John's phone chirped with a whatsapp message at eight o'clock in the morning, and while he rubbed his eyes, trying to get awake enough to reach for his phone, he thought, slightly amused, that Sherlock had become his own personal alarm clock. Because of course it was him, as he confirmed with a quick look, smiling lazily.

"Good morning, John! I hope you are not too tired after last evening. SH."

In fact, John would have been grateful for another hour in bed, but given that he was fully awake by now, a nice cup of tea and some toast would be a good second option. He got up from bed and did his morning rituals while typing answers to Sherlock.

Last evening had already become last night by the time John took Sherlock home, although they only stopped for a fast take away after the evening's events. But the adrenaline had kept John awake for hours in his bed afterwards, and he wondered if it had been the same for Sherlock. It turned out that the boy didn't have any problem with getting to sleep after facing criminals. Oh, well, it's good to be seventeen, John chuckled. Sherlock started to insist on visiting him in his flat.

"You have already seen my house, John, it's only fair! SH".

"Shut up, I only accompanied you to the main door."

"And whose fault is this? I invited you to come in. Now you must reciprocate. SH."

"You are an insufferable brat."

"But you love me all the same. SH."

John gulped, but didn't answer to this. Instead, he finally gave in.

"Alright, but only a tea, don't get any odd ideas. Do you know my address?"

"Of course I know. SH."

"You little stalker!"

"I'll be there in an hour. SH."

John realised he was smiling fondly at his phone.

When Sherlock arrived, John's flatmate was lying on the sofa, watching the news on the telly, so they went upstairs to his bedroom instead of staying in the sitting room.

"Don't be very excited", John warned. "My bedroom is small and absolutely dull."

"It's yours, how come it is dull?" Sherlock asked, beaming.

But once there, he looked around, examining the sparse furniture consisting of a single bed, a wardrobe, a desk with a computer and a pile of exercises sheets and books, and two chairs. John chuckled at his disappointed face.

"What did you expect?" he asked his pupil. "I am a very simple man, Sherlock… although it seems you refuse to see it."

Sherlock sat down on the bed, thoughtful, and John passed him a mug of tea, that he had already prepared and was lying on a tray on his desk. He sat with his own mug on a chair, in front of him, studying his face. Sherlock sipped his tea and finally asked the question he seemed to have been mulling over.

"John… Who was the one who hurt you?"

It took John by surprise. He tried to stutter an evasive, but Sherlock cut him at once.

"There was someone, I know. No one is so self deprecating when it comes to a relationship if they haven't been deeply hurt before. I want you to trust in me and tell me. Please."

John stared at his piercing eyes and was about to refuse flatly, when he remembered what the girls had explained him about Sherlock's past love life. Oh. It wasn't very fair that he knew about Sherlock but the boy was kept in the darkness about his past, was it?

"You are… very straightforward, Sherlock", he started, hesitant, pausing to wet his dry lips. "Too straightforward. But I trust in you, I do, so it's okay." He leaned back on his chair and caressed the rim of his mug with a finger. "I dated a girl in college. At first more as friends than as anything else, but with time it turned more serious… The two of us studied Medicine, had the same friends and shared a flat, so we were always together. By the end of college we got engaged. Then we started our internship, together again. She wanted to specialise in traumatology, I wanted to become a surgeon. It was a really hard year, studying and working long turns in the hospital, and the little time we were alone with each other we only talked about exams and patients. I still think it was that… Because when we finally ended our internship year, she came and told me that she had been dating another man for months, but she didn't want to say anything until that tough period was over, to avoid making it still harder for me. It was another doctor, of course, a senior one, one of the most brilliant trauma doctors in London." John finally looked at Sherlock, who was watching him in turn, serious. "I was heartbroken, of course. After six years together, I didn't expect that turn of events, and I couldn't understand how she had been capable of dating another man at my back, after all the things we shared…" John shook his head and focused his gaze on his tea again. The words came easier that way. "My family was disappointed, because Terry was part of the family for them, and they blamed me for the break up. They said I was so focused on my work that had neglected her, and perhaps they were right. Either way, I was hurt and angry, so as soon as I could I simply left the hospital duties and signed up with the army." John raised his eyes to Sherlock's again, who was still watching him in silence, and added. "Remember you told me I didn't have a good relationship with my parents because my joining the army? Well, in fact they were relieved of seeing me going, or that's what I felt right then. Every time we met after Terry and I broke up, my mother started to cry and my father frowned at me and said nothing. So a change of scenery was more than welcomed. And… that's all."

"How was she?"

John opened his mouth, agape.

