Sherlock's baritone voice moaned into John's ear. John shivered and turned to Sherlock, looking deep into his grey-blue eyes. Sherlock stared back with an intensity that John had never seen before. John reached out a hand and gently touched Sherlock's soft, messy curls. Sherlock smiled widely and pressed his face into John's palm. John kissed Sherlock's forehead, his eyes closing briefly. He leaned his forehead into Sherlock's, smiling softly at him. Suddenly, Sherlock leaned his head upwards and licked John's face from his jaw to his temple. John giggled softly, ignoring the erection pressing at his pants.

"John? John?" Sherlock's baritone voice sounded against John's temple, but when he looked to Sherlock the only thing coming out of his mouth was his tongue, as he painted heavily.

"Wh-what?" John sputtered confused.

"Open your eyes, John," Sherlock's voice prompted him.

"M-my eyes a-a-are-," John stopped as he realized his eyes were closed.

But he didn't want to. If he opened his eyes he would lose this beautiful dream of his puppy Sherlock. He firmly shook his head as he felt the blush creep up on his face. He sighed heavily and opened his eyes. Sherlock was staring at him concern. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock sleepily.

"You were, uh," Sherlock looked away from John for s moment, "Talking in your sleep."

"O-o-oh, s-s-sorry," John looked away and blushed harder, "Wh-what d-did I s-say?"

"You said," Sherlock paused, "You said "Ooh, Sherlock, you're such a good puppy." And "Oh, you silly puppy." And "Sherlock, are you giving me kisses?" and "That's good Sherlock, yes, very good. Goooood dog, yesss. Good Sherlock. Yessss." I just thought maybe you would want to wake up before you said any more…."

Both boys suddenly found every place but each other's faces very fascinating. John was working up the courage to speak or sputter out an apology. Sherlock was awkwardly trying to hide his prominent erection from a very flustered John. It had taken all of his sense of morality to wake John up. He could of spent the rest of his life listening to John moan his name so sensually. He wanted to lay there and hear his name on those beautiful pink lips forever, but he knew he had to wake John up. He knew it was wrong to allow such a thing.

"S-s-s-sorry," John said tearfully, "I-I'm s-so s-s-so s-s-sorry. Y-you m-must b-be so e-embarrassed."

John squirmed away from Sherlock. He had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. All he wanted to do was run and hide and die. He managed to slither off the bed and make it to the bathroom. He closed the door and buried his face in his hands. I am so stupid. I am so so stupid. What did you think, subconscious that he would love it and want you? You are so so so so stupid! He's a goddam vampire, you idiot. He rubbed his face and went to the sink. He splashed some water on his face and scrubbed it a bit before drying his face on the hand towel.

John checked the time on his phone and realized he had very little time before classes started. He put the seat down on the toilet and sat down to clear his head, though it was completely void of any thought. Meanwhile, Sherlock was still lying in John's bed, wondering why he should be embarrassed. John said I must be embarrassed. Why would I be embarrassed? Oh. Did he feel my…? Sherlock didn't think he could pale any further than he already was. He was a vampire for Pete's sake; you can't get much paler than that. He slowly untangled himself from John's sheets and stood, rather shakily. He fingered the dog ears hanging over his forehead.

He felt something hot on his cheek and decided to ignore the liquid trailing down his face. He grabbed his bag and stuffed some of the books of his desk in it. He grabbed a notebook off his bed and hurriedly ran to the door. He stopped for a moment, remembering John and rushed to the bathroom door. He knocked softly.

"Are you ok, John?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Yes," John's voice was muffled by the door.

"My number is in your phone," Sherlock pawed at the door softly, "If you need anything, call me or text me. Anything, John. It doesn't matter what it is, ok? I have to go for a bit. I won't be in class. I-I have to go figure some things out."

Sherlock paused, waiting for a response. John wasn't sure what he wanted to hear. He didn't know what he wanted to say. So he just stayed silent. Sherlock took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the door.

