Maybe he should shower before he headed to the science lab. He probably should shower. But if he showered that would mean he would be late. John weighed his options. Which would make Sherlock angrier: smelly John or late John? He guessed late John. Smelly John wasn't going to attract the bright eyes and dark curls and pale skin and bow mouth of his teacher, but he reminded himself, he wasn't supposed to try to attract his teacher. John didn't even know if Sherlock liked boys. Or people at all in that sense.

He quickly sprayed what was probably too much cologne to mask his after-practice stench and headed towards the lab. Sherlock was already inside when he opened the door and walked in. The older man didn't look up.

"Get me a scalpel," Sherlock demanded immediately.

"Hello to you too," John grumbled as he walked towards the table Sherlock was working at. "The scalpel is right next to your elbow."

"Hi, John, hand me the scalpel."

"Sherlock, it's right next to you. Move your hand two inches."

"I'm busy."

Sherlock was examining something under a microscope. He made no inclination that he would pick up the scalpel himself.

"You're being serious, aren't you?" John asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I wouldn't waste my time with jokes."

"You're impossible," John complained, handing Sherlock the scalpel that had been easily within reach.

Sherlock grunted in response as he moved over to a tray and started slicing with the instrument.

"You're welcome," John tried, but Sherlock didn't bother with thank yous. John wondered if he had ever uttered the phrase in his life.

"Your cologne is rather overpowering," Sherlock commented.

"Yes, sorry. I just came from practice."

"I assumed so, based on the glistening of sweat on your skin and the... unpleasant stench you're attempting to mask."

John sighed. "You're always like this?"

Sherlock finally looked up. "Did I upset you?"

"Well you were being quite rude," John admitted.

Sherlock bit his lip. "I didn't mean it in a rude way. I was just observing."

It killed John to recognize the sincerity in his teacher's voice. He wanted to dislike this man, just like everyone else did. But he was inexplicably attracted to him. Lust, he told himself. But there was something oddly charming about Sherlock's naivety.

"It's alright," John heard himself say. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock motioned him closer. "Come look."

John peered into the tray. "Is that a..." His voice trailed off.

"A brain? Yes."

"A human brain?"

"Well, yes," Sherlock said as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

"You're casually experimenting on a human brain with a freshman student as your assistant?"

"Yes, John, do keep up."

"Why do I feel like this isn't something they normally let professors do?"

"Because it's not," Sherlock replied, exasperated with the questions. "Any other stupid comments you wish to make?"

"Sherlock," John warned, trying to tell him nicely that he was going too far with his remarks.

"Right, rude, sorry. This project isn't exactly approved by the school but I'm bored and I need something to do."

"What are you looking for?" John asked.

Sherlock raised his shoulders indifferently. "It's the brain of a cannibal. I'm just trying to find anything unusual."

"Oh," John said stupidly, because he wasn't quite sure what to say to that. "Find anything yet?"

"No, not really," Sherlock admitted. "This is getting rather boring, to be honest. Let's find something else to do."

"Uh... like what?"

Sherlock pushed the brain and microscope to the side and pulled off his rubber gloves. He hopped onto the table and sat, looking down at John with his long legs swinging off the side. "Well, John, what would you like to do?"

Various scenarios that John could never utter flashed through his mind. His palms were suddenly sweaty and his voice was caught in his throat. "I... uh... um... I should probably just go," he managed to spit out. "Game tomorrow. Should sleep and shower."

Sherlock sighed. "Rather mundane, I must admit."

"Do you have any better ideas?" John asked, trying to keep the desperate hope from seeping through his voice.

Sherlock smirked. "Yes, but you have a big game tomorrow. I wouldn't want to distract you from such an important thing."

John's face turned bright red as he tried to say a goodbye that came out as jumbled noises. He rushed to his dorm room and tried to relax his breathing, ignoring the strange looks Lucas was sending his way.

"What happened to you, man?" his roommate asked him.

John just nodded his head and headed to the shower, in desperate need to take care of the pressing demands of his body.

I promise I'm getting closer to the M rating. Review please!