A/N: Notes at the bottom.
By Valentine's Day, John is a ball of irritation. Everyone and everything is simply awful. His basketball team is severely slacking in talent, his dad is constantly angry with his English grade, and Sherlock won't freakin' put out, no matter how much John begs. John knows one of those things needs to be cut before he goes mad, and unfortunately the last is the most expendable since he knows his dad would never let him quit basketball.
"We need to take some time apart," John says one night while they're parked in his brand new car out in front of Sherlock's Victorian-style home.
"Apart?" Sherlock asks. "Sure, I guess. You have a game tomorrow anyway, so I guess I'll see you on Fri—"
"No," John stops him. "Some real time."
Sherlock frowns. "How long?"
John shrugs. "I don't know, Sherlock. I need some time…for myself."
Sherlock slowly nods.
"I still love you," John tells him.
"Alright," is all Sherlock can say in response.
John reaches over and strokes his soft cheek.
An entire week goes by without any contact. They pass each other in the halls without saying a word, John even delivers a file of papers to Thomas Holmes and denies seeing Sherlock when Thomas offers.
"Where's Sherlock been hidin', son?" Elizabeth asks over dinner.
John shrugs. "Dunno, Mama."
"You two have a fight?" James asks.
"No, sir. Just…takin' a break, that's all."
"All's well," James says. "Your English teacher came into the office and said your grade is slipping. Work on that, son."
"Yes, sir."
John picks at his food all through dinner. He hasn't been hungry for weeks, as a matter of fact he's been stomach sick in that time, too. He doesn't think much of it, though.
Elizabeth excuses herself for a bath after dinner, but John stays with his dad to talk.
"I know what's eatin' you, boy," James says.
John looks at him. "You do?"
"Sure. Ate at me when I was eighteen, too."
"What's that, sir?"
"Sex. Not havin' it is no way for a boy to live, especially now-a-days."
John blushes. He doesn't want to be having this conversation with his father.
"There's only one solution," James says.
John looks at him curiously, despite the fact that he wants to run away.
"Find some jane, son. Surely your sister's got a friend she can set you up with."
John makes a face. Like it's that easy, to just walk out and find some girl who will give him what he wants. Like sex isn't about love or about Sherlock.
But, John slowly realizes, it's not.
There's a basketball game the next day. It's the second to the last before baseball season starts, and John's eager for warm weather and to be able to play outside in the fresh air again.
John gets another English assignment back before school ends. There's a big, fat, red "D" on the top, and his teacher informs him that he needs to get at least C's on the last assignments on the year or else he might not get accepted into college.
John wipes the sweat from his brow on his t-shirt sleeve. "Yes, ma'am," he says.
She examines his sweaty, flushed face. "You alright, Watson?"
John clears his throat and wipes his forehead again. "Not feelin' so hot, ma'am."
"Maybe you should sit the game out this afternoon."
John shakes his head. "Nah, I'm fine."
She excuses him to go change for the game, and John slowly makes his way to the gymnasium.
He sees Sherlock on the way. He smiles weakly at the other boy, which makes Sherlock smile back. Sherlock goes over to John and walks with him to the gym, which is unusual this week, but it makes John happy.
"I heard your English grade is slippin'," Sherlock says.
"You heard right," John replies.
"I could…I could help," Sherlock offers.
John wipes a hand over his face. "I'll call you."
Sherlock chances a quick smile.
They're at the gym, so John pauses in front of the locker room door. "I'm sorry," he says, referring to having to leave Sherlock now. He wipes his nose on his shirt.
"You're ill," Sherlock observes. "You shouldn't play today. Go home and get some rest."
John shakes his head. "I'm fine."
Sherlock nods in acceptance. "Call me," he says.
John nods. "Sure."
Sherlock looks up at John, his large, round eyes sad. "I miss you."
John glances around to make sure they're alone, then he grasps the back of Sherlock's neck and squeezes. "I'll call you."
Sherlock nods again, then John disappears into the locker room.
Sherlock stays for the game. Normally he wouldn't, because basketball is even more dull than football and John isn't even the star of his team, but he sits in the stands with the other students and watches the game begin.
John misses his first six shots. It's out of character for him, usually John is a perfect shot nine times out of ten. He shakes it off, his teammates tell him it's alright, and the game carries on.
At the start of the second quarter, John in-bounds the ball from the visiting side of the court and dribbles it down to his basket. It's clear something is off, for John trips over his feet but catches himself before he falls. Sherlock sits up and watches with more intent, fearing something bad is going to happen.
John gets the ball down to his basket and tries to take the ball to the net on his own. He dribbles past a defender, then another, and when he goes for a layup, the third defender steps in front of him and fouls John so hard that he falls to the ground.
Sherlock stands to make sure John gets up alright.
He doesn't get up.
Sherlock stops breathing.
A teammate tries to pull John to his feet, but John's body slumps and the coach yells to get away from him.
Sherlock's heart stops.
"Call a doctor!" someone yells.
Sherlock has to sit down before he passes out.
At the hospital, the Watson's are told to let John rest. He's got a case of pneumonia, but he should be alright.
Sherlock ran across town to the hospital, so he gets there long after the Watson's are given a prognosis. "Should"doesn't sit well with Sherlock, so he stumbles back onto the waiting room sofa and clutches his chest.
"He's alright, son," James tells Sherlock.
Sherlock looks up at him and nods.
"You can see him," Elizabeth kindly says. "We went in, but you're welcome to go."
Sherlock nods again, then goes down the hall where he was instructed and finds John sitting up in a bed eating Jell-o.
John smiles when he sees Sherlock.
Sherlock practically runs to him from the door.
John holds his hand out and Sherlock eagerly takes it.
"I was so scared," Sherlock whispers, stroking John's hair.
John rubs Sherlock's free hand that is now resting on his stomach. "I'm fine, see? I'm alright."
Sherlock nods and kisses his forehead, then his nose, then his lips.
A/N: Don't worry. It ends up okay eventually. Just a lot of emotional stuff coming up.