"Terry? Well… she was my best friend, until she wasn't. Smart. Not as much as you, of course. Nice to look at. Serious. Responsible. She still sends two Christmas postcards to my parents, one for them and another one for me, but we haven't kept in touch. And really, Sherlock, there isn't anything else."

He reached for the boy's hand and smiled sadly.

"…I don't know if I've given you the explanation you wanted."

"You did."

Sherlock tugged at his arm until John joined him on the bed, and they were suddenly holding each other tightly. It was nice, being with Sherlock, his proximity, the scent of his shampoo invading his nostrils. John realised he couldn't remember how it felt to be hold by Terry. Were her hands warm or cool? How did she smell like? Even the features of her face resembled way more her photographs than John's actual memories.

"You are not a dull person, John", Sherlock's voice mumbled on his ear. "You are far from dull. You are brave, and kind, and a really special, one-of-a-kind person. And I am a little glad to that Terry woman, because thanks to her you are mine now. And I will never let you go, John…"

The doctor felt goosebumps going up his spine. My genius, enticing, possessive Sherlock…, he thought, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment.

It cost him a lot to cut Sherlock's visit short, but the next day was the first day of school after the Easter holidays, so the prospect of seeing each other daily again had Sherlock in a good mood and he finally went home before lunch. Where he kept sending messages to John during the rest of the day.

The atmosphere in the school after the holidays was rather different than before. John's pupils were facing their A levels in scarcely two months, and most of them were too excited to sit down in silence during the whole lesson, not to mention the ones who were directly panicking. So suddenly teaching needed all of John's patience to end the day without snapping at someone.

Sherlock was too confident… as always, and John had to nag him to at least finish all his essays in time and try to cooperate in the team assignments. In the end John got a couple of free lunch times to spend with Mike and Molly in the cafeteria, after months of skipping it. He was glad of listening to their school gossip to vary, and Mike's jokes were always welcomed, especially after those stressing school days.

"I'm glad to have you back with us, John!" Molly said. "Is Sherlock ill or something?"

Mike frowned at hearing this, but didn't comment on it.

"No, he's at the library, finishing an English team project."

"So… what do you exactly do with Sherlock at lunch time?" she insisted.

John could see Mike studying him with the corner of his eye, and he tried to appear innocent and nonchalant. He shrugged and smiled.

"Not much… I have my lunch at the lab, on my desk, and meanwhile he does some experiments from an old book I gave to him. He barely needs my assistance, to be honest. But I have to be there all the same, haven't I?"

Molly nodded, clearly still not very convinced.

"But some days you are not in the lab… I saw you in the gym one day, I think?"

John nodded. Should he tell them about the bullying and about how he was training Sherlock to defend himself? He wasn't sure. He was aware that he was crossing the boundaries with Sherlock even for the public eyes, and he didn't know how his colleagues would react if he told them. He dreaded the possibility of being denied to keep helping Sherlock any more. But Mike was staring at him with a deep crease between his bushy eyebrows, so he guessed the option of ignoring the question was out of the table.

He told Mike and Molly everything about Adrian and his clique, and about how he was training Sherlock. Afterwards, his colleagues were so shocked and supporting that John felt a lump in his throat, relief seeping through his pores. Patting his back, Mike assured he would have an eye set on those bullies for the rest of the year, and poor Molly seemed about to cry and begged John to keep helping Sherlock. Knowing that at least half of the truth was uncovered and everybody was alright with it took a weight off John.

But every action prompts a reaction, John reflected some days later, when Adrian and six mates of his approached John's car in the parking lot, when Sherlock and he were saying goodbye to each other. It was in the afternoon, as John had stayed a few hours to get his exams ready. Everybody had already gone home, or was doing extra-curricular activities, but the only ones in sight were the football team, who were too far and busy to notice them. I don't think they have seen us kissing, John thought, sweating. Being surrounded was bad enough. Knowing that, if he dared to raise his hand towards one of those bullies his teaching career was over, was still worse. By his side, Sherlock clenched his hands and stared at Adrian with his face full of determination.

"Well, well… What do we have here?" Adrian asked in a mocking voice. "Isn't it the two lovey-doveys holding hands? As if being a sissy wasn't disgusting enough, the freak had to be the teacher's pet to the end… I'm going to throw up!"

The others snickered but said nothing. John bit his tongue to avoid retorting, but of course Sherlock couldn't help himself.

"Leave John out of this! You might feel really threatened by this 'sissy' if you need six sidekicks to feel brave enough to face us."

Adrian's eyes glowed dangerously. John tried to hold Sherlock's arm before he stepped forward, but the boy shook him off.

"You know this is between you and me, Adrian."

"You are right, queer know-it-all… And are you suggesting a one-on-one fight? Because I'm totally in for that."

