John opened his eyes to an unfamiliar environment. Feeling frightened, he sat up quickly, causing a sharp pain to go down his back. He winced and grabbed his aching head. "Damn hangover…" he growled. The clock read 4:30 am.

John looked around. It was a simple room, just the bed and a desk. The walls were beige and the bed sheets were white. The only thing that was wrong was-

Sherlock. Sherlock was curled around his torso. John began sweating frantically as Sherlock opened up his adorable grayish blue eyes. They were so innocent and happy. "I can tell by the sweat beads on your forehead you're surprised and scared about your surroundings and that I'm in bed next to you. You see, last night after you kissed me you fainted and I took you to my house to make sure you were all right."

John was speechless, he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Oh," and Sherlock continued with a stoic look on his face. "We didn't have intercourse."

John fainted again.

….

John woke up in Sherlock's bed for the second time. This time it was 6:00 am. Sherlock was curled around John's torso. John smiled, he wanted to get up but Sherlock was cute when he was sleeping, like a little child. John curled up around Sherlock. I promise I won't let you get hurt again.

…

John went back to his flat around 12:00. He hoped his mother wasn't-

"Sweetie?"

-awake yet.

"Oh, hey mum." He smiled innocently giving her a peck on the cheek.

She didn't kiss him back. "You didn't come home last night…" she said.

She sat at the table, and crossed her legs. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, about to head upstairs when she caught his arm.

"I just want to know what happened!" she whined in a motherly way.

"I don't want to talk about it!" he screamed.

"Did you take drugs? Do the sex? Did you drink?"

"No!" he yelled.

"Oh my lord, you committed homicide, didn't you!"

"No mum!"

"Just tell me!" she wailed.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're tearing this family apart!"

"It's just you and me! We literally have no other relations!"

"I feel so far from you!" she sobbed. "I don't know who you are anymore!"

"I SLEPT WITH A MAN LAST NIGHT!" John screamed.

His mother stopped crying. "Oh." Then she smiled. "Just as long as you didn't get any poor girl pregnant!"

Then she walked into her room leaving John in shock.

…

The next day, John was walking through the park when he saw young Sherlock.

"Oh, hey Sherlock!" John called waving his arm.

Sherlock gave a small smile and waved hello to John who was running over to him. "Gotta love fall!" John smiled. Sherlock smiled, it was hard not to considering how happy John usually was.

"Want to go get some coffee?" John smiled, tilting his head to the side. Sherlock was hypnotized by his smile for a few moments, when something felt unusual in his chest.

Sherlock nodded and he and John set out for the shop. "So, thanks for saving me last night, mate."

"Well you would have gotten killed by that brute if I didn't come in and help you," scoffed Sherlock.

"I was expecting a 'No problem,' but that works too!" John laughed. "Oh look! We're here!"

John and Sherlock stepped in and John ordered the drinks as Sherlock found them a seat. Soon John sat down, having a mocha frappucchino for himself and a regular espresso for Sherlock.

"Coffee goes back as far as the thirteenth century," said Sherlock taking a sip of his drink. "In the Ethiopian highlands, a Sheppard noticed his sheep where very excitable after they ate the beans from a coffee tree. He reported his findings to the local monastery, and they made the beans into a drink and drank it. They discovered the drink kept them awake all throughout their evening prayers."

John was dumbfounded. Sherlock looked down a little, "Yeah, I know, I'm a smart ass little brat."

John shook his head. "No, Sherlock that was amazing!"

Sherlock looked back up at John, wondering if he was joking. "Really, because whenever I tell someone something like that they push me down or something like that, they make fun of me. Even the maids that work at my house laugh at me and call me a geek and a nerd."

John was sad for Sherlock, Poor kid goes through this every day, he thought.

"Well let me tell you something," John said leaning towards Sherlock. "They're just jealous of how smart you are."

"Y-you think I'm smart?" Sherlock smiled.

"Yeah! I could never tell someone about the history of coffee on the spot." John leaned back.

