Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts in a chemistry class.

Technically speaking, fifteen-year-old Sherlock Holmes is not supposed to be in this class, in terms of his age. The class is made up of a mix of students in their last couple of years of high school, seventeen or eighteen years old. Sherlock is the youngest. Sherlock is also the smartest in the class – which is, of course, the very reason why he is in this class at all.

It had taken Sherlock's teachers a while to realise that he needed to be moved into a more advanced class. The issue was that when Sherlock first started high school, he was not excelling at his class work in the way that a particularly gifted student should have been. In fact, he was failing, simply because he was refusing to put in the effort, oftentimes not even submitting assignments. It made him look stupid to his teachers, who took a while to realise that Sherlock's grades and his intelligence did not line up. At first, they tried to give him easier work, treating him like he was one of the slower students who needed a little extra help to learn, but this did not improve his grades. It was only when one of the teachers caught Sherlock in one of the science labs during his lunch hour, conducting an experiment for his own enjoyment that was far more complicated than anything that they had covered in class – and, importantly, far more complicated for someone who was not intelligent – that they realised what was really happening.

After this, the teacher started giving Sherlock more complex work, and suddenly, his grades skyrocketed. Now that he was being given something more challenging, more interesting, he was much more willing to apply himself and actually put in effort. The more interesting he found the work, the better he would do. This was also beneficial to Sherlock's teachers and his peers, because a more engaged Sherlock was a significantly less disruptive Sherlock, which made the classes more bearable for everyone involved.

So, now that Sherlock is in Year 10, his teachers have decided that, rather being in a class with his peers, Sherlock can be in the more advanced class with the senior students. Immediately, it becomes Sherlock's favourite class. The work is primarily self-directed – they get to design their own projects and run their own experiments, making it as challenging as they like – and the work that they are given directly is all work that Sherlock finds interesting.

Sherlock loves the class up until they are told that their major project for the semester is to be done in pairs.

Sherlock pulls his professor aside the day that they are given this project, as the other students are beginning to pack up their belongings and make their way out of the room.

"I'd like to do the project on my own," Sherlock says.

His professor looks up at him over the tops of his glasses. "There's an even number of students in the class, including you," he says. "You should have no problems finding someone to work with."

The number of students in the class had not been Sherlock's concern. He clarifies, "I work better on my own." After a moment's thought, he adds, "I'm in this class so that I can challenge myself. Let me challenge myself by completing the project on my own."

The professor shakes his head, though there's a little smile playing on his lips. "You're also in this class because you're clever. We know that you're intelligent enough to complete the assignment on your own. I think it would be more of a challenge if you had to work with someone else."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," his professor says, cutting off Sherlock's next argument before he has even had the chance to make it. "If you're going to be in this class, you're going to do exactly the same sort of work as everyone else, which includes doing this assignment in pairs. Now, you can either find yourself a partner, or I will assign you one."

"Oh God," mutters someone behind Sherlock. "Don't let me be assigned with the freak."

Sherlock pretends not to notice. His focus is instead on trying to come up with an even better, even more convincing argument that will get him out of working on this project with someone else.

Before he has the chance to develop such an argument, however, another voice says, "I'll work with you, if you want."

Sherlock turns to the source of the voice: a blond boy whose name Sherlock does not know. Sherlock recognises him as one of the boys who sit in the front of the class, but Sherlock has never interacted with him before. Sherlock has had no need to collect unimportant data on this boy, including his name.

"See, Sherlock?" his professor says, gesturing to the boy. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Sherlock chooses not to point out that his professor is completely missing the point.

The boy tilts his head to the side, an expectant look on his face, but when Sherlock does not speak, he says, "Why don't you meet me in the library at lunch? We can talk through our ideas for the project, and then you can decide if you want to work with me or if you'd rather work with someone else."

Sherlock does not want to work with anyone else, but he also does not want to work with this boy. He does not want to work with anyone – why is this not obvious to the people around him? Why is this not clear to his professor, in particular? However, his professor is watching him like a hawk, perhaps trying to determine whether this short conversation is the start of a partnership between Sherlock and this boy, or if they are about to have a disagreement. Sherlock has no interest in continuing this conversation in front of their professor, especially when he knows that his professor will be displeased if Sherlock says what he really thinks about partnering with this boy (or anyone) on this project.

So, instead, Sherlock says, "Fine. I'll meet you in the library."

Then he turns and heads out the door before the boy can respond.

OoO

Sherlock sticks to his word. Come lunch time, he makes his way to the library, just as planned. The boy is already there when Sherlock arrives, sitting at one of the tables. He raises his hand in greeting, to get Sherlock's attention, and Sherlock heads straight over to him. He slides into the seat across from the boy, without returning the boy's smile.

"I do not require sympathy," Sherlock states.

The boy blinks. "Okay," he says. "Good to know. Is this relevant to the project?"

"You volunteered to be my partner immediately after one of our classmates expressed displeasure at the idea of partnering at me," Sherlock explains. "I assure you, I do not need you to partner with me because the comment in question made you feel sorry for me. I do not need your pity."

The boy's expression softens a little. "He's an arse, you know," he says.

Sherlock knows. He's had plenty of experience with that particular classmate's behaviour, and the behaviour of his friends – often directed towards Sherlock himself. Regardless, Sherlock says, "I see little point in paying attention to what other people say about me."

"That's good," says the boy, "but still, it wouldn't be nice for you to end up being forced to work with him, or someone like him."

Again, Sherlock says, "I don't need you to partner with me out of pity."

"It's not pity. I just feel like you'd work better with someone who doesn't act like some of the people in our class do, and I would also work a lot better with someone other than those people." He pauses, and then adds, "I don't have any close friends in our class, so I need to find a partner as well, and you sound like a nicer partner than a lot of the people in our class."

"I'm hardly 'nice'."

"Well, at least you don't call people freaks behind their backs. Look, why don't we just give it a try? I promise I'm not a terrible partner." When Sherlock does not respond, the boy continues, "And you know your options are limited. You have to work with someone, even if you don't want to."

Sherlock purses his lips, considering. Unfortunately, this boy is right. His professor has made it absolutely clear that Sherlock is not allowed to work alone. So, if Sherlock has to work with someone, then obviously it's preferable to work with someone who is not the boy who called Sherlock a freak, or that boy's friends. Maybe the blond boy sitting in front of him is the best option available.

"I already have ideas for this project," Sherlock says. "None of them are simple."

"Good," the boy replies. "That might give us higher marks. I'm up for the challenge."

"And if you find it too challenging?"

The boy smiles. "Well, I'm not going to give up, if that's what you're asking."

You'll do, Sherlock thinks.

Aloud, he says, "All right. I'll work with you."

The boy grins. "Great," he says, and then he extends his hand. "I'm John."

Sherlock reaches out and grasps it firmly. "Sherlock," he introduces.

And so it begins.

OoO

Over the next few weeks, Sherlock and John meet regularly during their lunch hours to begin planning their project. During this time, Sherlock makes a number of deductions about his new partner, as he is prone to do. He deduces that John's family has a history of alcoholism – it is something John's sibling has picked up from their father, but John himself is motivated to steer clear of alcohol to avoid going down the same path. He deduces that while John is naturally left-handed, he broke his wrist once as a kid (likely by falling on it when he was playing sport) and so, while not ambidextrous, he is stronger in his right hand than most left-handed individuals would be. He deduces that John plays rugby after school, and has the potential of becoming the team captain.

In addition – less a deduction, more an observation – Sherlock discovers that John is a particularly unusual person when it comes to the way he treats Sherlock.

They work well together, which is bizarre in and of itself. Sherlock does not recall ever working well with anyone, at any point in his life. John is patient and polite, a good listener but also a contributor. He does not openly reject any of Sherlock's ideas, but instead expands on them, adding his own thoughts to develop a better project plan. John's ideas, as it turns out, are actually quite good. John is smarter than he looks, and he is also able to contribute to the development of the project from a different standpoint to Sherlock. Where Sherlock's ideas are based off interest, and a desire to learn how things work or to try things just because he thinks they sound like fun, John's ideas are based off practicality. John can see where the results of a certain experiment might be relevant, for instance, in the field of medical science.

Together, they are able to develop a project that is even better than the one that Sherlock would have done on his own. They find a rhythm in working together, collaborating over several lunch-time meetings, each bringing their own views and ideas to the table. By the end of the third week after they had been given the project, they are fully planned and ready to begin the experiment. Some of their other classmates, by this point, have not even started.

"See?" John says as they pack up their things after their final planning session. "I'm not as bad a partner as you expected, am I?"

"I didn't think you would be a bad partner, exactly," Sherlock says.

"Didn't you?"

"Of course not." A beat, and then Sherlock continues, "You sit at the front of the class, and take notes even when this is not a requirement. This shows that you are a dedicated student and that you are determined to achieve good results, at least in this class, if not in all of your classes. You're motivated and ambitious, which is likely related to your desire to become a doctor. Based on the classes you're taking, I presume your intentions are to study medicine. You know that a medicine degree will be costly, both in terms of time and money, and you're not well-off financially. So, your best chance of succeeding involves you getting a scholarship. This is why you are so motivated to get good grades, especially on a project that is worth the majority of your final grade in this class. So, you see, I was never concerned that you would be a bad partner. You are undoubtedly one of the few in the class who would be willing to put in as much time and effort as a project of this complexity would require."

