely ignoring the game.
Uncomfortable but clearly determined to get this cleared up; Anthony took a breath and looked at Olivia.
"I heard… I heard you and Rose are uhm… seeing each other."
"What? That's ridiculous!"
They had to speak up to make themselves understandable through the crashing rain. Rose had noticed the little group as well and joined to hear what was going on, holding her jacket above her head.
"So you two didn't kiss at Lucy's party?" Anthony asked.
Olivia was stunned for a moment. This was far from what she'd expected to hear. Had he seen them? No that was impossible. Somebody must have talked about it.
Joan looked triumphant at her silence, and Rose averted her eyes, not knowing if she should answer for Olivia.
"I… we did. But that was months ago," she finally said.
"So the fact that we were already in a relationship didn't mean anything to you?" Anthony's face looked like he was about to cry, but she couldn't see tears because of the rain.
"It did! It does! With Rose…it was just to try… It didn't mean anything!"
Rose tried to calm him down. "Seriously Anthony, we were just-"
"Shut up! Keep out of this," he yelled at the imaginary thief of his girlfriend.
"So you're saying that it was just a bit of fun? That you never did it again?"
"Yes! That's exactly what it was."
"Ha! Well, Joan saw you two kiss after the Christmas party at school," he said accusingly.
Furious, Olivia turned to Joan.
"Liar!" she yelled.
Joan stepped forward so that they were almost touching. She was an inch taller than Olivia and smirked at her.
"Unfortunately I'm not. Is this why you won't let him touch you?" Her words were matched by the challenging look in her eyes. Go on, they said, try and talk your way out of this one.
Olivia's eyes flicked to Anthony. He'd been talking to Joan a lot more than she'd realised.
"I'm not gay."
"Really? Why are you always with Rose, then? I heard you were at her place last Friday night." Joan was pushing her backwards by walking forward, showing she was dominant.
"We're friends!"
"Yeah, I think nobody believes that anymore. Did she go down on you?"
"No."
Joan kept walking forward. She hardly stopped speaking to wait for Olivia's answers.
"Did you like it? I bet you are turned on right now, aren't you?"
"No. Stop it."
"I don't even want to know what you think about when we are in the changing rooms. It's disgusting."
Olivia gave her a push on her shoulders, willing her to stop advancing. She was rewarded with a sharp push back.
"Don't you dare touch me, you dyke!"
Olivia wasn't aware of her surroundings anymore. In her rage she was completely focused on Joan. She longed to hurt this girl with every fibre of her being. Shoving her hard, Joan almost toppled over and she screamed. She launched back and grabbed a handful of Olivia's hair, dragging her to the ground. Olivia was vaguely aware of Rose pulling on Joan's arm, but more so of the cold mud seeping through her clothes. Joan persisted, straddling her and pushing her head down to the wet ground. While rain pricked in her eyes, Olivia kicked, punched and slapped, sometimes hitting air, sometimes flesh. For some reason, Rose had disappeared again.
Everything around her was a swirl of grey and green and Joan's long hair and sharp pain and Olivia managed to push hard so that she could get up. When she did, she landed a fist in Joan's face. Joan was crying and screaming and hitting back. Olivia was hardly aware of her own screaming, Rose's shouting, or the excited yelling of her gathering classmates. Everything needed to come out, and Joan was her target. She didn't even feel the girl's fingernails scratch or the fist hitting her mouth.
Then suddenly, a loud voice broke the cloud in her head. Mr Simmons, finally out of his shelter, threw himself between them and grabbed their arms to keep them apart. Olivia wasn't finished and fought against his grip, trying to kick Joan but kicking Simmons instead.
"You girls will discontinue this right now!" Mr Simmons yelled.
Olivia finally stopped moving, due to exhaustion and due to the fact that she realised the entire class was staring at her. Rose and Anthony were also quite muddy, obviously having participated in the fight at some point. She also became aware of the cold, the dirt covering her, and the burning pain in her face and several other parts of her body.
Sherlock was putting stacks of exam paper on his desk at the front of the classroom when he heard the door behind him open. He looked around.
"Morning, John."
John was looking at him with an alarming smile on his face. Shouldn't he be annoyed with him for not showing up yesterday? He straightened and took a better look at his friend.