He took his jacket off and threw it a few meters away. He took two steps towards Sherlock, and stopped there, as if waiting for the other boy, challenging him. His friends stayed where they were, grinning, and John suddenly felt as if he wasn't there at all. He felt invisible. Impotent. He was left to watch as Sherlock shook his own jacket down and then walked towards Adrian, looking confident but alert. Is he ready for this? John thought, scared. If we would have more time… there's a couple of karate chops I could have taught him…

"This is the deal", Sherlock said, loud and clear. "If I win, you leave us alone for the rest of the school year, and you don't say a word about John to anyone."

"Ha! And if I win? I want to mop the floor of the whole ground floor of the school with you."

Sherlock grinned back at him.

"Seems fair. But your mates stay put. Just you and me."

Adrian looked him over.

"Let's see what those skinny arms can do, then, freak!"

And he charged against Sherlock. The boy evaded him easily and planted a kick on his back, making him growl. Rubbing his lower back, Adrian hissed and charged again, trying to throw a powerful fist to Sherlock's jaw. He dodged the hit again and punched the bigger guy on his stomach, following with a knee on his nose. John chuckled, relieved, watching as Sherlock fought the bully with a selection of the hits he had been able to teach him in the previous months, mixing karate with kick-boxing with whatever worked for him. Although being way thinner than Adrian and not as tall as him, he now knew how to use his body and his own weight against his opponent. After a short while, the bully was lying on the parking lot, bleeding from his cut eyebrow, his nose and his mouth, and breathing heavily. His friends fidgeted and avoided to look at him, and they were obviously considering going for Sherlock or running away.

"Sherlock! That's enough!" John called out, stepping in at last. He let his gaze stroll by the young men's faces and, after a long stern silence, he said. "This was the last time. From now on, I don't want to see any of you using violence. Is it clear?" A couple of guys nodded, the rest kept studying the parking lot floor. "Take Adrian home. Explain whatever you want, but leave Sherlock and me out of this. Go!"

The boys moved at once and helped Adrian to his feet. Sherlock stood there, gasping for air, but John thought it was more from the excitement than anything else. He didn't get any of Adrian's hits fully. They waited in silence and almost without moving until the clique had disappeared from sight, and then Sherlock finally turned towards John. They looked at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Have you seen me, John!" Sherlock exclaimed between giggles. "Have you seen me?"

"Of course I have!" John hugged him tightly. The boy was trembling in his arms, and he had to restraint himself to avoid kissing him right there. "You are great; more than great, you are fantastic!"

"I still can't believe it."

John chuckled and remembered for a moment the first time he saw Sherlock: he was being beaten by Adrian and two other guys, and he looked completely helpless. And look at him now, he thought, proudly. He felt a rush of fondness ran over him.

"Sherlock…", he whispered on the boy's ear. "Can you get in my car just for a minute? I might explode if I don't get to kiss you right now."

And he felt Sherlock beaming without needing to see his face.

The rest of the school year passed as fast and stressing as a hurricane. There were exams, there were evenings of running after Sherlock and yellow tapes and police sirens, there was the anxiety worming inside his guts every time the head teacher crossed his way in the school corridors. He tried to be more distant with Rick, Marcie and Nell to avoid further problems, but he was glad that they were still teaming with Sherlock in most school assignments. All in all, and although he had had an eventful but good year at Greenwood, he couldn't be happier when one of his applications for another secondary school got accepted. As the summer came closer, John started to spend more time at Greenwood, strolling through the school grounds and bidding farewell to every corner of the building.

The graduation day dawned sunny and rather hot, and soon all the pupils were sweating under their black robes. All the teachers and some volunteers were finishing hanging the decorations in the gym and the school grounds. Greenwood looked colourful and pretty with wreaths in its main door and in every tree. Mike was holding the end of a garland, trying to tie it to a tree, on top of a ladder, and when he looked down his slight fear of heights made him sweat more than the heat.

"Where is John when you need him?" he grunted to himself. Then he raised his voice and call out. "Hey, has someone seen John? Where the hell is he hiding?"

In fact, although nobody had seen him, John was hiding in his favourite spot in the school: the lab. And he wasn't alone.

"I'm almost not your pupil by now, John", Sherlock whispered in his ear.

"Don't pull that on me, kid… We still will see each other at school for one more week…"

John had pushed Sherlock against a low cupboard, and now the teen was half sitting on it, holding his balance by wrapping his long legs around John's hips. All of John's patience seemed to slip to the floor along Sherlock's robe and graduation hat, and the way he was tugging at the boy's tie to get rid of it was in clear contradiction with his calm words.

"But I am a graduate student now… What's a week, anyway?"

