The morning dawns, much too bright and happy to be tolerated and I open my eyes. John and I have taken to sleeping in the same bed, and he stirs with me. A moment later, the fuzz of sleep clears and we look at each other, internally groaning at the thought of what lie ahead. Today, this very morning, begins the new semester.

We got up, groggily, and attempted to dress presentably. We fixed each other's hair in what has become an almost overwhelming show of sentimentality, and head for the door, but John stops me.

"Sherlock," he says softly, the hour being too early for anything above a whisper, "I know that we haven't really talked about this, but what do you want to do about... us?"

"I assume that you are talking about either making our relationship general knowledge or not?"

He nodded.

"Then whatever you wish. But let me say this," I paused, "I will not be offended if you wish it to remain a secret, nor of you wish to out it. I know that if it is made public knowledge, things will only get worse for you. Rumours about me will only be confirmed, and I have learned to deal with the idiots among us."

John, opened his mouth to speak, quickly shut it, and then hugged me and we walked out the door.

The canteen was filling as we arrived. We got in line and John filled up his tray. I just followed him, not in need of any food this morning.

"Hey freak!"

John flinched, but I put a hand on his shoulder telling him to ignore it.

"Look, the freak cam out of his hole!"

We made our way towards an empty table.

Insults followed us.

"He didn't get anything to eat! What an anorexic freak!"

"He's following that guy, the stalker!"

"I bet they're fags!"

"Hey freeeeeak! Come over here!"

"What a loser."

We were only halfway to the table. "This is why I don't eat breakfast," I told John, smiling in attempt to reassure him. It didn't really help.

"Weirdo."

"Alien."

"Creep."

"Retard."

"STOP!" John yelled, placing his tray none too gently on our table. "THAT is ENOUGH."

Everyone stared at him. Including me.

Red in the face, John turned to me and kissed me square on the lips, in front of everyone.

And then proceeded to eat his breakfast.

I hate school. Not in the way idiots do, I don't fail things or fall asleep in class. No, I'm too smart for that. Too different. These thoughts race around my skull as school starts again. I had had, quite literally, the best winter vacation in my life. Thanks to John, I had a few weeks respite from the glares and taunts of my classmates.

But now we were separated as the day began. I'm in some obscure philosophy class that I have no patience for and I can barely stand the stares. All of them saw John and I this morning, or they heard about it via the infernal grapevine. My tolerance to their hatefulness has been lowered over the vacation and there is nothing to take my mind off of their thoughts. Their actions. Their poorly-concealed giggles.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so special.

Most times, I can control the bad thoughts. But not today. Oh how I wish I had control!

I'm a creep.

I'm a weirdo.

What am I even doing here?

I don't belong here, not with them.

I don't belong anywhere.

I want to be normal, I want to be sane.

I want to be OUT of this CLASS!

I was halfway out of my seat when the bell rang and subsequently the first out the door. I practically ran to where John would be, I had to see him. I had to gain some semblance of control back, get something to think about, ANYTHING.

John was at his locker when I stormed past. We made eye contact and I kept walking, shoving through students and teachers. I made my way down a narrow, rarely-used corridor with a few empty classrooms, trusting that he would follow.

I opened the door to a windowless, dimly-lit classroom and he shut it behind him a moment later.

"Sherlock!" he sounded out of breath. "What's all this about?"

I turned around.

"Ah," he said, "bad start?"

I would've replied if I could, but there was nothing rational to say. I was breathing a bit heavy, my eyes were too wide. My hair, I'm sure, a mess.

"Do you, er, want some privacy?" he stuck his thumb back towards the door. "I could go if ya want?" He sounded so unsure and my heart broke a little. My John thought I didn't want him here. Truthfully, he was all I wanted.

Before he starts to turn to leave I shrug off my rucksack and practically bound toward him to envelope him in a hug. He immediately hugged me back.

I don't know how long we stood there, but it would never be long enough.

We managed to part before out last two classes, which we had the good fortune to be in together. My internal strength was back and I didn't even register the stares or comments the rest of the day. Before I realized it, John and I were walking across the courtyard holding hands. Due to our looking at each other more often than what was a head of us, we managed to run in to Molly Hooper, knocking her books to the ground. John volunteered to pick them up, leaving Molly to awkwardly start a conversation with me.

"So, erm, I saw that thing that... happened today?" Molly had an awful tendency to make every sentence she utters sound like a question.

"Yes, and what of it?"

"Oh! Um, nothing! I thought it was really brave," she giggled. My god, she still had a crush on me.

"Thank you, Molly," said John. He handed her books back and asked her about Derek.

"Oh, he woke up yesterday! I'm so glad he did, the poor thing."

"Did he say anything about who did this to him?" I asked.

"Oh, on the case, are you Sherlock? Wonderful!" I rolled my eyes. "No, he didn't. He wasn't awake for long, he was in too much pain so the doctors gave him more medication," she ended softly.

I huffed at the lack of help and John covered for me. "Thank you Molly, please text if you get any more news."

We moved forward silently. I was thinking and therefore didn't notice my surroundings until much later when John got back from dinner.

"John?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"I've been doing some thinking, and I have a question and I'd like your expert opinion."

He waited patiently. I could almost see him flickering though our most recent investigation in his mind.

"If the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters is located in the middle of platforms nine and ten, shouldn't it be called platform nine and a half?" My brow furrowed.

Several indescribable expressions formed on John's face until it decided on open-mouthed laughter, to which I quickly followed.

An hour, or perhaps two, later, we were curled up next to each other on John's bed. I was almost done with my first Harry Potter book and John had almost completed his Chemistry homework. We were both asleep.

A/N: Eating disorders are not a laughing matter, neither is bullying. You are not weak. Tell someone. Anyone. It gets better.