Hello again :)

As promised, the next two chapters today :D Thanks to all those who left a review or added this story to their alert list, it means a lot :)

And here comes the trouble, these two will be a little bit angsty, but it'll get better :) Enjoy!

(for those of you wondering, the story will be about 21.000 words long)

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

A/N: I'm not english speaking, but I hope this won't prevent you from enjoying the story.

The next day John made his way to their bench a little more slowly than usually. He hadn't seen Sherlock since yesterday, and frankly, he dreaded their next encounter. As far as he could remember, he had never rejected Sherlock when he had offered to comfort him before.

Of course he hadn't meant to snap at him, he hadn't meant to hurt him. While his brain was trying to convince him that he had every right to be cross from time to time, his heart kept flashing him the look on Sherlock's face. And sure enough, guilt ensued.

When he finally arrived, he saw that Sherlock was already seated, a book in his hand. John quietly sat next to him, but when he noticed that his friend was ignoring him, he let out a deep sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean to be rude. I was just a bit upset."

"Yes, I know. It doesn't matter." His voice was unusually quiet. His face was expressionless and he never even looked up from the page he was reading.

John shook his head and snatched the book from his hands, snapping it shut. Sherlock almost jumped up in surprise and raised an eyebrow, finally looking up.

"I mean it, Sherlock. I'm really sorry."

"Yes. I know." He simply repeated. "And I forgive you. Now could I have my book back? I may have found something relevant to my experiment."

John searched his friend's face for any kind of deceit, but his eyes were perfectly blank. He sighed and gave the book back, even if he could feel something wasn't right.

There was something odd about the way Sherlock had spoken. He had been rude, cruel, very insensitive in the past, but never cold. Not to him. Yet his voice had sounded weirdly detached, neutral. And it made John's guts twist.

This time, John didn't try to put his feet on Sherlock's lap.

Sherlock and John were walking down the corridor in silence later that day. They still spent most of their time together, but something was off. John felt as if he had to evaluate everything he was about to say before actually saying it, and Sherlock only gave one-worded answer. At best.

John knew deep down that this was just temporary. He knew that Sherlock was just a bit sulky, that he would forgive him eventually. He just couldn't wait for this new phase to be over.

He only realized just now how much he had come to depend on Sherlock's friendship, at any time of the day, no matter what else happened. They were there for each other, they had been since the day they first met.

Now he felt more alone than he had in years. More alone than during summer vacations when he was stuck at home with a drunk Harriet. More alone than when he had waved his parents goodbye on platform 9 ¾. He couldn't stand it anymore. John let out a deep sigh.

"Look, Sherlock…"

"Hey, John!" Greg interrupted him, nonchalantly placing a hand on his shoulder. "I hear you've got yourself a date with Sarah Carson! About time, I'd say!"

John closed his eyes for a second. "Listen, Greg. I really don't…" When he opened his eyes again, Sherlock was gone. "… wanna talk about it…" His voice had gone so quiet that even Lestrade would have picked up on it.

John could have sworn he'd seen a flash of remorse in his friend's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Fine. Are you ready for the game next Saturday? You know who you're up against, right?"

John felt like Greg was forcing his cheeriness, but he didn't feel like doing the same. "Yeah, I know. You have a very good team this year." He half-smiled and felt Gregory tap his shoulder before quietly walking away.

It only took Greg a few seconds to find the person he was looking for. He grabbed his arm and hid them both where he was sure no one could hear them before sighing.

"You were right. Of course you were."

"When will you admit that I'm always right?" The other smirked.

"Not now, Mycroft. Something's definitely wrong. What are we going to do?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. Yet." He sighed. "We'll have to let him figure it out for himself."

John entered the Great Hall and noticed – as he had expected – that Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Since he didn't usually eat and that he was certainly not planning on talking to John this evening, he had no reason to be here.

He sat at the Gryffindor table and shoved food onto his plate. He wondered where Sherlock was, what he was doing, if he was really mad. How long would it take for him to realize that John was sorry? He had apologized after all. Maybe he should let him sulk it out…

"John?" Hermione's voice pulled him out his thoughts and he realized that he'd been holding his fork in mid-air for at least five minutes now.

He blinked furiously before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I was just wondering if you were okay. You seem a bit… off today."

"I'm fine." John waved it off. "It's just… I haven't been very nice to Sherlock and now he won't talk to me. I don't know how to make it right."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I'm sure he'll come around. I also heard you had a date this weekend?"

"What does this have to do with anything?" John frowned.

Her face dropped a little but she recovered quickly. "Nothing. I was just wondering if you were excited."

"Yeah. Absolutely." He knew he couldn't even have convinced himself. The truth was, he was sick with dread. He had gone on a few dates in the past, had even kissed a few girls. But somehow, things never worked out.

"I just hope I can make up with Sherlock before this weekend."

