Chapter Text
Chapter 3
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked. He always had his science of deduction but his mind palace was failing him now.
“I couldn’t go home, my parents would kill me for leaving school without being sick,” John replied with a weak smile.
“Why did you leave school in the first place?” Sherlock had it down to several possible theories, but he still couldn’t decide.
“Well.. I kind of got sick..” John replied, not entirely honest but not entirely truthful either, Sherlock noted.
“Yes yes but why,” Sherlock asked, getting a bit irritated.
“Maybe I don’t wanna talk about it,” John said. Sherlock sighed heavily and walked up his porch.
“Your parents will be expecting you home any moment,” Sherlock said, with the slightest hint of attitude.
“You don’t hate me now, do you?” John asked.
“Of course not! Why would I?,” Sherlock replied, as he turned in surprise.
“I thought maybe you would.. most people do.. I mean, you might, after.. this morning,” John mumbled.
“No. No, I don’t hate you. I’ll never hate you,” Sherlock said, still a bit edgy, but mushy emotions don’t come naturally to the Holmes family.
“Really? Even though I’m… It doesn't bother you?” John asked.
“Friends are friends,” Sherlock replied, finally getting to unlock his front door.
“Alright If only there were more people in the world like you. Hey, did I miss anything major in school today?”
“Well, there’s this boring history project.. I could explain it to you if you have a minute.”
“I’ll text my parents, let them know I’m here.”
John left as it was just starting to get dark. Sherlock and John had discussed the project and other homework. They didn’t talk at all about their morning discussion after what was said on the porch. John wasn’t sure if that was a success or a failure. He was happy he didn’t lose Sherlock, but.. “Friends are friends.” Sherlock only wanted to be friends. It hurt more than John had anticipated, but it was better than losing him as a friend too, right? John pulled his battered notebook out along with a pen, but he didn’t know what to write. He had nothing to say. His heart beat a little faster as his eye caught Moriarty’s name crossed out with Sherlock’s below. Sherlock technically never said he wasn’t gay too… but wouldn’t he say something upon learning John is? He musn’t have wanted to give John hope if he was. HE probably wasn’t anyway. John sighed as he shoved his notebook back under the pillow and let the pen roll to the floor. Turning out his light and crawling back under his blankets, John resolved to act normal around Sherlock, so he wouldn’t think he was into him or anything.
Sherlock lay in his bed and stared at his ceiling, fingers steepled under his slender chin. John had acted like he had no interest in him.. John was gay and he had no interest in him. Sherlock felt a tug in his chest. He had unconsciously hoped that John was gay.. he hadn’t anticipated John having no interest in him. Not that Sherlock had an ego or anything. Most people hated him .He should be glad that John even wanted to be friends. with him. John was such a great person. Sherlock stared at the ceiling, completely still except for the occasional fluttering of his eyelashes as he blinked. He reached out for his cell phone, which happened to be on the floor next to his bed. Sherlock sighed heavily and yelled his brother’s name.
“Sherlock?” Mycroft knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Sherlock said, disinterestedly.
“What is it?” Mycroft asked, concerned.
“Can you hand me my cell phone?”
“Sherlock it’s two in the morning. You called me in here in the middle of the night for a cell phone? I thought you-”
“My cell phone, PLEASE.” Sherlock emphasized the kindness in his request.Mycroft sighed heavily and retrieved the phone off the floor.
“Don’t do that to me,” Mycroft said sternly.
“I do what I want,” Sherlock replied, happily typing away at his phone. Mycroft sighed heavily again, lingering for a moment.
“I care about you, brother dear,” Mycroft said quietly.
“I know. Thanks, My. You can go back to bed now.”Sherlock said, a bit softer. He hit seend just as hid brother was closing the door. He waited a moment.
