Sorry for not uploading faster, I started this fic at an awkward time for me with finals and projects and my spring sport starting. I haven't had a lot of time for free writing. But enough words from me, onto chapter two!
The next day, Sherlock woke up and rolled off the bed. He picked up the scrap of paper with John's number on it and bit his lip. A friendship and a risk, or ignoring the one person who doesn't hate him to prevent a maybe. To prevent infinite maybes. Because maybe John had a thing for Sherlock and maybe it was just pity. Maybe he just wanted to be friends, maybe John wanted to exploit him, maybe John would lose interest, maybe they would stay together until the end of the year and maybe they would never be anything. The world was full of maybes, there was no way to avoid them.
Sherlock fell back on his bed with a huff of irritation. He closed his eyes and entered his mind palace. With all of these maybes floating to mind he needed some form or filter, a list. He ran through his halls, plagued by the constant "what ifs" floating around in his head. Memories, facts. He needed logic.
Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he gasped, surfacing from his mind palace. He remembered last night, the messages on tumblr. A friendship on tumblr, an anonymous relationship with careful questions and stories of his life. If he ever wanted to, he could reveal himself for John, he could come clean.
Sherlock stood back up and grabbed his phone, punching the numbers into John's contact along with his tumblr url. He opened up a new message and hovered his fingers over the screen before shaking his head, discarding the message he had yet to start. Instead, opting to open his tumblr, scrolling through John's blog.
A devoted bones fan along with house and fringe. Sherlock prefered lie to me and leverage. He continued to scroll. Just as he had suspected, John was studying to be a medical doctor. He was signed up to go into the military as an army doctor after obtaining his degree.
Sherlock scrolled for the better part of an hour before sending a message on anon. "How did your final go?". He sent before closing the cover to his laptop and changing his clothes he strolled out of the room to his next final.
Sherlock jogged down the stairs. Walking briskly he made his way across campus in the bitter cold. He was about halfway to the room when he heard a voice behind him.
"Sherlock!" The voice called.
Sighing slightly, he continued his pace, not breaking stride. It was probably another tormenter, one of hell's demons placed at this school specifically to make Sherlock's life miserable.
"Sherlock wait up!" The voice called again. This time his stride faltered only slightly. He heard footsteps pounding on the pavement and Sherlock braced himself for a shove or punch. He was pleasantly surprised to see a sandy blond head of hair bob next to him.
"Don't you know that when someone tells you to wait up, you shouldn't start walking faster?" The shorter man huffed, matching Sherlock's speed.
"I- sorry. Normally people don't tell me to wait up so we can talk." He stated blandly.
"The thing that happened yesterday, is that a normal thing for you?" John asked, concerned.
Sherlock nodded, there was no need to elaborate.
"Hey, next time anything gets rough or you feel threatened, just get in touch with me. Call, text, messenger pigeon, what ever. Just tell me and I'll be over there as fast as I can. You don't deserve the treatment they give you."
Sherlock nodded his head. "Thank you." He mumbled awkwardly. Sherlock desperately wanted to talk to John, he wanted to talk to John but he couldn't. The words wouldn't come out, he couldn't even think of something intelligent to say.
He continued like normal on the outside, keeping his cold detached shell engaged for the sake of protection. Inside, Sherlock was trying desperately to talk, say anything that would let John know how he felt. The man next to him continued throwing him off, he just couldn't focus. To make it worse, the "maybes" and "what ifs" began to creep out from the shadows of his mind. Seeking respite from the worldly onslaught, Sherlock set himself to autopilot. He began going deeper into his mind in an attempt to hide from it all. All the pointless questions and anger.
John chewed on his lip for a bit, looking at Sherlock. The man was a good four inches taller than John. He walked quietly beside Sherlock but it was easy to tell Sherlock wasn't entirely there. They way he walked, staring straight ahead and moving mechanically, he was detached and unresponsive.
"Sherlock." John prompted. He frowned, when he did not respond. Looking closer, John could see that Sherlock was breathing faster, his pace increasing. John matched his pace and tried again. "Sherlock!" he demanded. The man just kept walking faster. "Sherlock!" John half shouted, grabbing Sherlock's arm.
Sherlock was running through his mental halls, evading the thoughts and questions that plagued his mind. He gasped softly when he was violently ripped from his palace. Sherlock became acutely aware of his surroundings. The crisp air biting at his face, his semi-irregular breaths shattering the calmness around him, and the tight grip on his arm that shocked him back to reality.
He stopped in his tracks and turned back towards John. The smaller man looked at him carefully. "Sherlock," he said quietly, "What's wrong?"
Taking a careful breath, Sherlock smiled awkwardly and quickly replied, "Nothing. I'm fine John."
John narrowed his eyes. "Liar." he challenged, staring hard at his taller friend. "Tell me, please."
Sherlock shook his head and looked away. "You have a final John. My problems aren't important." He wouldn't bother John with his issues. If he was lucky, John would forget about this.
John looked hard at Sherlock and sighed. "Today then. Sherlock just talk to me, I only want to be your friend."
Sherlock turned sharply and bit his lip. "No, you really don't." He mumbled just loudly enough for John to hear before striding briskly away.