Hermione rubbed her hand over his and gave him a warm smile. She spent the rest of the evening deep in thoughts.

The weekend had finally arrived and John still hadn't found the time to talk to Sherlock. Between his homework, his Quidditch practice and Sherlock's skills when it came to avoiding him, he really hadn't had much of a chance.

He tried to push these thoughts to the back of his mind as he walked towards Sarah. She really was rather beautiful. She wasn't vain in the least and that was part of her beauty. She didn't try to charm, she just did, naturally.

"Hi."

"Hi."

John gave her a smile even though he felt like throwing up. He swallowed hard and took her arm with his, setting off to Hogsmeade in silence. Was he supposed to say something? It sure felt like it, this was all a bit awkward.

He had never thought of himself as one of those weird kids who couldn't chat with others naturally. But right now, he couldn't think of anything to say. Was it appropriate to talk about her future plans? Or about school? Did she want to talk about that sort of stuff?

It was hard to tell. After all, he didn't know the first thing about her.

"So, how's Quidditch practice going? Do you think you have a shot against Hufflepuff next week?" Sarah finally asked in her soft voice.

John finally allowed himself to breathe and from that point the conversation flowed easily between the two of them, up until they reached Hogsmeade.

"Hello John." Sherlock had come out of nowhere and was now standing right in front of them.

The first feeling of relief John felt when he realized that Sherlock was talking to him again soon faded. What was he doing here? Now? John half-gaped half-glared at his 'friend' but kept his mouth shut.

But apparently this wasn't going to put Sherlock off. "I don't believe we've met." He raised his hand with the fake smile John only knew too well. "I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes, I know." Sarah answered a bit awkwardly, taking his hand in hers and glancing at John. "Sarah. Sarah Carson."

Sherlock released her hand and tried to appear as charming as he could. It would have worked on anyone but John knew his tricks too well to believe him. He was still mad, and he had found the most appropriate way to get his revenge.

"I noticed you were on your way to Honeydukes. I was just going there myself. You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

John shut his eyes, wishing the earth would just swallow him whole. However when he opened them again, he found that his wish had yet to come true.

"Er. No, why not." Sarah forced a smile but even John could tell she wasn't thrilled at the idea. To be perfectly honest, neither was he.

They started walking again, Sherlock right behind them, standing so close that John could feel his stare right through his clothes. He tried his best not to clench his fists and focused on Sarah. His date. He would deal with Sherlock later.

They entered the shop and John's hope that Sherlock would give them some space was crushed. He followed them everywhere. Sometimes making rude comments, sometimes just sneering at something Sarah said.

"Oh you should try these, they're delicious."

"John doesn't like them."

Sarah could not open her mouth without Sherlock attacking her, but John tried to remain calm, not wanting to make a scene. After they had bought every sort of candy imaginable, they got out of the store and Sarah scooped a little closer to John. He couldn't help but smile even when he could feel Sherlock glaring at them from behind.

"I'm a little thirsty. How does the Three Broomsticks sound?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John was almost sure Sarah could have heard it.

"That sounds perfect." John answered, tightening his grip on Sarah's arm.

"I'd kill for a butterbeer."

"John doesn't drink." Sherlock said coldly.

John glared at Sherlock, knowing only too well what the Ravenclaw was getting at. And this topic was off-limits, he knew that. Sherlock simply shrugged and followed them into the pub, sitting at their table.

"I'll just be a minute." Sarah said before going to the loo.

As soon as she was out of hearing distance, John smashed his fist on the table, making Sherlock look up.

"What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything. I just felt like spending a little time with my friend."

"Don't give me that crap Sherlock!" John almost yelled, drawing a few gazes in their direction. "You've been avoiding me all week! You could have waited a few more hours! You're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock simply answered as calmly as if John had been reading his shopping list.

"I'm serious, Sherlock, dammit! You can't just come with me when I'm on a date! I was really having a good time before you showed up!"

"I can't see how you could have. She's plain, and tedious, and boring. She's just so normal!"

"Well, maybe normal is better from time to time!" John had lost it, he knew it even before the words left his mouth.

Sherlock went rigid, his face going a bit paler than before. His expression was perfectly blank but John could read between the lines. His jaw was clenched, his whole posture completely stiff. Sherlock looked away for a few seconds before hissing:

"Fine."

He got up and went for the door. Without knowing exactly how or why, John followed him, grabbing him arm before forcing Sherlock to look at him.

"You can't just follow me everywhere, especially when I'm on a date!" Sherlock didn't move an inch. "You don't own me, Sherlock!"

"I know." He finally whispered before turning on his heels, heading back towards the castle.

John just stood there for a moment before taking a deep breath and heading back inside. He found Sarah sitting at their table and he sat back next to her.

"Where's Sherlock?"

John forced a smile. "He's gone."

