Just a quick chapter. Thought I'd better add something, came up with this. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

Chapter Two:

John blinked repeatedly, trying not to fall asleep as his professor droned on and on about the majesty of… uh. Shit. What was he talking about? Glancing down at his notes, he was ashamed to see that he hadn't actually taken in anything his professor had said. Instead, he had drawn doodles of Sherlock all over the page.

Well, that isn't very helpful. Unless Professor Moseby wants an in-depth description of my stalker, I think I may have to ask one of the others for their un-Sherlock-ified notes.

Deciding that there was no way to salvage his notes seeing as it was almost the end of class, John took a moment to peek out the window, only to be greeted by the sight of a telescopic camera lens. He scowled as another photo was snapped before the camera was whisked away and replaced by the grinning face of Sherlock.

John rolled his eyes and turned away from the window, pointedly ignoring his stalker. This worked for about ten seconds before his traitorous curiosity got the better of him and demanded he return his gaze to the man outside the window.

Sherlock waved lazily and John had to restrain himself from waving back. Sherlock tapped his watch, and John frowned, looking down at his hand and realising that class was over. He looked out the window once more, but found that Sherlock had disappeared. Sighing, he got to his feet and started packing up, only to have his books whizzed out of his hands.

"Hey, give-" John began crossly, but stopped abruptly when he realised it was just Sherlock. "Oh, hi."

"Yes, hello." Sherlock replied, flicking through John's textbook on English literature. "Why does this book reference Harry Potter?"

"Because it's English and it's literature." John answered.

"Hmm."

"Don't you like Harry Potter?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not interested in reading things that have no relevance to my cases."

"What if it became relevant to one of your cases?"

"Then I will read it and pass judgement on it."

"So, about tonight."

"Is there a problem?"

"Well, I thought we were going…" John trailed off, looking around cautiously before turning his attention back to Sherlock, "housebreaking on Sunday."

"We are."

"So what are we doing tonight?"

"Hmm, not sure. I'd just prefer you be with me and not that harlot you made a date with."

"Excuse me?" A high-pitched female voice exclaimed. "Who are you calling a harlot?"

John gulped. "Sharon! Hi, um, I- I was just going to-"

"Who is this?" Sharon demanded, jerking a thumb at Sherlock.

"This is Sherlock, my… acquaintance."

"Really. Why is he calling me a harlot?"

"Because you are one." Sherlock interjected.

Sharon's mouth fell open and she turned to John. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that?"

"Er, Sherlock, I-"

"He agrees with me. Can't you tell? Just look at his socks!" Sherlock replied condescendingly.

"Does he now? Well, Johnny boy, you can just go fuck yourself!" Sharon yelled, turning and storming away.

John sighed. "Was that strictly necessary?"

"Yes. I had to make sure she didn't have a change of heart and come back." Sherlock pushed John's books into the doctor's arms, choosing instead to rifle through the man's bag.

"Hey, what are you-"

Sherlock snatched up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and strolled away, forcing John to follow him. "So, John, your regular routine dictates a walk through the park on your way to your apartment. Would you like me to walk you there?"

"What? No, no. I have somewhere else to be."

Sherlock turned a sharp 180 degrees, making John skid to a halt clumsily. "Where?"

"The recruiting office. I'm going to be applying for a position in the army."

Sherlock made an annoyed grunt. "Why?"

John frowned. "Because I want to."

"But why today? Why not next week? Or next month?"

"I can't afford to just keep going to college, Sherlock. Besides, I've got my medical degree. It's time I… It's time for me to move on."

Sherlock was silent for a moment, before giving a curt nod. "When do you have to be there?"

"Ah, two. But I'm going to go see Harry beforehand."

"Do you have to?"

"Well, yeah."

Sherlock let out an impatient sigh. "Fine. I'll walk you there, but I'm not sticking around."

John rolled his eyes. "You don't have to if you find it so dull."

"Nonsense. A walk by your side will give me a chance to observe you up close."

"I thought that was what the telephoto lens was for."

Sherlock grinned. "No, the lens is for documentation. Coincidentally, what were you drawing on your notebook?"

"You probably already know."

"I'd prefer you tell me."

John stopped in his tracks. "What am I doing? Seriously."

"Going for a walk to your brother's house."

"With my stalker."

"So?"

"People don't normally go for walks with their stalkers. And if they did, they wouldn't really know about it."

"Would you rather I follow you a few paces behind? Out of sight?"

"No." John replied immediately. "I'd rather keep you in my sight."

"Have you become that enraptured by my features already?"

"Shut up." John scowled.

"That wasn't a no."

"I'm not attracted to you, Sherlock. I'd just rather have you where I can see you."

"Why?"

"Because you're still a stalker who follows me around and takes photos of me when I'm not looking, which means that there is a possibility of you becoming violent and trying to kill me or so on." John recited, continuing forwards.

Sherlock let out a dry chuckle. "Honestly, John, where did you get that titbit of information?"

"Internet."

"I should have guessed." Sherlock tutted. "John, do you know how many of the facts on the internet are wrong?"

"How many?" John sighed.

"All of them. Well, most of them anyway. I do have to account for my own website."

HFTS: I have no idea what I'm doing.