Sherlock wormed his hand inside the back of John's pants, and the teacher cursed and sucked the young man's neck, almost with desperation. A sudden thought made him come back to earth, though.

"Sherlock… Are your parents coming to the graduation? They should be about to arrive."

"Hmmm… Yes", Sherlock answered, bucking his hips to meet John's eager groin and making him gasp.

"But perhaps they are already here, and they are looking for you…"

"Good luck with finding me here, then…"

"Sherlock…" John wanted to push him off and get a bit of space, he really wanted to do it. At least the part of his mind that wasn't clouded by lust wanted to. But that part was smaller every second. He must find something to stay grounded, to get Sherlock and him out of there and back to the celebrations. "Is your brother coming, too?"

Sherlock froze at hearing him. But he only needed half a minute to go back to kiss John and massage his bum.

"No. I told him to stay put and give us a chance. Besides, he is at work."

Those words filled John with relief. He wouldn't have to face that scary man, at least for now. And he didn't want to think about the next time he would be forced to see Mycroft Holmes, honestly. The thought was fleeting and short-lived, and vanished completely when Sherlock managed to rub again their clothed erections in just the right way. They had never gotten so far, and the tiny part of John's mind that was screaming that he should stop right then was more difficult to hear by the moment.

"John…" Sherlock breathed in his ear, prompting a full body shudder in the teacher. "What do you want to do with me?"

A hundred images huddled at once on John's mind, shushing his teeny rational mind completely. Images of things he had imagined doing to Sherlock when it was late at night and he was alone with his mind and his hand.

"Tell me, please", Sherlock insisted, his breath hot against John's skin, interrupted by a moan, and then added: "What will do when we are finally able to be alone in your bedroom and without restrictions?"

Sherlock kept rutting against him, and it felt hot and too good to stop by then.

"I will tie your wrists", John suddenly said, gasping for air.

Sherlock seemed only a bit surprised, but recovering quickly he asked:

"Really? Will you tie me to your bed?"

"No… Perhaps some day. I will have you standing against my bedroom's door."

The pressure of Sherlock's erection against his groin grew harder, and although John wished to touch it (grab it lick it mouth it), he contented himself with reaching Sherlock's nipples under his shirt.

"Oh, that's… interesting. Cool. Will you have me naked?"

"I will take out your trousers and your underwear, but I'll leave your shirt on… I will pinch your nipples", he said, and did so, making Sherlock groan loudly. "Then I will reach for your ass and I will put my fingers in you…"

That, he didn't act, grounding his hips harder and joining his dicks again instead, and he felt his own about to burst in fire from the friction. Sherlock hid his face on John's shoulder, moaning softly, and then he increased the strength of his grip on the teacher's bum and started to move him faster.

"I will turn you to face the door and then I will put my hot cock inside your tight little ass…" Sherlock moaned, sounding almost desperate then, and the sound alone almost triggered his orgasm. He breathed deeply to calm down a little, and kept on talking: "I will put it all the way in, and then I will start pushing and lunging…"

"Will you do it fast and hard?" Sherlock managed to say through his laboured breath. "Until I feel like I'm going to faint because I can't take it anymore?"

John almost chuckled and shook his head. Where has he read that?, he thought.

"No fainting… It will be painful but at the same time you will feel like you are going to explode from the pleasure."

"I will love it", Sherlock stated, arching his back until he almost fell down the cupboard.

John cupped his lower half to keep him in place, and took the chance to rub against him in short but fast thrusts. His orgasm was so close that he could almost touch it with the tips of his fingers, if he reached for it.

"You will", John reassured Sherlock. "Every moment of it, I swear. Then I will pump your cock at the same time, and it will feel amazing."

Sherlock anchored his arms around John's neck and buried his face in his neck again.

"John!" he exclaimed, trembling.

And John wasn't able to say anything else, because he was suddenly too gone, too wrapped up in pleasure, and he breathed his lover's name while the complete blankness claimed him. He half managed to roll his hips again, chasing his pleasure until it started to vanish, leaving him with a shuddering gorgeous creature between his arms, and an awful stickiness down at his pants. He kissed Sherlock's temple and tried to regain his breath.

The young man leaned back in the cupboard, without letting go of John's shoulders, and offered him a tired smile. His black locks were hanging in disarray, sweated, but he still looked like the most beautiful person ever to John. He smiled back, and leaned in until their foreheads touched.

"I'm grateful for the first time of being forced to wear that stupid black robe over my clothes…" Sherlock muttered, and there was amusement in his voice. "But… what are you going to do about that stain in your trousers, Doc?"

John looked down and a nervous chuckle found his way in his throat.

"Oh, shut up and let's get cleaned already!" he could only add.