"I see you didn't get round to ironing your shirt. You also had takeout last night." Sherlock frowned. "Did you and Mary…"
John winced. "Yes, we had a bit of a domestic. Nothing to worry about though. We're fine now." His face relaxed and Sherlock immediately knew they'd had make up sex this morning. John's sex life was always incredibly easy to deduce from his frown and the degree of tension in his shoulders.
"I just got a call."
Sherlock threw him an exasperated look.
"Tell Mycroft to-"
"No," John cut him off. "Emma's mother called me. You probably know why."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. This could still go both ways.
"Cancer? I'm 98 per cent sure it's cancer."
"It is."
"Knew it!" He said triumphantly.
"Sherlock, please don't celebrate somebody's possibly fatal illness."
"But I was right! And he's not terminal."
"Of course you were right. You might have handled it a little differently though. Scribbling: "Tell your father to see a doctor" on the back of a pupil's essay is not really how to go about it."
"I was busy," he pouted.
"Yes well, her mother called. She wishes me to convey her and her husbands sincerest gratitude for your… advice."
"Hmm."
"And they've invited you over to their place for dinner."
John reveled at the sight of Sherlock's panicky face. He felt like a parent announcing to their child they were going to see the dentist. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.
"That's why you were smiling! You told her I wouldn't, didn't you?"
"I wouldn't dare speak for you, Mr Holmes."
Sherlock didn't reply. He just stared at the wall for a minute while John sat on one of the desks.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine."
The half smile he got told John Sherlock was trying to put his mind at ease. His eyes appeared a bit hollow and he looked paler than usual, the first signs of Sherlock working 24/7.
"Do you need some time off, for the investigation?"
Sherlock's eyes closed and he rubbed his face roughly.
"No," he mumbled, "Yesterday was just. There is a new lead in…" He stopped himself, remembering Mycroft's rules. He dropped his hands.
"Are you sure you don't want to assist me? I could use somebody who actually has a clue what they're doing."
John smiled at the compliment.
"Thanks, but no. I have a lot going on here. And the baby… Got to be a bit responsible."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. He'd almost forgotten about the baby, but now remembered the tiny kicks he'd felt with his hand pressed against Mary's belly. It was silent for a while as they both considered the reality of baby Watson, until Sherlock took a few steps toward John and attempted to say something.
It took him a few tries of opening and closing his mouth, but he finally decided on how to start.
"John I know… that you are worried… about Moriarty. Me and Moriarty. You probably think I'm stupid enough to pull something similar as last summer. I'm not. This is just something I need to do. And I won't pretend this is not utterly selfish of me, because it is, but he is a real threat. His network… it's vast, and dangerous, and the drug they've developed is popping up everywhere. It's killing kids, John, kids taking adult doses in playgrounds. I just want you to know that I'm not planning on leaving here, I'm not planning on neglecting my teaching, and I'm not planning on relapsing."
"You better not," John said, his voice emotional.
Sherlock cleared his throat.
"And I wanted to say uhm… for the past four months I… I haven't made your job particularly easy I realize that. And I never got round to telling you…"
John couldn't watch it anymore.
"I know," he said and got up. He wrapped his arms firmly around Sherlock's taller but thinner frame, and pressed himself tightly against that stupid genius who for a few seconds was too stunned to respond. Then John felt long arms slip around his shoulders.
"Thank you."
His otherwise deep voice was broken and John knew this was one of those rare moments he was allowed to see Sherlock's vulnerability. He held on to his friend and decided he should use this moment.
"Sherlock, can you promise me that if… if you feel like you might relapse, you will come to me?" he said to his shoulder.
Sherlock took a moment to think before he answered. "Yes."
He could feel John relax.
"Even if it's the middle of the night and I haven't slept because the baby is keeping me and Mary up, you should come to me, alright?"
Sherlock nodded, his cheek moving against John's hair.
Then, the conversation having come to an end, their hug became slightly awkward. Sherlock imagined what anyone would think if they saw them like this.
John squeezed Sherlock's flank experimentally. "Right now I want to get some food in you. I get the feeling you haven't been eating again."