The words seem to tumble out of Sherlock's mouth before he can stop himself. It's only when the last word leaves his lips that he really hears what he has just said. He does this sometimes – speaks without a filter. It is one of the many reasons why Sherlock has never had any friends.

The words "freak" and "psychopath" and "stalker" echo inside Sherlock's head. John is staring at him, and Sherlock can only wait for the inevitable. John will call him some variation of the words that Sherlock can already hear in his mind, and he will get up and storm off. John might have been the only person in Sherlock's class who Sherlock could possibly work with, and Sherlock will undoubtedly have destroyed any potential of an effective partnership before they can even start the interesting work.

Maybe Sherlock should have kept his mouth shut.

Sherlock has never been very good at keeping his mouth shut.

He wonders if their professor will be more willing to let Sherlock work alone now that Sherlock has tried to work with someone else and has proven that it does not work.

John lets out a breath, and Sherlock's mind is whirring way into the future. In his head, John has already stormed out, John has already told Sherlock that he will not be working with him, and Sherlock is already in the process of considering ways to convince his professor that this is proof that Sherlock needs to work alone.

Then John says, "Wow. That... that was amazing" and Sherlock's mind screeches to a halt.

Sherlock is not stupid, and he is not deaf. He hears the words, and he knows what they mean. However, for a moment, it feels as though his brain cannot comprehend the statement. It's so wrong, so at odds with what Sherlock is used to that for a moment, Sherlock doesn't have the faintest clue what to say. He runs through a series of potential responses in his brain, though none of them reach his lips.

Excuse me?

Say that again.

Most people don't respond so positively.

Amazing?

In the end, Sherlock settles on a quiet, "That's not what people usually say."

"And what do people usually say?"

"Piss off."

The words earn a bright smile from John, warm and genuine and showing absolutely no indication that he has taken offence. "I suppose people are usually a bit weirded out by you reading their minds, then?"

"I don't read minds."

"Could have fooled me. How did you know all that, then?"

"I observed."

"Observed what?"

"Everything." Sherlock makes a vague gesture to roughly all of John. "Your clothes tell me about your financial situations, the classes you are taking give some indication of your desired career path, and your study habits make it clear that you're motivated and dedicated – that you should be working towards a scholarship is a bit of a shot in the dark, but a good one. It's obvious when you know what to look for."

"It's not obvious to me," John says. "That's amazing."

Sherlock feels something warm blossom in his chest.

OoO

When Sherlock was six years old, he deduced that his father was having an affair.

He had barely understood it at the time. He had not realised the significance of what he was saying until the words were out of his mouth, and he saw the expression change on his mother's face.

Afterwards, Sherlock shut himself up in his room, sitting on his bed with his back against the wall. He made no effort to move, even when the light from outside faded and left it too dark to see.

Mycroft found him a couple of hours later, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. Mycroft did not turn on the light when he entered, but simply shut the door behind him and took a seat at the end of Sherlock's bed. He did not speak, instead waiting for Sherlock to break the silence when he was ready.

At last, Sherlock asked, "Isn't it better that she knows?" His voice was quiet, hoarse. His tone reflected the unspoken question beneath his words: Did I do the right thing?

"No, Sherlock," Mycroft said, and Sherlock knew in that second that his older brother had already made the same deduction that Sherlock had verbalised. Sherlock was not the first to realise this, he was only the first to say it out loud. The tone that Mycroft used was one that Sherlock was unfortunately very familiar with. It was the one Mycroft used whenever Sherlock had been a particularly stupid little boy. Mycroft continued, "You're far too young to understand adult relationships. You should have kept your mouth shut."

Sherlock curled himself up tighter, wishing he could sink into the bed. "I thought he loved her," he murmured. That was what parents did, wasn't it? Love each other?

"I expect he did, once," Mycroft said, "but love never lasts. All hearts are broken in the end."

"Then why did they get married? Why does anyone get married, or bother falling in love, if it will only end in broken hearts?"

"Most people aren't like you and I, Sherlock. They cannot see things objectively. They let themselves believe that their love will last. It just leaves them more hurt when they find that they were wrong."

Sherlock could do nothing but believe his brother on this matter, because Mycroft was seven years his senior and cleverer than Sherlock. He was always right. After a moment, Sherlock asked, "Does this mean they will get a divorce?"

"They might," said Mycroft, "but they might not."

"They might stay together? Even though they are not in love?"

"Most married couples that you see are no longer in love, Sherlock."

"Then why are they still married?"

"Convenience, usually. Divorces are messy, expensive, and complicated. Sometimes, couples will just decide that they can stand one another enough to stay together, if it means they can avoid all the legal complications such as custody battles and..." He trailed off, and then looked down at Sherlock over his nose. "Well, I don't expect you to understand any of that."

Sherlock understands. At least, he understands some of it. He might only be six years old, but he is clever. He has a little bit of knowledge about the law from what he has read in books or seen on the television; he knows what 'custody battles' means. What Sherlock doesn't understand is the sentimental aspect of this whole conversation. He chooses not to try explaining that to Mycroft.

When the silence stretched between them for another moment or two, Mycroft got to his feet, making his way to the door to take his leave. However, when he reached the door, he hesitated, one hand on the door handle. He looked over his shoulder.

"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock," he said. "Remember that."

Sherlock did.

OoO

Sherlock's parents did not get divorced, and they are still together. However, Sherlock knows that the way they talk to each other nowadays is different to the way that they did before. His mother's smile, when directed towards her husband, never seems quite so bright.

Mycroft's words stick in his mind. It's the one lesson from his brother that Sherlock never forgets. He can hear Mycroft's thoughts whenever he even considers getting close to anyone.

OoO

As the weeks progress, Sherlock's meetings with John become more and more frequent. They switch from lunchtime meetings to afternoon meetings, because that affords them more time to work on their project. They make use of the chemistry lab, because it remains unlocked after school for at least a couple of hours (something Sherlock discovered when he first started high school and something he has used to his advantage ever since). It's nicer than working in the library, as many of the other students at the school do not realise that the library should be used as a study area and not a social area. That, and the library also closes a few hours after the end of school, whereas the chemistry lab is sometimes open much later – depending on how long it takes the cleaners to get in and lock up.

They run into a problem one Wednesday afternoon. The cleaners have come through early, and the chemistry lab is already closed by the time they reach it.

They could use the school library instead, but even if they can get past the noise, they will only have an hour before closing time. It feels like the entire school is against them – of course the chemistry lab would be closed on the same day that the library closes early.

"We could try a café?" John suggests, but Sherlock is immediately dissatisfied with the idea for the same reason that he would be dissatisfied with the library. If anything, a cafe will only be louder than the library. And there will be people everywhere.

His dissatisfaction must show on his face, because John continues, "No? Okay, um, we could try..."

"You could come back to my house," Sherlock suggests suddenly, before he even realises he was going to make that suggestion.

John raises his eyebrows, but then he smiles. "Sure, if you're happy to have me."

"Obviously," Sherlock replies, and he gestures towards the exit. "Come on, then."

OoO

Sherlock's parents are often out late with work, and Mycroft no longer lives at home. Often – but not always – Sherlock is by himself after school for a couple of hours. Sherlock finds, as they make their way to his house, that he is hoping this will be the case today, so that he and John have the house to themselves while they work on their project.

They have no such luck. When Sherlock pushes open the door, he finds his mother is already home, curled up on the sofa with pages of her paper spread out in front of her.

"Sherlock, love, would you mind –" she starts, and then she looks up and realises that they have company. There's a flicker of surprise, but it very quickly melts into a smile. "I didn't know you were bringing a friend home. Who's this?"

A part of Sherlock seems to almost instinctually want to deny that John is his friend, because he doesn't have friends. This particular part of Sherlock is the part that is very closely linked to Mycroft's voice in his head. He suppresses the urge. "This is my lab partner, John," he introduces.

"Nice to meet you," John says, perfectly polite, and it makes Sherlock's mother beam. He can almost hear the thoughts that must be running through her head. Maybe Sherlock has finally befriended someone who will be a good influence on him.

"We're going to study upstairs," Sherlock says, and immediately he turns to lead the way, eager to end this conversation before it can properly start.

Unfortunately, his mother manages to get the next few words in before they can leave the room. "Of course," she says. "John is welcome to stay as long as he likes. In fact, John, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Immediately, Sherlock thinks, No.

It's not that he does not want John's company. On the contrary, John is one of the few people whose presence Sherlock can actually stand. However, if John stays for dinner, it's not just him and Sherlock. It's John, and Sherlock, and Sherlock's parents, and Sherlock's mother is talkative. She might ask questions, or tell stories. She might say something embarrassing. She might say something about how Sherlock has never had any friends before. John might leave dinner tonight with the belief that Sherlock is someone to be pitied. Sherlock is not someone to be pitied; he's never had friends before because other people are idiots and they are the ones who should be pitied for being born with such small IQs. John, however, won't understand that.

As soon as these thoughts enter his mind, Sherlock realises he's not actually sure why John pitying him is such a problem. He does not need pity, but he has never cared what people think of him before, not really. With John, it feels different. He concludes that it's simply the fact that they have to continue to work together for another few months, and their ability to do so will be impaired if John starts pitying him.

