A/N Part two! Let me know what you think and part three will be up soon :)

Laying on his bed in his baggy pajamas Sherlock closed his eyes and started to day dream about John for the 3rd time today. It was strange the power the smaller boy had over him, no one else had ever captured his attentions so much as him. He wanted to study him, yet at the same time devour him and shag his brains out. He'd only ever had sex once and it wasn't how he had wanted being older enough to get into nightclubs on his own, he'd gone to one a few months ago with Mycroft. He'd met a boy there, well man more than boy. They'd hooked up behind the bins at the back of the club. It was painful, cold and down right nasty. Not really the best place for a young man to lose his virginity. But never mind that. He wondered if John had ever had sex, with a girl or a boy. Thinking about the delicious sounds that would escape his mouth if he were to ravish him to within an inch of his life. Without realising he had started stroking himself through his bottoms. Cracking open his eyes he looked down at the large problem that had formed in his pants from all these dirty thought. It wouldn't hurt just to indulge himself. He didn't masturbate often as he cared very little for anything sexual. But this, this time he allowed himself to be swallowed up by pleasure. To dive into a sweet sea of ecstasy. To think of John.

Picturing John in some tight red pants is what did it. His crisp and lean footballers body with tanned skin and light blonde hair. The way the fabric clung to every inch of him and left nothing to the imagination. And then he ejaculated all in his pants like a dirty teenager. He sat still for a few moments letting the haze of orgasm drift away. He couldn't recall ever coming so hard in his life. Sherlock removed his sticky hand from his underpants and wiped it on the towel he'd left on the floor. Getting up to change his boxers and pajamas he thought back to how cutting his arm felt similar to that.
After pulling on the fresh clothes he kept glancing between his blazer, where the key was and the drawer. He knew he shouldn't, not again. But it felt so nice. After all he had been stupid today. Pulling out the key quicker than he intended he had got the box and was already sliding the sharp razor blade over his delicate skin. As the blood rushed to the surface in a frenzy of crimson ribbons he groaned. He knew he deserved to hurt.

It was the early hours of the morning before Sherlock had managed to shut his brain up. He kept turning over and thinking whether he should text Greg and tell him he'd like to spend lunch with him, John and Molly. But what if John thought he was some kind of freak. Obviously he wouldn't tell him about the cutting or eating problems. He would just sit there and converse like a normal being and eat whatever the school canteen passed for food. If he ever wanted to get close to John he would have to appear as normal as possible, because John seemed like a very average and normal boy. He reached for his phone several times before finally convincing himself. He picked up the sleek silver touchscreen mobile from his nightstand and began typing the message. 'Hi Greg, it's Sherlock. If you aren't busy at lunchtime I'd like to take you up on your offer.'
He entered the number and tapped send. Taking a deep breath he replaced the phone and turned over to sleep, hopefully he would have got a response by the morning as he suspected Greg would be asleep by now. The football team had their first proper match soon, so the players should be getting lots of sleep to prepare for it.

Sherlock kept flicking his eyes to the clock every couple of minuets, the lunch bell was getting ever closer. He'd received a reply from Greg before school saying it would brilliant if they could all hang out. But the nearer it got to lunch time the more nervous he was becoming. What if John didn't like him. What if John laughed at him. He shook himself and tried to concentrate on his homework, he'd had a free period this morning. They had arranged to meet by the bike sheds and then head to the canteen. When the deafening ring of the lunch bell came Sherlock scooped his belonging up and shoved them hastily into his school bag and made a dash for the door, he wasn't going to be late for this. He slowed his pace as he was getting out of breath and quickly the sheds came into view. He perched himself on one of the bike racks and waited patiently for them to arrive. He'd been inspecting a cobweb in the corner of the shed when he heard Greg shout his name and wave like a mad person at him. Sherlock smiled and stood up adjusting his bag and blazer, not noticing that John was behind Greg.

'Sherlock, this is John.' Greg pulled the smaller boy out from behind him by his jumper, this time a large knit red one. He smiled widely at Sherlock and held out his hand. Sherlock gingerly placed his hand out in front of him and John clasped it firmly. 'It's great to meet you Sherlock.' The smaller dropped his hand and stepped back to look at Greg. 'So are we off inside or what because I'm chuffing freezing.' He looked back towards Sherlock who nodded furiously in agreement. They headed off back towards the canteen when Greg started to speak.
'It's a shame Molly was ill today.' He nudged John in the ribs and winked at him. 'Hey! quit it Greg everyone knows it's you that fancies her.' John shoved him lightly back. Sherlock felt himself blush and was happy that John and Greg had chosen to walk in front of him. But to his surprise Greg turned around to him while they waited to enter the canteen and asked him if he thought Molly Hooper was hot.
'Urrm it's hard to say really, she's pretty but not really my type.'He managed to stutter out, Greg shrugged and gestured towards his chest.
'I like em' with bigger knockers!' He elbowed John again, still gesturing to his chest. Which made John laugh and bat him around the head. When they entered the canteen the teacher at the door threw them some cautionary glances, as they made their way to the far back table.