Sherlock's adorable, puppy-like attitude disappeared and turned into arrogance. "I don't just look at things like normal people. Like people might see you and just see a kid in a jumper. John, I look at you and I see a man who holds up his house, or apartment according to the state of your sweaters, they're shabby, passed down, and obviously poor looking even without all of the scratches. You also like to run rather than walk, telling by the slight tear in your pants but you decided to walk through the park today because your mother was probably mad at you for not coming home last night. She probably wouldn't have been as mad at you if she had other children to take care of, and since she didn't have any other children she could realize all of her fury upon you without having to worry about other children. Also, if you live in a flat, there wouldn't be room for anyone other than you and your mum. So in conclusion, I deduce that you live in an apartment, have no siblings, like to run, and that your jumper has sentimental value to you somehow, maybe it was your fathers?"

John was awestruck, again. "Ho-how did you know all of that?"

"I just guessed," Sherlock smiled, taking another sip of his espresso.

After he found his composure, John shook his head. "That's all right. But you got one thing wrong, I have a sister but she doesn't live with us."

"I don't expect to get everything right."

They talked a little bit longer then went their separate ways. As John waved Sherlock goodbye, Sherlock smiled and thought, John Watson, a kind, compassionate, all around great person.

While John had a different idea. Sherlock, the most amazing human being on the face of the earth.

…

It was Monday at the school. Same as always, except that no one even talked to John. They didn't bully him, they didn't idolize him. John felt good being a wallflower. Suddenly, Sherlock ran up to John. He was smiling and carrying… a bouquet of flowers? John was surprised as Sherlock came up to him, his adorable, innocent eyes full of happiness as he held out the flowers for John to take. "Here, John."

John was so happy, he was about to grab the flowers when he saw the looks of the other students. They were looking at him as if he was an alien. He could hear a few whispers:

"John and Sherlock, what fags!"

"I knew John was gay."

"I knew that the little brat was too!"

And the whispers just continued. John thought of his old school, the insults, the pain, how close he came to suicide. He didn't want to feel that pain, and Sherlock was there to absorb it all.

John knocked the flowers out of Sherlock's hand. Sherlock's eyes were full of surprise, curiosity, but most of all, pain. Sherlock was almost saying, "Why?"

But John wasn't done. "Did you think I was gay, you little faggot!? Why don't you take your flowers to someone who actually cares about you, if you can find anyone you little smart ass!"

Sherlock's sadness was through the roof, he was on the verge of tears, his cheeks were hot with embarrassment, and his eyes showed every drop of sadness that he had. But John wasn't done yet, he pushed Sherlock to the ground where he did start crying. He looked up at John, he was no longer the happy little kid with a bouquet of flowers, but the one who looked like and abused puppy left out ibn the rain.

Kids were laughing at Sherlock from all directions, he didn't even know he had emotions like this, but they were all bursting through, his stomach was churning and hot tears rolled down his face. He looked up at John. I loved you! How could you John?!" Sherlock ran out of the school sobbing.

John's gaze softened. He wanted to run after Sherlock, he wanted to apologize but Noah caught his shoulder. "Ha! What a little fag! With an ugly ass face like that, how could anyone like him?!"

All of the jocks laughed, John gave a few fake laughs as well, but he couldn't look away from the door, hoping Sherlock would come back.

…

It was Tuesday, and John wondered when the week would be over. Sherlock didn't come back to school the day before, he tried calling his house but no one answered. John couldn't sleep that night. He was even more worried when he didn't see Sherlock in his first period class. John sat in the middle row while Sherlock sat in the front. He always sat in the front. Sherlock had skipped a grade, so he was in John's grade. John wanted Sherlock to be there, he wanted Sherlock near him, he wanted to see Sherlock's curly black hair and feel the gaze of his sharp eyes. He wanted to hear Sherlock's voice. He wanted every aspect of Sherlock to be there, but he wasn't.

The teacher came in ten minutes late that day. She seemed distraught, and her voice was cracking slightly. "Students, I'm sorry to say this but you classmate Sherlock committed suicide yesterday."