Sherlock's expression must have portrayed his thoughts, because John glances over at him as though asking permission, and whatever he sees on Sherlock's face makes him say, "Oh, that's okay. I wouldn't want to impose..."

Sherlock's mother does not take the hint. She shakes her head insistently. "No imposition at all," she says. "Please, we'd love to have you. We always have leftovers anyway. This one," – she jerks her head in Sherlock's direction - "doesn't eat enough."

And maybe Sherlock was wrong in thinking that John had read the thoughts from Sherlock's face, because John then says, "Well, all right, if it's not too much trouble..."

"None at all," Sherlock's mother says. "You two go upstairs and work on your project, and I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

"Come along, John," Sherlock says immediately. He might not be able to avoid the awkward conversations that will take place over dinner, but at least he can separate John from his mother now and ensure that these conversations do not start any earlier tonight.

OoO

They get through a fair amount of work before Sherlock's mother calls them for dinner. The work provides a distraction, and Sherlock temporarily forgets his concerns. However, once he hears his mother's voice, he is again filled with dread. He does not want to sit through dinner. He does not want to listen to his mother talk about how nice it is that Sherlock has finally made a friend, after so many years without one. He does not want to hear his mother praise John for being a nice young man, because John is everything Sherlock is not, everything Sherlock should be. Sherlock does not want to sit through these conversations. He does not want to hear how John responds.

They go down for dinner, because there is no escape (save faking a heart attack, which Sherlock briefly considers but decides against because it might only lead his mother to fuss). They take a seat, help themselves to food, and then the conversation starts.

And the conversation is absolutely nothing like what Sherlock expects.

It starts as Sherlock predicted it would, with his mother chatting away as though she has to make up for the silence coming from both Sherlock and Sherlock's father. She asks about John, about his interests, his studies, his plans for the future. She praises him when he speaks of his plans to become a doctor, and Sherlock can see the path that this conversation could take. His mind is already racing ahead; he can already hear his mother saying something about how she wishes that Sherlock would do something so important with his life, and then Sherlock will be the focus of conversation and everything Sherlock does not want to hear tonight will be said.

To Sherlock's surprise, none of his fears about the conversation come to light.

Somehow, without Sherlock really noticing what John is doing, John takes control of the situation. He moves the focus of conversation away from Sherlock, turning it to Sherlock's mother herself. He asks her about what she does for a living, and shows a genuine interest when she tells him that she's a mathematician. He asks about her work, her books, her publications. He does not sound like he is interrogating her, but instead is just making conversation, asking questions and showing genuine interest in the answers. It does not seem to bother Sherlock's mother. In fact, she seems flattered that someone has taken such a keen interest in her, and it keeps the conversation flowing.

Sherlock's mother answers all the questions openly, and she does not re-take control of the conversation for the entire duration of dinner. It's only when they are loading their plates into the dishwasher that Sherlock realises that none of his fears had come true.

"I better get home," John says once all the plates have been put away. "Thank you so much for dinner, Mrs Holmes. It was really nice."

"Thank you for staying," Sherlock's mother replies. "You're more than welcome here any time. Good luck with your project."

"Thank you," John says, and then he turns to Sherlock, inclining his head to wordlessly say 'Shall we?'

Sherlock tips his head in response, and then leads the way to the door.

When they reach the front door, Sherlock turns to face John, who is smiling brightly. John says, "Thank your mum again for me. It was really nice of her to let me stay."

"I believe you thanked her already," Sherlock points out.

"No harm in thanking her again," John replies. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

Sherlock nods his head.

"Great," John says, and he beams. "Have a nice night, Sherlock."

He turns and makes his way down the front step, but before he can disappear from sight, Sherlock says, "John", and John stops, turning to face him.

Once John meets his eyes, Sherlock realises he isn't actually sure what he wants to say.

Thank you for staying for dinner tonight.

Thank you for keeping the conversation on my mother and not letting her talk about me.

Did you do that on purpose?

Did you know what you were doing?

Did you know what sort of things my mother would say if you'd given her the chance?

Thank you.

When a couple of seconds pass in silence, John just smiles and says, "Goodnight, Sherlock."

Sherlock wonders, as John walks away, if John knew what Sherlock was going to say there too, even though Sherlock hardly knew himself.

OoO

"Mummy tells me you've been spending quite a lot of time with one of your classmates," Mycroft says over breakfast, on one of the weekends that Mycroft has chosen to spend at home.

Sherlock's immediate response is to sink down lower in his chair, and to raise the book that he is reading so that he is blocking his view of Mycroft, and Mycroft's view of his face. It's a childish way of saying that this conversation is over before it has even begun.

"Sherlock," Mycroft says in a slightly exasperated tone of voice. "Only children believe that someone cannot see you if you cannot see them."

Sherlock lowers the book to glare at his brother, and then immediately raises it again. "I have a major project due and my professor insists that I work on it with someone else," he states. "So, naturally, I have been spending a lot of time with my partner in the interest of getting the project done and ensuring it is of a high quality. I'm not sure why mother believes that this is an important enough topic to discuss with you. I'm sure you have far more important things to do, like run the country."

"I don't run the country, Sherlock, don't be dramatic."

"I wasn't."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Mummy thinks you've made a friend," he says, and he spits the word as though it's something distasteful.

"He's not my friend," Sherlock says, feeling oddly defensive. "He's my lab partner, and the only reason I am working with him at all is because my professor insisted on it."

Mycroft gives him a sceptical look, and Sherlock immediately wants to make another argument. It's true, he wants to say. He did try to convince his professor to let him work alone at first. He would not have partnered with John if he had had another option. He's only John's partner because his professor enforced it.

And yet, Mycroft's sceptical look makes Sherlock want to squirm, because Mycroft is the one person whose intelligence might actually exceed Sherlock's, and if Mycroft is ever sceptical about something, it's usually for good reason. If Mycroft ever does not believe what Sherlock has said, it is usually because whatever it is that Sherlock has said is not true.

"What?" Sherlock says.

Mycroft replies with a faux-innocent look. "Nothing, Sherlock," he says. "I merely thought that you of all people would have been resourceful enough to find a way around your professor's request. Or, I would have expected you to agree on paper but still work by yourself, rather than inviting your partner over for 'study sessions'. That is, presuming you really did want to work alone."

"Of course I wanted to work alone," Sherlock argues.

"Did you?"

Sherlock lifts his book up higher to block his view of Mycroft again, and says nothing.

"Don't get attached, Sherlock," Mycroft says quietly after a pause.

Sherlock doesn't respond.

OoO

Sherlock is familiar with the terms that people often use to describe him, and the things that people say about him behind his back. Freak, psychopath, madman – these words are nothing new for him. He has heard similar things throughout his entire life – if not these precise words, then words that imply more or less the same thing. Sherlock is used to it. He has learnt to filter it out and ignore it.

John, however, is not used to hearing such words, even though the words in question are not directed towards him. It does not matter to John that Sherlock does not care what other people say. John cares what other people say about Sherlock, even though Sherlock does not really understand why.

This much is made clear one day at lunch. They wander side-by-side through the hall, engrossed in conversation. Although Sherlock's attention is primarily on John and what they are talking about, Sherlock is always aware of his surroundings at least to some extent. It does not escape his notice that Sally Donovan, walking in the opposite direction to them, changes directions just enough so that she can shove Sherlock's shoulder as she walks past.

Sherlock knows why she did this. Sherlock recently commented on Sally's relationship with one of their peers. Apparently, that relationship had been a secret. Sally has never liked Sherlock, but her dislike has become hatred since that particular conversation.

"Watch it, freak," Sally spits as she walks past. Sherlock barely processes it. Whatever word Sally Donovan refers to him by does not affect him, and he does not want to waste valuable brain power paying attention to her and the things that she says.

John, however, has a different view. He cuts off his words mid-sentence and whirls around on Sally. "I think you're supposed to apologise when you run into someone, not insult them," he says.

"I don't see him apologising," Sally says, turning around to face them.

"Well, that might be because you were the one who ran into him."

Sally crosses her arms over her chest and glares. "Well, even if I did," she says, "I don't see why I should waste my breath. It's not like he has any concept of manners."

"He's always been perfectly well-mannered towards me."

"That's because he likes you." There's a sneer in Sally's voice as she speaks. She makes it sound like the concept of Sherlock liking someone is something to be ashamed of or disgusted by. She makes it sound like a joke.

"I don't think it's because he likes me as much as it's because I don't treat him like you do," John replies without hesitation. "I don't know, maybe if you tried treating him a bit better, you'd both get along."

"Get along with him? Not likely."

John glances at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, and then he returns his gaze to Sally. "You know what, you're right," he says. "If I were him, I wouldn't put any effort into getting along with someone who treats me the way you do anyway."

And with that, John turns, taking quick strides away from Sally before she has the chance to reply. Sally stares at Sherlock for a moment, before letting out a disgruntled sigh and storming away herself.

Sherlock, for a short moment, is so stunned by the conversation that he remains where he is, before hurrying to catch up with John before John leaves his field of vision.

When he reaches John's side, he realises that the reason why John is walking away so swiftly is not merely because John wanted to make a dramatic exit. John is genuinely angry.

"I don't know what she thinks gives her the right to talk to you like that," John says, shoving open the door at the end of the hall with his shoulder. "I mean, how dare she treat you like that?"

"It hardly matters," Sherlock says. "I do not hold her opinion in high enough esteem to care what she thinks of me."