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was quietly reading by the fire when she saw her owl by the window. She quickly rose from her seat and let her in, grabbing the little piece of parchment she had brought with her, unfolding it to reveal two words she instantly understood:

Astronomy Tower.

She gently stroked her owl's feather and sent her to the Owlery before rushing out. She shoved the piece of parchment in her pocket and ran her way to the Astronomy Tower. A few minutes later, she found a skinny, dark figure sitting on the floor, their head buried in their knees.

She approached her friend carefully, dropping to her knees right behind him before circling his shoulders with her arms. She placed her chin on his left shoulder and buried her nose in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay Sherlock…" She whispered after a few minutes.

She tried to soothe him as best as she could, knowing only too well what must have happened. Boys could be so thick sometimes…

After what felt like an hour, she dried off the tears Sherlock hadn't noticed he'd been shedding and placed a soft kiss on his temple. "Do you want to be alone now?"

The Ravenclaw simply nodded, putting his hand on top of Hermione's as a thank you. She rose to her feet and headed for the door. "Anytime, Sherlock."

As soon as he was alone, Sherlock reached for his pack of cigarettes and lit one, savoring the sensation he'd been craving for all the past few weeks. He rarely allowed himself to smoke in the castle, but he felt quite sure that this situation could count as an exception.

He silently hoped that Filch wouldn't come here on his round. All he really needed right now was to be left alone.

John woke up in a foul mood the next morning. He didn't need much skill at deduction to know that Sherlock would be avoiding him again. As much as he wanted to convince himself it was just as well, there was always a little part of him that wanted to forgive him.

He truly loved Sherlock. For his qualities and his flaws. Even if his flaws included acting like a five-year old sometimes.

However he couldn't just run up to him and make things right again. If Sherlock couldn't understand what he had done wrong, then it was no use trying to explain it to him. Somehow he felt it was okay to be at war with Sherlock for the time being, because he knew they couldn't stay apart forever. They would talk again, and everything would be back to normal. Just not yet.

He quickly took a shower and dressed before heading out of the common room. The hallways were very quiet, after all it was Sunday and most students were still asleep. However the relative silence of the castle only served to make hallway conversations sound louder than they actually were.

John could hear whispers at the end of the corridor and his feet moved of their own accord. These voices sounded… familiar somehow. However, he couldn't make out what the two students were saying or who they were. He stopped dead in his tracks and quickly hid against the wall when he finally saw who the silhouettes were.

Gregory Lestrade shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't." He whispered before turning away, leaving Mycroft alone in his wake.

John leaned against the wall a little bit and saw something he could have had nightmares about. Mycroft's expression was so openly sad it was difficult to imagine him in his usual business stature. There was something broken about the way he stood, the way he ran his hand through his hair and the way he was staring at the empty space in front of him.

John decided he had seen enough and walked away as quietly as he could, a million thoughts running through his head. Since when did Mycroft feel anything? And more importantly, since when did he show these emotions?

He shook his head and tried to delete these pictures from his mind, knowing all along that he would never be able to.

John entered the Great Hall a few minutes later and sat at the Gryffindor table without looking up once. However, he made sure he was facing the Ravenclaw table… just in case Sherlock decided to come to breakfast.

But of course, he wasn't there. John sighed into his breakfast and started chewing absent-mindedly. Sarah came in ten minutes after him and came to sit next to him. She gave him a warm smile and John did his best to smile back. He wasn't sure he could though.

Then Hermione took her place almost right in front of him. He nodded to her but she didn't respond, she simply tilted her head to look at the Great Hall doors. John followed her gaze and nearly dropped his fork at the sight.

Mycroft and Sherlock were walking in the room. Together. But that wasn't the most shocking piece of information the scene provided. Mycroft's expression was perfectly calm again, there was no trace of his previous breakdown. Worst of all was Sherlock.

He looked so pale John might have mistaken him for a ghost had he not known better. He looked as if he hadn't eaten in days and not slept in weeks. John felt his chest tighten at the state of his friend. He had seen him yesterday and hadn't noticed anything…

Sherlock sat down and refused to look at him, not that John had expected something else. But Hermione kept glancing his way as if he was Voldemort himself, and even without turning back, John could feel Mycroft glaring at him through the Hall.

He knew Sherlock seldom ate or slept as a matter of principle, but somehow he felt he was responsible. Mycroft's stare wasn't helping. His previous anger began to fade as guilt arose. He couldn't take it, not now. Because if he didn't leave soon, he just knew he would end up running to the Ravenclaw table to hug the sodding bastard he called his best friend.

And he couldn't. Not yet. So he slowly got up, and left the Great Hall with as much grace as he could muster under the circumstances.

I don't know about you, but at this point in the story I want to knock their silly heads together :)

Take the time to review, honestly, you can't begin to imagine how glad I am to have feedback :) Next chapter coming up!