Sherlock threw his head back and groaned in exasperation, but let John grab his hand and pull him into the corridor, smiling.
"I don't have much time," John said while they walked through the main corridor, "but we can get some soup in the cafeteria. It's still early so it won't be crowded."
The scent of food already drifted into their nostrils when a door opened to the right, and Mr Simmons came in, soaking wet with four pupils in tow and visibly relieved to see them. They left a trail of mud and water on the linoleum floor.
With one look John assessed the situation and covered his eyes with his hand. A low groan escaped him.
"Ha, John!" Simmons said, "I'm glad you're here. I've got four pupils for you. They might need some first aid but mostly they need a good talking to, preferable also detention. Miss Edwards and Miss Davies found it necessary to start a fight in the middle of a rugby match. Mr Wilding and Miss Edeson were involved but to a lesser extent."
He let go of Joan and Olivia's arms and did a step back. Sherlock noticed that Olivia didn't dare meet his eyes.
"I trust they are in good hands. You probably know better what to do with them than I do." Simmons turned around and sprinted towards the door to the playing fields, quickly removing himself from the situation.
"Do you want me to handle this?" Sherlock asked John, to the dismay of Joan and Anthony.
"Would you? Please? I'm happy to talk to the parents and disinfect them, but just… could you please find out what happened?"
Sherlock kept his face neutral and nodded.
John sighed in relief. "Thanks mate. Let me know how it goes. We'll have lunch tomorrow."
Sherlock made himself listen to twenty minutes of arguing between three angry teenagers. They were all dripping mud onto the floor and chairs, but that didn't matter because he'd taken them to Anderson's classroom. Sherlock was sitting laid back in the Math teacher's chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. Joan was most vocal in her accusations, with support from Anthony. Olivia was quietly staring at the wall, refusing to defend herself against allegations of cheating and using violence, and ignoring sneering remarks about her sexual orientation. Rose was defending both of them like a lion.
"I didn't want this to end in a fight, but Joan was just helping me. And I felt super betrayed!" Anthony complained.
"We told you, it was only once! And we were high for god's sake!" Rose bellowed at him, whose eyes widened at her admission in the presence of a teacher.
"Oh as if he didn't know already!" she exclaimed with a wild hand gesture.
Sherlock did know. He knew most of the things that had happened it this group of pupils since the start of the school year. He could easily discern the bullshit from the truth to patch together what he thought was an accurate account of the story.
What did not become clear to him was why something as insignificant as a boyfriend had ended in a physical fight between the girls. A fight it seemed, in which Olivia had been the most aggressive. She and Joan were covered from head to toe in filth and scratches. Joan had received a blow to her eye and sported some swollen skin on her cheekbone. He suspected there were more bruised areas under the layer of mud and clothes. Olivia had some blood on her face, which he wasn't sure came from her nose or her mouth. Her hair was grey with mud and her ponytail had become almost completely undone. She looked nothing like that innocent girl he had met at the end of the summer.
"And then she even tried to kick me again when Mr Simmons was there!" Joan's sharp voice brought him back to the conversation.
"Olivia, any comment?" Sherlock tried.
She didn't move or say anything, but kept staring at the wall, shivering lightly. He figured they must all be freezing.
"Right. Does any of you feel dizzy, have any significant bleeding or experience nausea or neck pain?"
"I have neck pain and I feel dizzy. I think it's from the blow to my head," Joan's voice broke while she said it.
"Alright, don't move too much. I will take you to Mr Watson. The rest of you are going straight to the showers. You will hear your punishment later."
Anthony was out the door before he finished speaking.
Olivia watched as Mr Holmes took Joan by her elbow and helped her up. She fought the urge to jump up and push him away so she could start the fight all over again.
"I'm so cold," Joan said with a small, shivering voice. As they walked away, Mr Holmes laid a hand on her back, just above her shoulder blades. The tiny gesture made Olivia want to cry and scream. Instead she balled her hands into fists and shut her eyes.
Rose was silent when they walked back to the changing rooms together. The rooms were empty, as their class had already finished and were now having lunch. For Olivia it was a relief. It would have been even better if Rose hadn't been there either.