"That doesn't make it okay!" John says, raising his voice slightly. It's clear that John is far more angered by Sally's behaviour than Sherlock himself is – despite the fact that the behaviour in question had been directed towards Sherlock and not John.

"It really bothers you," Sherlock says.

"Hm?"

"What people think of me."

John – who had glanced over at Sherlock when he spoke – turns his attention once more to the path in front of him. "I just think you don't deserve that kind of treatment," he says.

"But why would you care?" Sherlock asks, genuinely confused. "She wasn't talking about you."

"No, but she was talking about you," John says. "And you're my friend."

Sherlock opens his mouth to respond, but the best he can do is, "Oh." It's possibly the least intelligent thing he's ever had to say.

OoO

The night before their project is due, it's still not finished.

It's certainly not for lack of effort. It feels like they have done nothing but work on this project for the last few weeks – lunch times, after school, and, of course, the allocated in-class time. However, the project design they chose is not an easy one. Neither of them ever believed it to be. Even with all the time they have spent on it, there is still more to go.

In their defence, they're almost done. They finished the actual, practical experiment weeks ago, and they have almost finished writing the paper itself. It's just a case of finalising their discussion and writing the conclusion (and, every student's dread – proofreading). Technically speaking, they could do it quickly, in the last few minutes that they have before the library closes for the evening. However, both of them are determined to do well – John motivated by his ambitions to get a scholarship, Sherlock motivated by his interest in the project and his desire to be the best at anything he finds highly interesting. Finishing their assignment in a rush job is not likely to lead them to the grades they want.

"I'll finish it," Sherlock says when they step out of the library, once the librarian finally insists that they leave. "I don't need to sleep."

John – completely unsurprisingly – shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't want to pin that on you and leave you without help," he says.

"We're almost done," Sherlock points out, "and even if I wasn't working on this, I would probably stay up anyway. Sleeping is tedious. There's always something more interesting to do."

"Still," John says. "I'm not going to be able to get any sleep knowing you're up finishing the project anyway. I don't mind pulling an all-nighter every now and again if I need to."

Sherlock studies John's face for a moment, and he knows from John's expression that John is not likely to change his mind. Even though Sherlock has insisted that he is happy to finish the project, John will not let Sherlock work alone. And, Sherlock thinks, maybe it is better if they finish it together anyway.

"All right," Sherlock says at last. "You can come back to my house. I'm sure you'd be welcome to stay the night if need be – my mother adores you."

OoO

It is a long night.

Sherlock is used to staying awake – if he needs to, he can go days with a minimal amount of sleep – but John does not have the same experience. Even after two cups of coffee, Sherlock can see the way John is starting to drift off over the top of his laptop, each blink getting a little bit longer. The fact that he opted to sit on the end of Sherlock's bed probably isn't helping, but the desk is not big enough for two.

"You can go to sleep," Sherlock says, causing John to start with surprise and then shake his head as though to wake himself up."

"No," he says. "No, I'm fine, I'm awake."

"Barely."

John shoots him a glare. "I'll get more coffee, and then I'll be awake," he says, and he steps out of the room to pour another cup before Sherlock can tell him that even the coffee might be a lost cause now.

OoO

After another cup of coffee, another discussion of whether John's current level of consciousness can be classified as 'awake', and a brief debate about the correct way to use in-text citations, they manage to finish the project. It's about three o'clock in the morning.

They take the time to proofread it, and neither of them pick up on any glaring errors, but they are both aware that it is entirely possible that they're simply too tired to notice their own mistakes. At least, John is aware of this. Sherlock has enough confidence in his mental faculties to believe that there are no causes for concern. And, of course, given they do not have the time to get a good night's rest and re-read it when they're less sleep-deprived, the project is as good as it's going to get.

Sherlock sends the project to the printer, and then he creeps downstairs – carefully sneaking past his mother's room – to collect it. He staples it, flicks through to make sure that all of their graphs and diagrams have not moved positions without them noticing it, and then he returns to his room.

When he steps through the door, he finds that John has fallen asleep.

It's not just the nodding-off-then-starting-awake kind of sleep that John had been drifting towards earlier. He has lain himself down on the edge of Sherlock's bed, curled up with his head pillowed on his arm. He does not so much as stir even when Sherlock pushes the door shut behind him.

John's laptop is still sitting open on the bed beside John, and Sherlock moves quietly to pick it up and move it so that there is no risk of John rolling over in his sleep and landing on top of it. The moment the laptop is off the bed, the change in the distribution of weight over the mattress causes John to shift and roll over, curling into the warm spot that the laptop has left behind.

In sleep, John's expression looks soft. The lines on his face are smoothed out and he looks peaceful, content.

Sherlock cannot bring himself to wake him.

Instead, Sherlock takes a spare blanket from the top of his wardrobe and carefully drapes it over John's body, before taking a seat at his desk. He had had no intentions of going to sleep anyway, not when he has to be awake in a few hours. John will make better use of the bed than Sherlock would have. Instead, Sherlock passes his time by jumping through various internet articles, following links to different pages and eventually ending up on entirely new topics, passing the time by reading about crimes and chemicals and anything else that catches his eye.

Sherlock is careful with every move he makes, because he does not want to make too much noise and accidentally wake John.

In his head, he can hear his brother's voice. He can hear his brother tell him not to get attached, because caring for someone means putting oneself at risk. Caring is a disadvantage, Mycroft's voices says in his head. Do not let yourself get too close.

Sherlock looks over at John, who has curled himself tighter underneath the blanket, and he thinks that it might be too late.

OoO

They submit their assignment the next morning, but their association does not end there.

John abandons his seat at the front of the class, in favour of sitting next to Sherlock instead. He's still just as attentive and as studious as he was when he was sitting at the front, still taking notes about whatever their professor says, but in between writing those notes he can now get away with writing notes to Sherlock in the margins of his page.

Pay attention, he writes one day when he catches Sherlock fiddling with his phone underneath his desk. Sherlock thinks for a moment that John is genuinely frustrated with Sherlock's behaviour, until he catches the ghost of a smile that is playing on John's lips.

In the corner of his own book, Sherlock writes, I don't need to. I know this already.

He catches John furrow his brow. John's entire face moves when he is confused. Lines appear on his forehead and sometimes he even wrinkles his nose.

John writes, How? We've never covered this before.

Sherlock writes, Not in this class. Read about it in one of my brother's textbooks when I was younger.

John writes, How old were you?

Sherlock writes, 12.

John reads the number on Sherlock's page, and then he looks up at Sherlock with a visibly surprised look on his face. It makes Sherlock hide a smile.

Sherlock adds onto his note, Surely my intelligence has ceased surprising you now.

In response, John leans over, writing in the corner of Sherlock's page instead of on his own. You'll never cease surprising me.

Sherlock is grateful that the teacher then proceeds to call on him to answer a question, because he isn't sure how he could have responded to that.

OoO

Their time together is not limited to their shared chemistry class.

They get in a routine of taking lunch together. At first, it is only on the days that their chemistry class is immediately before their lunch break, but as time goes on, it becomes more frequent. It's easy for Sherlock to memorise John's schedule, to know where his classes finish and where he is likely to take lunch on any one day. Sometimes, Sherlock runs into him by chance, because the school is not huge and people tend to stick to the same few areas at lunch time. Sometimes, Sherlock goes to a certain location where he thinks John might be on purpose. After a month or so has passed, it becomes the norm for them to find one another after class.

It's strange, spending so much time with someone else after Sherlock has grown up wanting to be alone and work alone. Even stranger is the fact that he likes it. He finds he even craves John's company; given the choice between spending his lunch hours alone or spending them with John, more often than not, he will choose John. There is something nice about the companionable silence in the library, when they sit across from each other in the lead-up to exams. It's nice, during the less-busy weeks, to sit in the cafeteria or, weather-permitting, in the sun and just talk.

Sherlock never has to censor himself, with John. Mind, Sherlock has never censored himself with anyone, but in most cases, this usually leads to people calling him some variation of 'Freak' and walking away. John never walks away, and John never tells Sherlock to piss off when he makes deductions (either about John or about someone else). On the contrary – often, when Sherlock makes deductions, John will say something like "Amazing" or "Fantastic" or some other such word that makes something warm and light blossom in Sherlock's chest. Sherlock knows that he is clever, but so many of his deductions are with regards to things that are so blindingly obvious and unbearably simple to him, he has never believed that they are anything to be awestruck by.

And yet, to John, they are something marvellous, something that causes John to give Sherlock that look – a look that Sherlock cannot quite name, but it makes Sherlock feel warm and makes Sherlock want to keep making deductions, just so that John will keep looking at him that way.

Mycroft gives Sherlock a look, too, whenever Sherlock comes home late because Sherlock has been spending time with John after school. The look that Mycroft gives Sherlock is not one that causes a warm and fuzzy feeling. It is a look that makes Sherlock want to squirm, like a child caught with his hand inside a cookie jar. It's a look that says Mycroft knows exactly where Sherlock has been, who he has been with, and, worst of all, exactly how Sherlock is feeling.

Sherlock hates the look that Mycroft gives him, because he has the strangest idea that Mycroft might know how Sherlock is feeling better than Sherlock himself.

OoO

Sherlock's face hurts. His left eye is swollen shut; he cannot see out of it. He can taste blood on his lip and he knows that there is more pooling out of his nostrils.

