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About twenty minutes later, John turned into the dirt driveway of his friend's house, strange how he'd only been there one night and it felt more like home than anywhere he'd been for the past two years. John knew he couldn't stay there all the time though, intrude on Sherlock's family and household like an unwanted lonely pest. He saw Sherlock on the porch, waiting for him and smiled, a warm feeling filling his stomach. The walk was successful in clearing his head of intruding, unwanted thoughts and he was in a considerably better mood.

John almost skipped up the steps, but refrained and walked at a normal pace. Sherlock stood up and opened the door for John, whose morning kept getting better. When he walked into the kitchen, however, the atmosphere turned quiet and awkward. Sherlock's mum and brother were looking at him… sorrowfully? Pitiful? John noted the smell of freshly cooked eggs and bacon, and his stomach growled noisily. He flushed, embarrassed.

This broke the tension though and Mrs Holmes giggled and set a plate down on the table for John. "Are... Are you sure? You don't have to feed me," but the woman shook her head and gestured for him to sit down. John grinned thankfully and sat down, not taking any extra time to scarf down the meal. Sherlock joined him with a plate of slightly less food, and a little more composure. As soon as the boys were finished, plates scraped clean, Sherlock's mum cleared them and told the boys to get ready for school.

John watched Sherlock comb his sleep-tousled hair with fluid, repeating motions, he didn't know why it was so captivating. John, having already been packed and no need to change, explored the wonders of the internet on Sherlock's laptop while the other got ready. He was amazed at all the information and games you could interact with on the system. It really was quite extraordinary. Looking in Sherlock's search history, he found some normal searches and some odd ones.

Chemical formula for nitric oxide

John Watson

Cool napkin folds YouTube

Proper format of labs

How to get someone's attention

How to know if you like someone

How to know if someone likes you

Economic issues in countries

What was that about? Those searches (you know which ones) were from a week ago. They hadn't even talked. John continued to scroll before Sherlock, glancing at John in the mirror, noticed what he was doing and ran over to John, shutting the laptop with considerable force. His face was red- beet red- and damn if it wasn't adorable.

After that the boys picked up their bags and walked out in silence, both sorting through conflicting thoughts in their heads. Soon enough they arrived at school, walking into their first class Sherlock broke the silence. "Do you want to sit with me again?" He asked. Delighted, John occupied the seat next to his friend. "Hey, er, where's Molly?" John asked, curious where Sherlock's best friend had gone to. "Oh, she, uh, switched schools. Her parents don't like this school much." He hung his head, obviously sad from Molly's departure. "I'm sorry, she seemed like a nice person, wish I got to know her," John replied in a comforting tone. Sherlock just nodded and then the teacher started the lesson.

The class drawled on forever until finally, the bell sounded. John and Sherlock scooped up their belongings and padded out into the hallway. Instantly the jerks were onto John, their bulky leader in front and maybe 4 or 5 guys behind. "Hey hobo! Got another boyfriend?" Kissing noises followed the boys down the hallway. "John, you can't let them push you around," Sherlock whispered. "Just leave it Sherlock, its fine, I don't care anymore."

"You're such a loser, I can't believe you found someone actually willing to hang out with you… or… is he paying you?" Now the leader, stalky and tough, directed to Sherlock. "Oh my gosh, how much? What a loser, fag-" The bully's attack was cut off by Sherlock's fist connecting with his face. A moment passed before the blood started gushing out, and tough guy's companions crowded around their leader but he pushed them off. Blood dripping down his face and into his mouth, he spat viciously. "You're dead Holmes." Then he turned to John. "Got yourself a little bodyguard huh? Wimp." He wiped the blood from his lips and turned, stalking down the hallway, his posse trailing behind him, occasionally turning around to throw insults or obscene gestures.

John turned to his friend, "Why'd you do that? You could get in trouble! Those guys… they'll hunt you down, they have blades… and… oh god, Sherlock, they'll hurt you!" John didn't realize he was grasping Sherlock's arm until the latter looked down at it. John dropped his hand and put his face in them instead. "Don't worry about me John, I'll be fine." Sherlock replied calmly. John sighed and turned away from Sherlock, quickly pacing towards science class.

After school had finished, John left before Sherlock could find him. He didn't enjoy the walk back today, he wasn't headed home. He was headed to the underground 'spot' he designated his. All John wanted to do was turn around and find Sherlock, go home with him, maybe watch a movie and drink hot chocolate. Outside the air was chilly and the wind biting, but warm fantasies kept John at an acceptable temperature.

John unlocked the trapdoor with the key he always kept around his neck and pulled out his work uniform, dusty and dirty from being on the compacted dirt floor for so long. John went to Angelo's, spoke with his boss about cutting his shift down to 2 hours, no breaks, and worked his agreeable shift. John went out the back of the restaurant, closer to the trapdoor. John threw his uniform in and looked out the alleyway, there was a glint, an object reflecting light a few feet in the alley. Probably broken glass, but curiosity got the best of John.

He locked his space and approached the object, it was a phone, and a recent scratch had been made, a thin hairline down the side of the screen. John choked. It was Sherlock's phone.