She stood in the corner of the big joined shower space, letting the hot water wash away the filth. It felt comforting, like a hug. Slowly, she felt the tears come up from her belly up to her eyes, blocking her view, blocking her nose and constricting her breathing. After a few minutes of keeping it in, she couldn't help but gasp. The sound was amplified by the tiled walls.
"Olivia?" Rose took a few hesitant steps towards her in the heavily steaming room.
"Do you want to talk?" Rose thought about putting her hand on Olivia's shoulder, but her friend was completely drawn in on herself. Her shoulders hunched, arms tightly wrapped around her body, eyes closed, facing the wall. It didn't seem wise to touch her.
Olivia's voice was a whisper. "No. Please let me be alone for a bit."
"A-alright."
Quietly, Rose stepped out of the showers and grabbed a towel from the shelf to dry with. Her school uniform felt cosy and warm compared to cold tiled room with the storm still blazing outside. Her hair still wet, she slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and opened the door to the corridor, only to find Mr Holmes standing there.
This was as close to nervous she had ever seen him. He was standing with his hands in his pockets by the window, but turned immediately when he heard the door open. Although his ruffled hair and tired face may have contributed to it, he looked worried. He gave her a questioning look when Olivia did not appear to be following.
"She's still in the shower. She told me to go but I don't think she's completely ok."
Rose knew her friend was absolutely not ok.
"What happened with her?"
"I'm not sure. Joan was being a bully, saying Olivia and I… that we were a couple, mocking her. I think it was only because she wants Anthony, though. Olivia just lost it. I would like to say it was completely self-defence, but… it really wasn't."
"I know." Sherlock thought of John's shocked face seeing the damage to Joan. Even though the fifteen year-old had been whining, it was not completely without reason.
"But don't blame her for everything!" Rose warned. "Joan was sitting on top of her most of the time. I think Jo- Mr Watson should see Olivia as well. Just in case."
Sherlock frowned. "Is she still bleeding?"
Rose didn't know and shrugged. She could see he wanted to go and check, but wasn't sure of himself.
"I think you should go inside," she said.
Immediately he stepped forward, wanting to run in but restrained himself and knocked first. There was no answer. Slowly he pulled the door open, hoping she would tell him if he should stop.
"Olivia?"
No answer, the showers were still running. Carefully he walked through the changing room to where he heard the cascading water. He distantly remembered this space from when John had given him a tour at the beginning of the year. It looked utterly depressing.
He gave a knock on the next door. No answer.
He opened it a few centimetres without looking inside. A cloud of steam blew into his front.
"Olivia?"
He could hear her sniffling. The echo of the tiles made it difficult, but he was quite sure she was sitting on the floor. God how he wished he had listened to more carefully John's babbling about comforting people. What on earth should he say? His urge was to go in and see what was going on, but he guessed that that was probably not the gentleman way to go about this. He eyed the shelf of towels next to the showers.
"You should be clean now. Do you need a towel?"
Again, there was no answer.
"I'll just wait out here then."
Sitting down on one of the cold wooden benches that lined the walls, he put a towel next to him. He had been carefully hiding his emotions since Simmons had come into the corridor and he'd seen Olivia covered in mud and blood. He wanted to check her body for injuries and interrogate her for information. Physically, she was probably going to be fine, but he wasn't sure what was going on in her head. Had she become harder to read? She'd definitely become a better liar over the past few months. He mentally scolded himself for not paying enough attention lately.
Thankfully it didn't take long for the door to the showers to open. Her fingers appeared where she gripped the door and her voice came out a bit raw.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Yes, I need a towel."
He got up and put it in her extended hand, after which the door closed again for a minute or two. Then she came out, having it wrapped tightly around her. The colder air immediately made her shiver.
"Better get dressed quickly," he said.
She walked to the place where her bag and clothes laid in a pile on the bench and then looked around at Sherlock again, but he was already standing with his back to her, hands in his pockets, looking inconspicuous. She dropped the towel and stepped into her pants, wincing silently as she pulled them to her hips. Her bra was next and proved to be more difficult. A hiss escaped her when she pulled the straps over her shoulders and stretched her muscles.
Sherlock immediately had the impulse to turn and look, but caught himself just in time.