The words, Sherlock can ignore. Sherlock does not care if people call him a freak, or a psychopath, or a weirdo. What is much harder to ignore is when Sherlock's peers decided to demonstrate their opinions of Sherlock in a much more physical manner. Usually, Sherlock is fast enough to keep himself out of reach, at least until he can either get home or get to class. This time, he hasn't been quite so lucky.

John has already gone home for the day. John had had a free period last thing in the afternoon and had not seen the point in staying around. Sherlock had stayed around, because he had wanted to use the chemistry lab, and it just meant that he had been there when the school was empty enough for his attackers to find him and get away with hurting him without anyone being around to see.

He walks home, hyper-aware of the pain in his face and not so aware of where it is that he is actually going. He hasn't realised that he has taken the route to John's house instead of his own home until he finds himself standing on John's doorstep.

He raises his fist to knock, and then hesitates, and lowers it again. Maybe it is better that John does not see him like this. Plus, John does not live alone, and the last thing Sherlock wants is for someone like John's sister or John's father to open the door instead.

He turns to take his leave, but he gets no more than a few steps towards the path before the door opens behind him, and he hears John's voice.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turns to look over his shoulder, and John's expression shifts when he sees Sherlock's face, portraying a number of different emotions. Shock, horror, sadness. Sherlock wipes some of the blood from beneath his nose away with the back of his hand.

"Come inside," John says after a moment. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Sherlock has never been inside John's house before. He's walked home with John a couple of times, because they do not live far from each other, but he has never had the opportunity to step inside. He wishes his eyes weren't so swollen so he could actually take it in properly. He does what he can under the circumstances, looking around as John leads him into the living room. John's house is smaller than Sherlock's. It's quaint, really. They pass the kitchen on the way to the living room, and Sherlock notices an empty bottle of some sort of alcohol sitting in the sink.

When they reach the living room, John places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder to guide him down to the sofa. "You're lucky I heard you outside," he says. "Were you really going to go home looking like this without coming to see me?"

"You're not a doctor yet, John," Sherlock says.

"No, but I can do a better job cleaning you up than you would have done yourself. What happened?"

"Obviously, I got punched. Multiple times."

"Yes, I can see that. I was more interested in who did this."

"Does it matter?"

"You're damn right it does. I need to know whose arse I'm kicking."

Sherlock tips his head to the side, peering up at John through swollen eyes. "Don't you have some sort of moral compass thing that stops you from hurting people?" he asks.

"Only applies to innocent people," John says calmly, and Sherlock has absolutely no idea how serious John is being.

He reaches up and touches his own eye to examine the bruising, and he winces as he discovers how tender the skin is there. Immediately, John bats his hand away.

"Don't do that," he says sternly. "Wait here, I'll go get my first-aid kit. Try not to make it any worse."

(Sherlock technically doesn't disobey John's instructions, simply because his eye is far too bruised for his poking and prodding to make it any worse.)

When John returns, he brings with him a first-aid kit, along with a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth. He sits on the sofa facing Sherlock, with one leg folded up underneath him and the other bent so that his foot reaches the floor. He has to sit close to Sherlock so that he can reach him. Sherlock tries not to think about John's knee against his, warm even through layers of clothing.

John soaks the washcloth in the bowl, wrings it out, and then leans forward. He holds the washcloth in one hand, and with the other, he gently frames Sherlock's face. Sherlock knows that this is to hold him steady, to stop Sherlock from turning his head away from the washcloth. He tries not to think about the intimacy of the touch, the warmth of John's palm against the line of his jaw, both firm and gentle.

He tries not to wonder if John cups someone's face like this when he kisses them.

With the way John's fingers are positioned, if John really paid attention, he could probably feel Sherlock's pulse point. He wonders if John has noticed the way that Sherlock's heart rate picked up the moment John touched him.

John's eyes focus on Sherlock's face, carefully dabbing away the blood with the washcloth. It hurts, because Sherlock's face is bruised and tender, but John is excessively gentle. Sherlock distracts himself by focusing on John's eyes, watching as they move to different spots on Sherlock's face. They're almost crossed, so that John can see him while he's sitting so close.

From a distance, John's eyes look dark, almost brown. Up close, they're not. They're blue. They're not just blue, however – there are flecks of green, and a ring of hazel around the pupil that is only visible when the light hits it just right. John's eyes almost seem to change colour as they move around Sherlock's face. There is something captivating about that.

Sherlock doesn't realise that John has been trying to talk to him until John pulls the washcloth away and frowns.

"Earth to Sherlock, you in there?" he says.

"Hm?"

"God, you're out of it, aren't you?" John says, returning to his task of cleaning Sherlock's face now that he has Sherlock's attention. "I hope these guys didn't give you a concussion."

"They didn't," Sherlock says. "I was merely thinking."

Sherlock is pleased with how steady his voice sounds.

"Okay," John says. "So what happened? How'd you end up getting into a fight?"

"You're aware that people generally tell me to piss off when I make deductions," Sherlock says, his voice catching mid-sentence as John touches a particularly tender part of his face and makes him wince. He recovers quickly. "Sometimes, people tell me to piss off without words."

John purses his lips. "What deduction did you make?"

"I pointed out to one of our classmates that his girlfriend had been keeping her distance from him intentionally in the hopes that he would soon fall out of whatever feeling he has for her and break up with her. She quite clearly did not love him anymore but did not want to break up with him out of fear for the way that he might react."

Sherlock is aware that this is the kind of deduction that is more likely to get him hurt. He expects John to tell him as much, to say something along the lines of, 'Well, that would be why he hit you, then.'

Instead, John says, "Well, I'm not surprised his girlfriend doesn't love him anymore if he's the sort of person who hits people."

Sherlock lets out a soft hum of agreement, and they fall silent.

It's a few moments later when John finishes cleaning Sherlock's face, and he puts the washcloth down into the bowl. "Well," he says. "You're slightly less likely to give your mother a heart attack now. Slightly." A beat, and he adds, "Your eye will hurt for a while. The only thing I can recommend is icing it to help the swelling go down."

Sherlock nods his head in acknowledgement, although he's certainly not diligent enough with his health and wellbeing to actually do as John says. He's barely even heard it, because certain other senses seem to have overridden his sense of hearing.

His face is tender, but not enough to justify the way that he can still feel the imprint of John's hands on his skin, even once John stands up and steps away.

OoO

They receive the marks for their project a few days later.

They get the highest mark in the class.

Sherlock is pleased, because proving that he is intelligent and achieving results on something that he did dedicate a lot of time and effort to is satisfying. Mostly, however, Sherlock is satisfied because of the bright, shocked-yet-ecstatic look that comes over John's face when their professor hands their paper back.

It brings them closer together, in a sense. The mark at the top of the paper, circled in red, tells them what they already believed to be the case – they make a great team. The mark is proof that they work well together, which makes them want to continue to work together (even when it's not mandatory – which is saying a lot given that Sherlock has never wanted to work with anyone before).

So they work together on projects in the chemistry class they share, and they even take to helping one another in their other classes too. They can bounce ideas off each other when planning independent projects, and they study together for exams. Sherlock helps John with memory techniques and quizzes him in the lead-up to exams to keep him on his toes. John helps Sherlock by proofreading his essays and pointing out all the areas where Sherlock had begun assuming too much knowledge in his audience and has skipped ahead and is not making sense.

When they don't have assessments, sometimes John will help Sherlock with the experiments that he chooses to run on his own, just for fun.

More accurately, Sherlock does the experiment and John sits and occasionally passes Sherlock things and once or twice puts out a minor fire.

They're practically joined at the hip – where you find one, you know the other is not far away. Sometimes other students will ask Sherlock where to find John – often they will refer to John as Sherlock's "better half". Sherlock does not mind it. Sherlock does not mind any of it. He has never felt this close to anyone before. It feels like nothing could come between them.

Then John starts dating.

OoO

Sherlock has always known that John likes girls. Anyone who pays even a little bit of attention to John would know this. John's gaze shifts whenever an aesthetically-pleasing girl walks past. He talks to girls in a different way to the way he talks to boys – it takes Sherlock a while, but he eventually realises that the difference is that when he talks to girls, he is flirting. John leans a little bit closer, smiles a little bit brighter, finds extra excuses to touch their arms or to take their hands in his. Sherlock would also guess that John's heart rate speeds up when he is around girls, too, but Sherlock has never been physically close enough to John while he's around a girl to confirm this.

Sherlock has tried to look at girls, to see what John sees when John looks at them. When he thinks about it, Sherlock can acknowledge that some girls are aesthetically pleasing. He knows that there are certain features that are generally accepted to be attractive; he can acknowledge that there is something pleasing about the symmetry of a girl's face or the smoothness of her skin. However, this is as far as his acknowledgement goes. He can acknowledge when John might find a girl attractive, but Sherlock is not attracted to them himself. How pretty a girl is does not even catch Sherlock eyes automatically. When Sherlock meets someone – girls, boys, anyone – he immediately collects data to make deductions, based off the way they dress or the way they hold themselves. How pretty they are does not give Sherlock any data to work with.