John is gay. No interest. SH
You woke me up to hand you your phone so you could text me? MH
Obviously. SH
Sherlock, I thought you had come across opium again. I was so terrified you had gone too far, what I would find when I opened your door. But you want to gossip. I am very cross with you right now. MH
Obviously. I apologize for the inconvenience. SH
Don’t get involved with John. MH
But I think I like him. SH
Silly emotions. Knock it off. Remember Redbeard. MH
Don’t. SH
Poor little Billy and his puppy. MH
Do NOT ever call me Billy again. That is past me. SH
William Sherlock Scott Holmes and Redbeard Holmes, best friends furever. MH
Please. Stop. I learned my lesson. No more John. No more Billy. I am Sherlock Holmes now. SH
Alright. Please remember. All people die, all hearts are broken. Caring is NOT an advantage. MH
Alright. Yes. Thanks. Night. SH
Goodnight, Sherlock. Sleep well. MH
Sherlock rolled over angrily and threw his phone at the wall. He was looking to seek advice from Mycroft but all he got was a reminder of his past. He wanted to forget his past, start something new. He sighed and rolled over again. John would never like him if he knew of his past. Sherlock regretted ever getting into drugs. Sherlock regretted getting so close to Redbeard. He wished he had some opium with him now. Such a rush of emotions. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep/
The next morning, Sherlock was a bit out of it. Mycroft was gone by the time he woke up. He didn’t want to see Mycroft anyway. Sherlock rushed to get ready, as he forgot to set the alarm the previous night. As he boarded the bus, he looked for John, but another sight caught his eye. He quickly sat down beside John, trying not to look further back without making it obvious that he was trying not to look back.
“John, who’s that?” Sherlock said, motioning his head back.
“Thats Irene Adler, the school whore.” John replied, not even looking back. So, the girl must have had a reputation and caught a lot of attention, if John didn’t even have to look.
“Molly’s friend?”
“Yesh.”
“Is she in our grade?”
“No, she’s a junior. I think she and Molly had an art class together last year. Put your eyes back in your head, man.”
“I’m not looking.”
“You’re obviously looking.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t waste your time, she’s a total slut.”
“Is that always such a bad thing?” Sherlock muttered under his breath. John didn’t hear him. John was focusing on the fact that Sherlock was definitely not gay. He spent the rest of the bus ride contemplating his heart as his genius idiot friend sat beside him practically drooling over the ‘beauty’ in the back of the bus.
Later that day, as Sherlock was walking through the hall on the way to lunch, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hello sweetie, I saw you staring this morning, thought I wouldn’t notice,” Irene whispered in his ear with a grin.
“I wasn’t looking. You disgust me.” Sherlock lied. Although she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he had very little respect for ‘whores’.
“Oh, you were looking, alright. Like what you see?” Irene grinned wider.
“Oh just shut up,” he replied, turning towards the cafeteria that he never ate in.
“Hey, you’re pretty sexy yourself,” Irene stepped in front of him. Sherlock glared at her, but he could feel his heart flutter the slightest bit. “Do you really wanna talk in this noisy cafeteria?”
“I don’t want to talk to you at all. You’re in my way.”
“Stubborn, are we? Look, I can’t talk here. Mrs. Hudson, she’d yell at me for skipping classes again,” she motioned to the sweet old lady supervising from the corner of the cafeteria.
“I need to eat.”
“You don’t eat.”
“How do you know?”
“The science of deduction.” Irene grinned at him. Sherlock glared back, untrusting, surprised that she used his own words against him. Irene noted that he was more intrigued, and grinned wider. God she was grinning so hard, she might as well have been the Cheshire cat.
“I’m eating today,” Sherlock said, remembering his busy morning.
“Alright then. Here’s my cell number,” Irene pulled a piece of paper from her pocket along with a pen. She scribbled down a number and handed it to him. He tore it in two and threw it on the ground. She looked as though she was going to make another comment, but he walked away before then. He sat at his usual table alone until Irene walked away. He made sure she was really gone before he retrieved the two halves of the paper that were still lying on the ground.