"It's ok. You can look."
He did, and immediately his eyes scanned her body for damage. The source of her pain was quickly found. A huge bruise on her ribs clearly put there by a bony knee. Further there was some broken skin on her shins and knees, quite a few fingernail scratches on her neck and collarbone, a slightly swollen nose and a cut lip.
"You've stopped bleeding."
A hand went to her face and she turned towards the mirror, her eyes widening at her own reflection. The second thing Sherlock did was scan her body to remember, from her small feet to her soft thighs to the curve of her waist to what he could see of her breasts.
"I didn't even know I was bleeding. I didn't feel it hurt."
He stood behind her and their eyes met in the mirror.
"That's the adrenaline."
She leaned back into him experimentally but he didn't respond, hesitant to let her know she was arousing him when there was something upsetting her.
"Are you angry?" she asked.
He ignored her question and laid his warm hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer to his chest. He wished he could take his shirt off and really feel her against him. One hand slid down, brushing across the white fabric of her bra towards her ribs and lightly he traced his fingers over the bruise. It was still red now but would turn a dark shade of purple soon he guessed.
His head dipped so he could whisper into her ear. "A training in self defence wouldn't be out of order."
Her shivering told him that she needed to get dressed though, so he picked up her top and held it over her head so she could slip her arms and head in. Then he sat down, allowing her the space to dress herself.
Watching her soft skin disappear underneath cotton and wool, Sherlock was having difficulty filing Olivia's naked body in his mind palace. Should it be placed in the growing case file he kept to provide evidence of her troubled home life, causing her to engage in violence (because that's what he assumed was the problem), or in the room he sneaked into when he got hard in the shower? It was terribly confusing.
With Irene, he'd been able to keep her criminal activities neatly separated from the sex, accessing one door to figure out what she was smuggling across the border, and a completely different one to bring her screaming to the edge of orgasm. He realised his relationship with Olivia was completely different and much more complicated. He pushed the problem aside as something he would figure out later.
When Olivia was finished and wrapped warmly in her jumper she picked up her bag to make her leave. Sherlock cleared his throat meaningfully, causing her to turn.
"You didn't think you were going to get away with this by showing me a bruise, did you?"
She swallowed but didn't speak. He tapped the wood beside him.
"Sit."
She did, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest.
"Am I supposed to keep asking you how things are going at home? Because frankly, I'm starting to find it tedious."
She looked at him, eyes wide, trying to figure out what he wanted to hear.
"I don't know."
"I do. I want you to tell me what is going on, why you are so defiant and why you thought it necessary to beat up another pupil. I know Joan Davies get's on your nerves, and that for some strange reason you still want Anthony Wilding to be yours. However I also get the feeling that this was not about either of them. So if anything is frustrating you, you should tell me, because although I might be able to deduce a lot, I'm not a bloody mind reader."
His tone made her anxious. It was dangerous and impatient. What she really wanted was to let the tears behind her eyes come out and hope he would hold her in his arms for a bit. However it seemed like that would only make him sigh and scold her childishness, so she swallowed her tears and thought of what to tell him.
"I'm just confused," she said in a small voice.
He waited while she played with the metal buckle of her schoolbag.
"I can't do anything for myself because my dad won't let me go out because Sebastian made this list of rules I have to follow. And it's as if he has complete control over us now because he can report whatever he wants on us."
Social workers… Sherlock thought. Maybe better to let John deal with this one. He could talk to him this afternoon.
"And my dad says I can't see Anthony anymore because I'm too young to have a boyfriend. And now Joan is saying I can't see him because I'm a lesbian. And I don't even know if I love him but he was my friend and the only normal thing I had in my life and now he's breaking up with me! And I can't even tell you about this because you are never here!"
That stung a little.
"Do you want him?"
"No. Yes. No… I just… I just want to feel normal."
"You think you're not normal?"
"No! I don't know what's normal. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to like or dislike. And I feel like if I don't make up my mind… ev-everyone else w-will move on with-out me."
She stopped playing with the buckle and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.
"You're confused about sex or your sexual orientation?" Sherlock's icy voice had melted into something more understanding.
"Everything."