So, Sherlock cannot see what John sees when John looks at girls. He doesn't understand how it must feel for John, what John experiences when he decides that he want to date one of the girls in their class. Sherlock has tried looking at boys, instead, but that's little different. There's a part of Sherlock that might feel a little more drawn to boys than he is to girls, that much is true, but Sherlock can hardly be drawn to the boys at school when their behaviour towards him is so unpleasant to experience.

Then there's John, and John is another story entirely.

Objectively speaking, John is attractive. Sherlock knows that he is not the only one who sees this, because Sherlock sees the way that girls look at John too. John's facial features are arranged in a way that is widely accepted as handsome. John is fit, well-built, which is something that should be attractive in a potential mate from an evolutionary standpoint. John's eyes are a mixture of colours that change when the light hits them in certain ways. They seem to brighten when he is happy. John's smile seems to light up a room, and it's almost contagious. When John smiles at Sherlock, it feels like something shifts inside his chest.

Sherlock is vaguely aware that these last few points are not objective. Maybe Sherlock isn't objective about this. Maybe he never has been.

It's not just about the way John looks, however. It's so much more than that. Sherlock has heard in the past that it is a person's personality that makes them beautiful, and once upon a time, he would have thought this is ridiculous. Regardless of a person's personality, their facial features remain constant. Whether they are kind or rude has no bearing on that. However, the more Sherlock gets to know John, he realises that he was wrong about this. John is warm, and kind, and good, and it's like it shines through his skin and makes him glow. Physically, John is attractive, but his personality turns him into something that's far more breathtaking.

So Sherlock feels different around John. John is magnetic; Sherlock's eyes drift to him whenever they're together in a room. It's like there's a part of his brain, a part of his Mind Palace, that is permanently aware of John's presence, even when most of Sherlock's attention is on something else. When John stands too close, Sherlock is aware of the brush of his skin, or the tickle of John's breath against his ear when John leans close to be heard over the noise. Around John, everything seems heightened. Around John, Sherlock feels warm and his chest feels light.

But John doesn't look at Sherlock in the same way that Sherlock looks at John.

OoO

It's not like they stop being friends, of course. It's hardly as though people abandon all their friends when they start dating. However, the fact that John is now dating does mean that they do not spend as much time with one another as they used to. Sometimes, Sherlock will suggest an activity, and John will decline, because he already has plans with his girlfriend at the time.

Sherlock doesn't like to consider himself to be a jealous person. He knows he should not be jealous, because John is not and never would be his, and even if he wasn't dating Sarah, or Jeanette, or the one with the spots, or the one with the dog, he would not be dating Sherlock. Plus, all the girls that John dates are so much less intelligent than Sherlock, so they are nothing to be jealous about. However, that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, when John chooses to spend time with them and Sherlock is on his own.

Of course, it's not like it completely comes between them. They still see each other almost every day, and John's love life isn't going to stop that.

What does stop that is John's graduation.

OoO

With John's dedication and John's grades, it's no surprise that he gets the scholarship he's been working towards from the start. He gets into Cambridge, which is exactly where John wanted to go. Sherlock is glad that John is happy, but it puts John a couple hours away from Sherlock's home.

Sherlock has spent most of his life alone, but the months that follow John's graduation are the first time Sherlock has ever felt lonely.

OoO

Although they are apart, they do not fall apart. The benefit of living in today's day and age is that friendships are not limited by distance. They text and they email, and it's not the same as sitting together at lunch or passing notes beneath the desk, but it's better than nothing. Plus, two hours isn't really that far, and John has the option to come home from time to time on weekends.

It's not enough, it's not the same, but it will do.

OoO

School is infinitely more tedious this year.
SH

Aren't you supposed to be in class?
- JW

I am in class.
SH

Aren't you supposed to be paying attention in class, then?
- JW

Dull.
SH

Everything is dull in your mind.
- JW

Obviously. Tell me university is at least marginally more intellectually stimulating than school.
SH

It's definitely more intellectually stimulating. You might even find some of the things that I'm learning challenging. Chem isn't quite as exciting without you blowing things up next to me, though.
- JW

I only blew things up once.
SH

I count 3 times at least.
- JW

They were controlled explosions, they don't count.
SH

Our professor would disagree.
- JW

Our professor was an idiot.
SH

You think everyone is an idiot.
- JW

Most people are.
SH

You're a real charmer, you know that?
- JW

Go pay attention in class like you're supposed to.
- JW

Dull.
SH

Yes, you've said. Go on, behave.
- JW

Yes, mother.
SH

And Sherlock?
- JW

I miss you too.
- JW

OoO

When the Christmas break approaches, Sherlock's mother starts planning a Christmas party.

It's nothing extravagant, and involves no more than their immediate family, but it's certainly not something they do every year. When Sherlock asks why they're bothering, his mother gives him some nonsense about Christmas time being family time, and with Mycroft now off and working in the real world like a proper adult, and Sherlock beginning his search for universities for next year, she thinks it's a good time for them to all get together.

Mycroft complains vocally, and Sherlock, while not so vocal, certainly doesn't make it seem like he's thrilled. However, his mother has her mind set on having this party and when Sherlock's mother has her mind set on something, there's no stopping her.

OoO

A few weeks prior to Christmas, Sherlock realised that there is one thing that would make the party much less unbearable.

He suggests the idea to his mother one afternoon, when she is in a good mood and most likely to be agreeable. "Can I invite John over for Christmas?"

Sherlock expects that he will need to make a strong argument. He expects his mother to insist that the party was supposed to be for family only. Sherlock expects to need to explain that that is exactly why he wants John to come.

To his surprise, his mother meets his suggestion with no argument whatsoever. If anything, she seems thrilled with the idea.

Sherlock goes from dreading Christmas to looking forward to it.

OoO

Sherlock's excitement lasts up until he gets a reply to the invitation text. John already has plans for Christmas with his girlfriend and her family.

It makes something in Sherlock's chest feel colder than the weather should permit.

OoO

Sherlock had not been looking forward to Christmas in the first place, when his mother had first brought up the idea, but somehow, the knowledge that John could have been with him but will not be makes it even more unbearable.

It makes it worse still when his mother brings John up in conversation over Christmas lunch.

"It's a shame that John couldn't make it, isn't it?" she says. She doesn't take the hint from Sherlock's silence that this is not something Sherlock wants to discuss. "I suppose he wanted to spend Christmas with his family, didn't he?"

Sherlock knows that he should keep his mouth shut, because anything he says will further this conversation, and he really, really wants it to stop, but he finds he can't help himself. "He's not with his family," he says tightly. "He's with his girlfriend."

He tries not to spit the word, but he knows from the look that Mycroft gives him that he failed.

His mother, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice. Instead, she says, "Oh, how lovely. How long have they been together?"

Sherlock shrugs his shoulders in response, both because he doesn't know for sure and because he doesn't want to keep talking.

His mother says, "It must be pretty serious, mustn't it, if they're together over Christmas."

Sherlock finishes the last mouthful of his dinner and excuses himself so that he doesn't have to hear any more of this.

OoO

Later, Sherlock sits up in his room and twists his phone around in his hands. Part of him wants to text John, but he knows that John probably won't reply if he's too busy with his girlfriend. It's worse to think of John not replying to a text that Sherlock sends than it is to think about John just not texting him to start off with.

He wonders what John is doing right now. He knows he shouldn't think about it, but he cannot help himself. He wonders if he's sitting around the table, making small talk with his girlfriend's parents, presenting himself as the perfect boyfriend that Sherlock knows John must be. He wonders what John's girlfriend's parents think about John. Do they consider him a lovely young man, just like Sherlock's own mother does? Are they pleased that their daughter has decided to date someone so perfect?

He wonders if John is holding his girlfriend's hand under the table, or resting his hand on her knee. He wonders if they're kissing whenever they're out of her parent's line of sight. He wonders if they're sharing a room, if John holds her while they fall asleep.

When there is a faint knock at the door some time later, Sherlock does not respond. He does not want to speak to his family; he wants to be left alone. Unfortunately, the person behind the door does not take a hint. There's another knock, and then the door opens, and Sherlock glances up briefly to see his brother enter before he looks away again. Sherlock feels like he's six years old again, sitting up in the dark after making that one deduction that had caused so much harm, alone until Mycroft had come to give him that one message that had always stuck in Sherlock's mind – and the one message that Sherlock had completely disregarded.

Mycroft takes a seat on the edge of Sherlock's bed, and Sherlock immediately angles his body away from him.

"I don't recall inviting you in," Sherlock says.

"I do not recall you telling me to go away, either," Mycroft replies.

"Go away."

Mycroft doesn't.

Sherlock exaggerates turning even further so he's completely facing the other way.

Silence stretches between them for a moment, until Mycroft is the one to break it. "I did warn you, Sherlock," he says. "You knew from the start that this was a risk."

"I didn't ask for your advice, Mycroft."

"That does not mean you should not have taken it."

"If you've got nothing more creative to say than I told you so, then I suggest you leave."

Mycroft remains quiet for a moment, but apparently, 'I told you so' was the extent that Mycroft actually has to say. A moment later, he gets to his feet. "You knew better, Sherlock, and yet you let yourself care anyway. You brought this on yourself."

Sherlock says nothing, and after a moment, Mycroft walks away, and Sherlock is alone.

OoO

A few minutes later, Sherlock's phone buzzes, and Sherlock all but trips over himself to pick it up. John's name lights up on the screen.

