Hi fans of the Academy! Sorry I never do Author's notes, I always forget :P Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed! All of you are so awesome! I hope you like Chapter 4!

…..

John couldn't breathe. He felt everything falling. Nothing was aligned, nothing was right. The world was spiraling out of control and only Sherlock could stop it, but he was dead. John didn't realize he was screaming, everything was already loud in his mind. He couldn't feel the hot tears flood over his face and hair. The students looked concerned, and the teacher ran towards him, but he didn't notice. He felt the teacher's hand on his shoulder as she tried to lead him, kicking and screaming to the nurse's office. Suddenly everything was still and silent. John could see the astonished faces of his classmates. The awful statement rolled back around in his head: Sherlock Holmes is dead.

John fainted.

…..

John felt like he was floating through space. Everything was black and silent, it was so peaceful. John just kept drifting, but he felt so alone. A bright, blue light pierced the darkness. John wanted to run towards it, it felt so comforting. As he reached the light, he realized that Sherlock was standing right in the middle of it. John had no idea how to feel. He wanted to tell Sherlock how much he missed him, how much he loved him, how stupid it was to commit suicide. But John found that his throat didn't work.

Sherlock smiled at him, seeming to sense his loss of words. Sherlock put his hand up to John's cheek, John quivered as Sherlock came closer and pressed his lips against his. It wasn't rough, but it felt… Nice. John desired everything about Sherlock, he wanted Sherlock to be by his side at every moment.

It was weird, how could all these emotion flood in with one kiss? Did it all start when he took Sherlock to the coffee shop? When Sherlock saved him? When he had to punch Sherlock? John didn't know, but his thoughts stopped as Sherlock gently pulled away. "Wake up, John." He smiled.

John's little world was falling apart, the blue light faded as Sherlock was pulled back by his subconscious. John tried to run after him, but his feet were stuck to the ground. He gave out a last scream for Sherlock before he awoke.

…..

John awoke with a gasp. His mother was sitting beside him, stroking his hair. "Hey, sweetie." She sighed.

"Hi, mum." He mumbled, coming to.

"We're going home." She said simply.

"Okay."

His mother helped him up and took him to the car. John looked out the window to see the jocks laughing. How dare they, John thought angrily. John wanted to be angry, but he started crying. Sherlock Holmes, I've only known you for a month, how can you take my heart then smash it?

"Sherlock's funeral is tomorrow, you can go if you want."

"I don't want to."

"Why not? You slept with him after all."

"Mother!"

"Sorry!" she laughed.

John smiled for a second. "But why Sherlock?"

"The worst things happen to the best people, hun."

"Sherlock wasn't a good person. He was a stuck up brat." John mumbled laying his chin on the window.

"Awful way to think of the deceased" his mother scoffed.

"He may have been a smart ass, but he was brilliant," John said.

"Yeah, his mum and I are in a book club together," She said. "I doubt she'll be there today."

"Why tell me this now?"

"It seemed like the right time."

They were both silent until the parked the car and stepped out. Sherlock, thought John sadly, please don't be dead.

…..

John woke up early the next day. It didn't really matter though; he knew his mom would let him skip school. He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. "I never thought the history of coffee would turn me on, you ass." John smiled.

John got up, shortly after his one sentence conversation with his dead best friend. He poured himself a cup of coffee and made himself two scrambled eggs. He sat down in the dark kitchen and ate in silence. "What do I do now?" he mused. He decided to go on a quick jog to clear his mind.

John ran blindly through town, passing friends and people without a care, he just had to run. Trying to clear his mind failed, everything he saw reminded him of Sherlock. The clothing store had a long trench coat like Sherlock wore, a coffee shop he passed reminded him of the history of coffee, a picture of a rich man reminded John of Sherlock's wealth. How can I know so little about him yet know so much?

John kept his tears inside, giving himself a sore throat. I want to know more about you Sherlock.

John gave up running and walked home.

…..

By the time John got home, his mother was awake in the kitchen, watching TV. "Hi John, I'm just watching the tele', want to join me?"

John ended up being roped into a soap opera marathon. After a few episodes, his mother took a sip of tea and spoke. "Sherlock's funeral starts in an hour, I think you should go."

John looked at his mom with wide eyes and sighed. He got up reluctantly and walked up to his room, where he put on a suit and tie. His mother drove him to the funeral shortly afterwards, and dropped him off for Sherlock's funeral.

John looked around; he couldn't believe all of the maids and butlers beside the couple and boy a few years older than John. They were Sherlock's family. He was appalled at the behavior of the staff. They were drinking, smoking, and laughing when the family wasn't looking. One butler went up to the family and gave a sincere apology, then ran back to a group laughing.

John was horrified at their behavior. Soon all of them left and it was just John st6anding over his friend's grave. He was surprised to see Sherlock's brother run back. "Sherlock's a sociopath you know, the only emotion he showed was when he talked about you."

Then came what John was expecting, the boy punched John in the face. "I will never forgive you for what you've done, John Watson."

John lay on the ground as the boy walked away. I deserved it… I did this to Sherlock.

John spent a few more minutes sitting by Sherlock's grave when someone horrible walked over.

"Grieving your boyfriend, fag?"

Noah pushed John's face into the dirt.

"Careful Noah!" said another jock, "He might through a tantrum like he did this morning!"

All of the jocks laughed when a horrible thought came to John's mind. It wasn't just me, these bastards caused most of Sherlock's heartache, these boys hurt Sherlock in so many ways and they persuaded me to do so as well. I will never forgive them for what they've done.

John got up quick as a bullet and punched Noah in the nose. The jock tried not to scream but John could hear an inhuman noise come from Noah. He grabbed his nose where blood was gushing out. Another jock tried to throw a punch at John but he avoided it and kicked the attacker in the groin and stomach, leaving him wailing on the ground. John was involved in the fight. Pure hatred for these boys ran through his veins. Clouds rolled in and thunder and lightning flashed through the sky.

Noah got back up but was pushed back down by John again. John then hovered above Noah, punching his face so hard that John could hear his cheek bones crack. John slammed Noah's head into the ground repeatedly, until blood gurgled up from his mouth. The other jocks pulled him up and punched him repeatedly; John was no match against five other guys. He threw sloppy punches but the others ended up beating him to the ground. John wanted to run away, but they had him pinned to the ground and they were kicking and stepping on every part of John's body.

Everything felt sore and numb. The pain became worse, yet easier to handle. John's voice was too tired to scream. He tasted a metallic liquid and realized that he was choking on his own blood. He couldn't breathe, his lungs hurt worse than any other part of his body. He could feel himself slipping. I guess I'll see you soon, dad.

John saw his life flash before him as the jocks kept using him as a punching bag. He saw his young childhood years, when he played with other children. His parents would lift him up by his arms and put him down again, it was a fun little game. The years passed by, a happy little life with birthdays, friends, cake, and fun. Then John started school. His school years where okay until Secondary School, the boys in his class started teasing him, then it just got worse and worse with mean words written on his locker, endless beatings in the hallways, girlfriends who just wanted to break his heart.

John was about to commit suicide when his mother caught him and sent him to Howard Barrington Preparatory Academy. Then his memories of Sherlock, Finally his flashback ended with a boot hitting him in the forehead, cracking something. He could feel himself blacking out, when all of a sudden he could hear a gunshot and the kicking stopped. A familiar face loomed over him. "Sh-Sherlock?"

"John." Sherlock said stoically.

John wanted to say more, but the extreme loss of blood caused him to black out.