Passing the food counter Sherlock's stomach rumbled but he ignored it. Sitting down at the table, he noticed the vinyl top was peeling and the chairs had profanities scrawled all over them. 'So i'm going to get something to eat do you guys want anything?' Greg asked. John nodded and handed him some money.
'Just some crisps and a ham sandwich please.' He said smiling. Greg looked at Sherlock as if to ask him the same question.
Sherlock stared at him blankly before stuttering turkey sandwich and placing 1.70 in Greg's hand. They sat in silence for a few moments until John coughed and turned to Sherlock.
'What A levels are you doing?' Oh god. He was smiling and lord was it gorgeous. He couldn't stop staring at his mouth, licking his lips he let out a short breath. 'Sherlock?' John questioned looking puzzled. Oh god. He was blowing it. The only time he'd got to spend alone with John, and here he was staring at him like a freak. Straightening himself up he told John the A levels he was taking just as Greg returned with their sandwiches. They both ripped into theirs whereas Sherlock took small measured bites. Greg and John started chatting about football, not a subject Sherlock knew much about or rather cared much about really. The only good thing in his eyes to do with football was the lovely young men in tight shorts. But whenever it seemed necessary he nodded and smiled.

He'd only eaten half of his turkey sandwich when the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. He had been so wrapped it in staring at John to notice and it made him jump. He bit his lip and blushed, hoping they hadn't seen but from what Sherlock could see they hadn't. As both of them had been avidly discussing a new film, which Sherlock had to see apparently. Throwing his sandwich in the bin they made their way to the exit. Sherlock felt the food churning in his stomach but resisted the urge to shove his fingers down his throat and throw it all back up again. Instead he waved goodbye to Greg as his lesson was the other side of the school and continued to walk towards the science block with John. 'I do Biology by the way.' John said he cheeks looking a little pink. 'Greg always takes the piss because of it, I wanna be a doctor you know.' Sherlock nodded. 'What do you want to do once you leave this place?' questioned the smaller boy. 'I'm not sure, maybe something forensics based possible police work.' Replied Sherlock with a large grin on his face. It was clear by the expression John was pulling that this had impressed him. 'So you're like really smart then, are you any good at maths?' They had stopped walking when John asked this. It was true Sherlock had done exceptionally well in maths passing the GCSE at age 12 and the A level at age 15. 'Yeah, somewhat good why?' Sherlock turned to look at John, the smaller boy was blushing again. He did look delightful with that tinge of pink about him. 'Because I'm failing.' He said quietly looking at the floor. Sherlock could hardly believe it, John Watson was asking for his help.

Sherlock had agreed to tutor him and John had given him his mobile number. 'Just text me when you're free and i'll work something out.' John said raising his thumb and smiling at him as he entered the Biology class room. The door closed with a soft click and he was alone in the corridor. For a moment he gazed at the scrap of paper in his hand. John's handwriting was awful, he could only just make out the numbers. Suddenly, realising he had Psychology not Chemistry he shoved the paper in his pocket and made a dash for the stairs. Panting he reached the top and checked his watch. 10 minuets late, great Professor Smith would have his head. Entering the room swiftly he was stopped by the voice of Professor Smith.
'Ah! Mr Holmes, you decided to join us I see.' Sherlock went to apologise but the Professor waved his hand in a signal for him to shut up and sit down. As a punishment for being late he was made to read the whole second chapter of the text book by the end of the lesson. Groaning he reluctantly got on with his task, but John wasn't too far from his mind either.

He spent the last period in the library, smothering himself in a large book on forensic science. He'd placed his mobile phone on the desk so he could check the time quickly, as the clock was obscured from this angle. Glancing over the top of the book he flicked his eyes over to his phone. Wondering if he should text John today and arrange something or wait until tomorrow, maybe the next day. He tossed the options over in his mind, while looking at a rather graphic photograph from the case study he'd been reading about. Coming to the conclusion that texting him tomorrow would be the best as it didn't appear too intense, yet not too blasé either. He smiled with half his mouth and brought his eyes back to the book. Now the task at hand was what to put in the message. Maybe he would start with a casual 'hello how are you'. Or maybe John was a 'hey' kind of guy, he didn't look like a 'hi' person. 'Hi' was too short and unfriendly for John. Yes, John favoured a warm greeting,
the sort of friend to everyone type.