If I have to sit through one more board game, I might scream.
- JW

Sherlock's chest suddenly feels lighter.

OoO

John breaks up with his girlfriend a little after New Year's Day. Sherlock deduces that John would have done so sooner, because their uncomfortable Christmas together must have made it clear that they were not as compatible as partners should be, but John is a kind enough person to not let his now ex-girlfriend associate the time between Christmas and New Years with a breakup. The added bonus is that John and his girlfriend break up on fairly amicable turns – as it turns out, John's girlfriend had not enjoyed Christmas together either.

It frees up a substantial proportion of John's time, and John spends the rest of his break with Sherlock.

Sherlock tries not to feel smug.

He fails.

OoO

John goes back to university, and Sherlock goes back to school. He graduates this year. He's almost done, almost free.

There's a timer in the back of Sherlock's mind now, constantly counting down the number of days until graduation.

215 days to go.

OoO

Have you started applying for uni yet?
- JW

Technically, the deadline isn't until January next year.
SH

That does not mean you can afford to wait until next year. Especially if you're going for one of the more prestigious universities.
- JW

What makes you think I'm going for a more prestigious university?
SH

Are you kidding? This is you were talking about. As if you could stand going to a less-prestigious university and being around "idiots".
- JW

Maybe I don't plan on going to university at all.
SH

Is that true?
- JW

There are no university degrees that can form a pathway to my desired career.
SH

Why? What's your desired career?
- JW

Consulting detective. I invented the job.
SH

You can't invent jobs and expect to actually find a job in that area.
- JW

You can if you are intelligent enough.
SH

Right. Well, why can't you just do university degrees that would help you get a regular detective job? Surely then you can branch out into "consulting detective". Whatever that is.
- JW

Many detectives start as police officers, and police officers do not necessarily need a specific degree to get a job. Some positions want a degree in criminal justice or law enforcement, but that is not what I want to study. I could gain a perfectly adequate understanding of the criminal justice system from the internet. I do not need to sit in a class and be talked at.
SH

You're going to sit in a class and be talked at regardless of what degree you do, you realise.
- JW

I acknowledge that. That being said, there are certain classes that would have a more prevalent practical component to balance it out.
SH

Chemistry.
- JW

Exactly.
SH

You'd do really well in a chem degree. And you'd enjoy it a lot more than school. So much of it is self-directed, you'd get the chance to make your own experiments all the time.
- JW

I expect as much.
SH

Do you know what uni you're going to apply for?
- JW

Cambridge's chemistry department is ranked the best in England.
SH

It is, isn't it? :)
- JW

The emoticon was unnecessary.
SH

Emoticons are always necessary.
- JW

Obviously, I do not want you to choose a uni based solely on the fact that I'm there, and I wouldn't expect you to anyway, but if you did happen to get into Cambridge, I'd be very happy.
- JW

Of course you would.
SH

That's Sherlock speak for "I too would be happy but I'm not going to say that because emotions are below me".
- JW

That's not what I said.
SH

No, it's subtext. Trust me, I know you.
- JW

Anyway. I really need to finish this essay that you've been distracting me from. Talk soon!
- JW

OoO

Sometimes, Sherlock dreams.

They are rarely linear, but more often consist of fragments, bits and piece she that don't make a perfect story but that make sense while he is asleep. They're innocent, undoubtedly far more so than the dreams that many of his classmates would have had throughout their teenage years, but all the same, they make Sherlock feel warm.

He dreams of John feeling the way he feels. He dreams of John telling him as much – sometimes with words, sometimes without. Sometimes he dreams that they are together – he never knows when or how it started, but in the dreams, it feels right. Sometimes he dreams of the way it might feel if John were to kiss him.

He would have thought that by now the dreams would have stopped – or, at least, that he would have stopped feeling the way he feels when he wakes up.

That said, with John, a lot of things don't go the way he would expect.

OoO

You know what I just thought of?
- JW

Something so remarkably interesting that you had to text me about it immediately?
SH

Exactly. Your formal is coming up.
- JW

You and I have very different definitions of interesting.
SH

It's your last major high school social event, a celebration of your graduation, and the last time you will see most of the people you've practically grown up with. It's pretty exciting.
- JW

I beg to differ.
SH

Yeah, you would. "I'm Sherlock Holmes and I'm far too cool for formals with lowly peasants."
- JW

That's hardly my reasoning.
SH

Might as well be.
- JW

So. Are you asking someone?
- JW

Asking someone what?
SH

Don't play stupid, it doesn't suit you. Asking someone to formal!
- JW

That would be pointless, seeing as I had no intention to attend myself.
SH

WHAT?
- JW

Were the capital letters really necessary?
SH

Always. But seriously, you're not going?
- JW

Of course not. Why does this surprise you?
SH

Because it's FORMAL.
- JW

Again with the capital letters. It doesn't change the definition of the word, nor my decision on the matter.
SH

Well it should. You have to go.
- JW

I have to do no such thing. It's not mandated, it has no bearing on my graduation, and there are no negative repercussions for not going.
SH

The negative repercussion is that you're going to miss formal. You'll be missing out!
- JW

Highly unlikely.
SH

Come on, Sherlock. It's the last time you're going to see all your classmates.
- JW

I'm sure that would be an excellent incentive if I actually got on with any of my classmates. However, I do not, and I cannot say that there is anyone currently at the school that I will miss after graduation.
SH

You might do. You might not realise it now but I know that there are people at the school who you've spoken to a bit, and you might actually miss them a bit. And then you'll regret not going to formal to say goodbye.
- JW

Given the fact that we live in a day and age that gives us access to mobile phones and the internet, if I did miss anyone – which is highly unlikely – I would be able to get in touch with them later. I do not need to go to formal to say goodbye.
SH

Come on, Sherlock. You won't know what you're missing unless you go. Maybe it would be nice for you to have some fond memories to look back on.
- JW

More likely, going to formal will be a waste of my time and result in absolutely no fond memories to look back on. I'd rather stay home and use my time more productively.
SH

Whatever you do at home can be left for one night.
- JW

It could, if there was something more important. Formal is not more important.
SH

It is! It's FORMAL.
- JW

And again with the capital letters. Are you hoping that repeating it enough will make me change my mind?
SH

Maybe.
- JW

Why are you so desperate for me to go? You're at uni and your life is in no way impacted by whether I choose to spend my Thursday night around a bunch of idiots in nice clothing or at home by myself.
SH

I just don't want you to miss out on what could actually be a really amazing night for you.
- JW

I will not be missing out on anything that is worth missing.
SH

No, seriously.
- JW

It's just. I know you. I know you have a tendency to keep to yourself, especially since I graduated, and I don't want you to be, you know, lonely.
- JW

I'm not lonely.
SH

You text me at almost every available opportunity, and you spend entire weekends with me whenever I come back home.
- JW

Which is okay, by the way. You're allowed to miss me.
- JW

I fail to see the point to this conversation.
SH

Just go to formal, Sherlock. I had a really good time at mine and I don't want you to miss out on that. - JW

You had a really good time at yours because you managed to convince Mary to go with you. She was all you talked about for weeks.
SH

Well, you could ask someone if you wanted to. Maybe then you'd be the one who does nothing but talk about your formal date.
- JW

Not likely.
SH

Oh come on. It's totally possible. What about Molly from biology? She'd probably jump for joy if you asked her to go with you. Once she stopped blushing.
- JW

I'm not interested.
SH

Of course you're not. You're above feelings. How could you do something as lowly as fancy someone?
- JW

It's almost a pity, really. You could have any girl you wanted.
- JW

I'll take your word for it.
SH

Or any guy you wanted, for that matter.
- JW

That's fine, by the way. If you like boys.
- JW

I know it's fine.
SH

Good. That's good.
- JW

So you do, you know, like boys?
- JW

I don't want to talk about this.
SH

Okay. Okay, fine. Just think about it, yeah? You deserve to be happy.
- JW

And my happiness is in any way dependent on whether or not I go to this formal and whether I take a partner with me?
SH

Course not. But if there is someone, I don't want you to shut yourself up because you're convinced you're not allowed to feel that way. If there is someone you want to ask to formal, then go for it.
- JW

A moment ago you were convinced I was above feelings, now you're convinced that there is someone I secretly want to ask to formal.
SH

I'm convinced that you think you're above feelings and you would intentionally try to ignore any romantic feelings you experienced. Which you shouldn't do, because it's nice to be with someone and it's a shame if you miss out on that because you're scared of the way you feel.
- JW

Is this conversation over?
SH

This conversation is never over.
- JW

I think it is. I'm going to bed.
SH

It's 9pm, there's no way you're actually going to bed this early.
- JW

I am if it will put an end to this.
SH

Fine, fine, spoilsport.
- JW

Just think about it, okay? Because I mean it. If you wanted to, you could have anyone you wanted.
- JW

No.
SH

You could.
- JW

No. Not anyone.
SH

What?
- JW

What's that supposed to mean?
- JW

Sherlock?
- JW

OoO

They don't text for a couple of weeks.

John tries, of course – he follows up with an "Are you okay?" text the next morning, a "Talk to me" a few days later and finally a "Text me back you moron, you're starting to worry me" the next week. Sherlock doesn't text back, because Sherlock does not want to have this conversation. He did not want to have that conversation in the first place. He did not mean to say the things he said, and he does not want to deal with the consequences.