He thought for a moment on how to reply to this, and eventually went with something based on his own experience.
"Well, I don't know if this will put your mind at ease, but you're not supposed to want, or do, or like anything. The only thing you need to do is feel what you want, what you desire. If anyone tells you to want something else they're wrong. That's what I've always done."
"You don't care what people tell you?" she sniffed.
"I guess I don't. It makes things a lot easier."
"Have you ever been bullied?"
"People have tried."
There was a meaningful silence in which Olivia imagined him as a teenager, being ambushed in an alley and deducing his way out of it, letting the hurtful comments wash off him as he walked away. She gave him a watery smile.
"I think Rose is a bit like you," she said.
That made him smirk, but she was probably right. Then he leaned toward her an inch or two, and looked at her seriously.
"You can ask me about it if you like."
He knew she had been thinking about it and he watched her cheeks pink with the realisation that he knew.
"Have you… have you been with men?"
"A few, although I haven't managed much more than one time encounters. I tend not to like them so much the next day, and that is usually mutual. Not counting John, of course."
"Mr Watson?"
"That's the one."
"You were in a relationship with Mr Watson?!"
She was close to gaping at him, and he relished the sight.
He gave a deep chuckle. "Wouldn't call it that. It happened only a few times and we were both a trembling mess. It was for the best it didn't go on. Mary is a much better partner for him."
"Are you still attracted to him?"
"In a way, sometimes. He's the best person I know," he said honestly.
After seeing her face fall, he added "But don't you worry about that. I prefer him as my friend."
"You're the best person I know." It came out without thinking and she immediately looked away.
"I'm not, trust me. Not by far." Looking back into his eyes she saw a strange sadness she'd never seen before, but it was quickly replaced by something else.
Something dangerous.
"I am the sexiest man you know though," he said with a seductive smile and leaned forward. She smiled back and let herself down on the bench as he approached like a tiger. An excited thrill went through her body, like being in a rollercoaster.
"And I know…" he started planting soft kisses in her neck, "that you think about me when you touch yourself." His baritone voice vibrated against the skin of her throat, spreading goose bumps.
"How…" she began, forgetting to breathe.
He moved his lips to her face, kissing her eyes and nose. "Because that's what you do in my imagination… when I'm in bed… alone."
She felt his words go straight down and her legs quivered with desire. Not being able to stand it anymore she kissed him. It was a desperate, sloppy kiss, in which she completely lost herself, unaware of her surroundings for the second time that day. His tongue dipped into her mouth and retracted, causing her to lift her head desperately to capture it again.
Unable to ignore it anymore, Sherlock sought the hem of her shirt and pushed his hand underneath, longing to feel the almost velvet touch of her naked skin. He hummed into her mouth in appreciation.
As he played with her tongue, his hand slid over her stomach, carefully avoiding the bruise, until the tips of his fingers brushed against the underside of her bra. Her whimpering sounded like a symphony to him. Would she mind if I… he thought.
No, he didn't really think. Not rationally anyway. Mentally shoving aside the ethical objections that had restrained him… he craved. His hand was on her bra and his fingers crept inside, their backs touching upon a very responsive nipple. He could feel her pulse quickening.
Right when he wanted to tug the material down to freely touch and explore, she froze. Her mouth was no longer trying to capture his tongue and her whimpers had ceased. Sherlock wanted to reverse his actions, thinking he had gone too far, until he heard the faint sounds of footsteps in the corridor.
Olivia was used to the room and to the sound of Simmons at the other side of the door, always spurring them to stop chatting and hurry up. Therefore she had picked up the sound a few seconds earlier than he had. Quickly, he pulled Olivia's shirt and jumper down and got off the bench.
When Joan came into the dressing room, still covered in mud and now sporting a few bandages, she saw her classmate sit on the bench, listening to a scolding from her mentor.
"Are you even allowed to be here?" she asked suspiciously.
"Are you even allowed to be here, Mr Holmes. And no, I am not, but considering what you two did today you don't really have the moral high ground now do you? Sit down."
Joan was stunned and sat.