"My body reacted in the way that it did," Sherlock took another breath, "Because I love you. It's that thing. The Link. I have one with you. I don't know what all that means, except that I love you. I know it's only been a week and a half, but I love you. Sorry. I know that makes you uncomfortable. I'm really sorry, but I really do love you."

Before John had time to process what Sherlock had said to him, Sherlock had fled. John ran to the bathroom door and threw it open, only to find an empty room. He ran to the hall door, but couldn't see Sherlock anywhere. He knew there was no way he could catch Sherlock. It was hopeless. He just let the most amazing thing in his life slip through his fingers. I am utterly hopeless. I have got to find him.

Without a single thought to class, he quickly ran from his room, wondering where Sherlock would go. As he ran through the hall, he didn't see Sherlock anywhere. He had to assume he left the school. He did say he needed to figure things out. So I guess he would leave the school, right? John ran to the library, just in case, but saw that Sherlock wasn't there. He must have gone home….wait, where does he live? I don't even know where he lives! John smacked his forehead, trying to remember if Sherlock had ever mentioned home before. No, we've barely talked at all about him…John wished now that he has asked Sherlock more about himself.

He went to the exit and quickly slipped out of the school. Maybe he'll still be down the street somewhere. John frantically looked up and down the street, unsure of which way Sherlock would have gone. He hurried down the left side of the street just because he had no idea what he was doing. He found a payphone and quickly opened the telephone book hanging from it. He knew that it would probably be no help at all, but he fervently hoped that the H page of the book was not ripped out. He couldn't believe his luck as he spotted "Holmes" on the page.

"H-holmes, S-siger and V-violet," John whispered, "Th-that has g-got to be his p-parents."

He read the address and memorized it. He pictured a map of London in his mind and tried his best to think of how to get there. Once he got a vague idea, he started running toward what he saw as the most important thing in the entire world; he ran to his best friend, his love, and his puppy. He maneuvered the streets of London in what he thought was careful skill. Unfortunately, as he paused for a breath, clutching the stitch in his side, he realized he didn't know where he was. He looked at nearest street sign.

"M-m-m-m-melr-r-r-rose?" John sputtered in confusion.

Melrose? Where the bloody fuck is Melrose? John turned around and headed back the way he came. He looked at the street names, not recognizing any of them. He tried to picture is route again, but his hands were shaking from panic. He went down a street he thought was familiar, only to end up even more lost. He stopped at an alley and took some deep breaths. He looked up and down the street, but his vision blurred. He leaned against the brick building, hardly able to keep his mind calm.

"My number is in your phone. If you need anything, call me." Sherlock's sweet voice filled his ears.

He reached for his phone, which was thankfully in his pocket. Must have slept with it. John thought vaguely as he laughed nervously. His breath was coming in short pants and he was partly bent over, holding the stitch in his side. His fingers fumbled over the keys as he searched for Sherlock in his contact book. Finally he found the blissful name "Sherlock Holmes" and barked a laugh in triumph. He quickly hit the call button. It rang three times and then it clicked as Sherlock answered it.

"John?" Sherlock questioned.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh," John took a deep breath and calmed himself slightly, "Sherlock."

"I'm on my way," Sherlock replied and the phone clicked.

John brought the phone away from his ear and stared at it in confusion. I didn't even say what was wrong. John thought. He slowly closed the phone and slid down the wall. He still panted heavily, unable to catch his breath. He put his hand on his heart, willing it to slow its beating. It blatantly refused (it was a very defiant heart). He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He didn't know why and he couldn't explain it, but he was sure that Sherlock would be there soon. He knew without a doubt that Sherlock would find him.

Little Note: Hey, guys. I'm a little afraid that this is a bit rushed. I think it works good, but I would love to hear what you all think. So if I get enough saying it's too rushed, I'm going to go back and revise. If it's good how it is, then yay me! Anyway, thank you for all your support and love ya'll! I love you guys, you keep me going!