"What I was saying, is that there is no excuse for fighting for whatever reason. And you, Miss Davies, have no right to judge anyone on his or her sexual preferences or behaviour. Bullying will not be tolerated at this school. You are both to report to the janitor every morning at 07.30 to help with… whatever she feels like not doing herself, for the next two weeks. We will, of course, also have to inform your parents."
Seeing their distraught faces, he added, "Be thankful because I didn't even make you shake hands and if Mr Watson was handing out punishment he would have suspended you."
"Now, Miss Davies, you're starting to smell, so go take a shower. Miss Edwards, your turn to see Dr Watson."
Then he straightened his jacket and walked out of the changing room, leaving the two girls behind on the bench.
Olivia took a moment to settle her mind. It was remarkable how that man could switch roles so quickly and seamlessly. He took her breath away.
Joan's sneering voice brought her back to the room.
"Move, Edwards, or are you hoping I'll take my clothes off in front of you?"
Olivia grabbed her bag and hurried out.
"Hop onto the table for me please. It's only your ribs, isn't it?"
"Yes."
John stood next to her while she got on, just in case it hurt too much and needed help. She looked better than Joan in terms of injuries, but John knew he needed to be careful. When she was seated, with her legs hanging over the side, he stood in front of her.
"Ok, let me take a look at that bruise first, and then I'll disinfect your lip and those scratches."
I should really hire a nurse, John thought. It didn't feel right to be examining pupils and to be their head of school at the same time. Right now however, there was no other option available. He gave her a smile that he hoped didn't show his worry about her.
"Could you lift your shirt a little bit for me?"
Without hesitation she revealed the bruised area for him and he gently pressed his fingers, examining the three ribs one by one. While he did so, he kept an eye of her face, which frowned and tensed at the second one.
"Does that hurt?"
She nodded.
"What about here?" He pressed lightly on the one below.
Another flinch and a nod.
Two out of three, then.
"Alright, I'm going to listen to your breathing."
He picked up his stethoscope and placed it at the top of her breast.
"Can you breathe deeply three times?"
He watched her ribs move while he listened.
"Congrats, nothing broken, but you bruised two ribs. I'll give you some painkillers for that."
She let her shirt down and he turned to get some antiseptic and bandages.
"Your lip looks pretty clean but I'm going to treat it anyway to be sure. Just don't talk or move your head ok?"
He cleaned up the cut and put a small patch on it to prevent it from opening too much. Then he moved on to her neck. The deepest scratches were at the back, where Joan seemed to have tried to grab onto her with her nails, leaving little half-moon dents. He leaned Olivia's head forward so he could reach it more easily, creating a strange type of embrace. She found his gentle touch and careful explanations comforting.
"This might sting a bit."
She didn't flinch when he started disinfecting the scratches.
"I hope you had a good chat with Mr Holmes. I trust he told you that engaging in physical violence at this school is completely unacceptable. I would have you suspended if it wasn't for the fact that Joan was being rather homophobic in her remarks. I will call your father this afternoon to tell him what happened though."
"Do you really have to?" Olivia asked in a small voice.
John leaned back a bit and looked at her sad expression. It was hard for him to believe this girl could be violent.
"I do."
He regarded her downcast eyes for a moment.
"Olivia, look at me." She did. "I know it's not easy to feel like you're different than other people. They might try to hurt you when you're vulnerable. I want you to promise that you won't try to resolve it this way ever again. It doesn't work in your favour. And if you ever have a problem or questions about this kind of thing, you can always tell me. Understood?"
She nodded, and he leaned forward again to continue. He dabbed while he continued softly talking. She relaxed and now fully rested her head on his shoulder.
"Mr Holmes has more experience with these sort of things than I do, actually, or Mr Brook, but if you want to talk you can always come by and we'll sit down and have a cup of tea." He grabbed a bandage and placed it over a particularly deep scratch. "That's one of the perks of being the head, you get tea and biscuits whenever you want."
Finished, John tugged her shirt back over her shoulder and smiled.
"All done. You can p-"
Olivia had fallen asleep, with her head still resting on his shoulder.
For a moment John was stunned, but then slowly raised his arms and wrapped them around her shoulders in a protective hug.
No Lestrade or Brook, but John made up for it I hope...
Please send me a Christmas gift... you know exactly what I love ;)
Until next time!