He only ends up texting back when John starts a conversation with something completely unrelated to their last conversation – John texts about a part of his chemistry homework that he is struggling with. Sherlock is not stupid – Sherlock knows that John intentionally chose that topic of conversation because it's something that Sherlock is comfortable discussing, unrelated to the one thing Sherlock will not discuss, and thus the most likely topic that would lead Sherlock to text back. It works, only because Sherlock does not like not talking to John, either.

Formal doesn't come up in conversation again.

OoO

The closer formal gets, the harder it is to avoid hearing about it. Sherlock catches girls giggling to themselves in corners, flocking together in packs, apparently making it hard for boys to approach them. He sees couples start talking about how they're going to dress – apparently there is some need to colour code pocket squares and formal dresses. When the girls start buying their own dresses, suddenly laptop and phone screens and filled with images of people showing theirs off.

Sherlock doesn't want to think about it. Sherlock doesn't want anything to do with it.

Molly Hooper from biology pulls him aside after class one day, and Sherlock knows what she is going to say before she has opened her mouth. It's obvious in her body language, in the redness in her cheeks and the way she fiddles with her hair, twirling it around her finger.

He tells her he's not going to formal before she properly gets the words out. It makes her deflate, and her eyes drop to the floor.

After a moment, he tells her that he'd been under the impression that Greg Lestrade was going to ask her. It's not strictly speaking true, but it's not a lie that Greg has been stealing glances at Molly out of the corner of his eye for the better half of the year.

OoO

It's a relief when formal finally does come around, but not because Sherlock is going. Sherlock is not going. The thought of going never once crossed his mind. However, when formal finally comes, it means there are only hours before it finishes, and then Sherlock does not have to hear about it anymore. That, and the end of formal also means that it's almost time for graduation, and then Sherlock can get out of here and never come back, never see some of the people he's gone to school with for years.

He's lucky, staying at home, because he has the place to himself. His parents had booked some sort of overnight trip on the night of formal, likely under the assumption that Sherlock would actually go. The idea that they assumed that for even a second is ridiculous, but maybe his parents were holding onto some sort of wishful thinking. All the same, they do not cancel their trip at the discovery that Sherlock will be home that night, not when Sherlock insists that he's fine and would rather be alone anyway. He has the house to himself, which is ideal.

Everyone else will be at formal. Everyone else will be dancing and kissing and acting like normal people, nothing like Sherlock himself. Sherlock is glad that he's not there.

OoO

Sherlock expects to spend that night alone. He is prepared for it.

It doesn't turn out that way.

OoO

When the doorbell rings, Sherlock ignores it.

On the off chance that his parents have come home early, or his brother has decided to come home for the night, they wouldn't be ringing the doorbell. They all have keys and could let themselves in. Sherlock is most definitely not expecting visitors, because the only person who ever visits Sherlock is currently two hours away, and his family would not have invited anyone over while they are not here. So, when the doorbell rings, Sherlock concludes that it must be a charity person or a door-to-door salesperson, and he chooses to pretend he's not home.

This works up until the doorbell rings again.

And again.

And then there's a knock.

And another knock.

And it's clear that the person on the other side of the door isn't going anywhere.

Pretending to not be home is clearly not working – the person behind the door must know that Sherlock is in here. Maybe they caught sight of one of the lights turning on through the window. Letting out a loud sigh, Sherlock gets to his feet and storms over to the door, prepared to tell whatever salesperson is behind it to piss off in no polite terms.

He yanks the door open forcefully, and then freezes at the sight before him.

"It's about time," John says. There's a smile on his face. He has a bag slung over his shoulder, and a pile of DVDs under his arm. "I was beginning to think you'd lied to me and you'd actually decided to go to formal."

"You didn't tell me you were coming home," Sherlock says, which sounds like a terribly stupid thing to say once it's out of his mouth. It just makes John grin.

"Surprise," he says. "Not telling you was kind of the point."

"Why?"

John shrugs. "I was going to come back this weekend anyway, so I figured I might as well make it a day earlier. Besides, no one should be alone on formal night. Even geniuses who think they're too good for formals." He peers past Sherlock's shoulder, and then asks, "Can I come in, or are you busy?"

Sherlock steps aside to let John in.

OoO

"Okay," John says, going through his bag. "So, I brought a few different movies, and popcorn, and a few boxes of tea because I have serious doubts about the adequacy of your tea collection here..."

"You're acting as though I need cheering up," Sherlock says. When John looks up at him questioningly, he continues, "It's hardly as though I'm here as some clichéd, heartbroken teenager who didn't get a date to formal. I'm not at formal out of my own choice, and I was not disappointed to be home by myself. This is hardly necessary."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No," Sherlock says quickly. "Of course not. I'm merely pointing out that if I gave you the wrong impressions the last time we talked, and made you think I was..." He doesn't know how to end that sentence. Sad? Lonely?

John shakes his head. "You didn't. Trust me. Now, have you seen Inception? It'll mess with your head. I think you'll like it."

OoO

They curl up on the sofa, and John puts the movie on. The sofa is easily large enough for the two of them to sit side-by-side without touching, but Sherlock knows how to position himself so that he takes up a little bit more space than necessary without making it obvious that he is doing so. His knee brushes against John's, and he savours the warmth he can feel at that small point of contact between them.

Sherlock cannot help but wonder what John would do if Sherlock were to lean into him. Would he instinctively move away, or would he allow Sherlock to sit closer? Would John do anything if Sherlock were to, seemingly unintentionally, slouch against John's side, pressed together from shoulders to hips? Would John mind if Sherlock leaned his head on John's shoulder?

John probably would mind. That kind of position, that kind of contact, is not socially acceptable for friends. It should be socially acceptable for friends. Sherlock would like to be that close to John, physically, even though they are not romantically involved.

It's a terribly sentimental desire. Sherlock hates himself for it a little bit.

He watches the movie, but his attention is divided, as is always the way when John is involved. He's following the film's storyline, but he is more interested in watching John, studying his reaction to different parts. John is very expressive when he watches movies and television – which Sherlock knows, because they have had "movie nights" before. Even when John has seen a movie before, even several times, he smiles or laughs and generally demonstrates his enjoyment of them. It's always clear that he is invested in the storyline, even when he's seen it before.

John looks different this time to the way he normally looks when they watch movies. He does not seem as engrossed in it as he usually does. He looks distracted, and almost tense.

If John just looked distracted, Sherlock would assume that maybe this movie is one he has seen so many times that he is bored of it. However, that would not explain the tension that is visible in John's neck and shoulders. Is John stressed about something? Is he uncomfortable? There are certainly tense scenes in the movie, but nothing that really warrants this kind of reaction. It must be something unrelated to the movie, something that is occurring in John's life. Is it due to uni, to upcoming exams and assessments? Is it something to do with John's relationships? John hasn't mentioned a girlfriend recently – unless he did and Sherlock chose to tune him out, which isn't all that unlikely.

Is it something to do with tonight, with being here by Sherlock's side?

Sherlock shifts on the sofa so that he does not take up as much space, so his knee isn't pressing into John's.

OoO

When the movie finishes and the credits start rolling, John does not get up and make a move to turn it off. It reaffirms Sherlock's suspicions that something is wrong, but he cannot work out precisely what that is.

"Problem?" he asks, and John's head snaps towards Sherlock. He looks almost as though he has forgotten that Sherlock is there at all.

"No," John says. "No, no, no problem."

Sherlock frowns, because this certainly does not seem to be the case. There is a problem, there has to be a problem. Why else would John be behaving like this?

Sherlock considers pressing the topic, but it turns out, it's not necessary. John grabs the remote next to him and mutes the television, before turning so he is facing Sherlock.

"Okay," he says. "I'm going to make a deduction."

The statement sheds no light on the situation, and Sherlock furrows his brows, simultaneously intrigued and inexplicably nervous. "All right?" he says, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

"I'm going to make a deduction, and if I'm wrong, we're going to put on another movie and we'll never talk about this again. But if I'm not wrong, then you need to promise me you'll be honest."

Sherlock still isn't entirely certain where this has come from or where this is going, but he feels as tense as John looked earlier. His stomach churns, but, wordlessly, he nods his head.

"Okay," John says, and then he takes a breath, before finally saying, "You fancy me."

Immediately, thoughts spring to Sherlock's mind on how to respond, on how to deny it without making it seem like a lie. He's a good liar, he always has been. John will believe him, and they will move onto the next movie and they never have to have this conversation. Their friendship will not suffer; Sherlock will not ruin a perfectly good friendship with icky, messy feelings. However, though Sherlock opens his mouth, the words do not, or cannot, reach his lips. After a moment, he closes his mouth and hangs his head, eyes on his lap.

"That's a yes, then," John says. His voice is quiet. "Thank you for not lying to me."

Sherlock cannot make out the emotions in John's voice, but he can imagine what they must be. Discomfort. Disgust. John is kind, and good, and won't openly confess to feeling this way, but this will ruin them all the same. John won't consciously decide to stop being Sherlock's friend because Sherlock desires more, but he will pull away unconsciously. Perhaps he'll even feel guilty for not feeling the same way. Texts will become more infrequent, conversations will become more impersonal. Maybe John will be excessively wary of hurting Sherlock's feelings, and will stop saying some of the things they would talk about now. They will drift apart. This will end.

Sherlock regrets ever bringing up anything even remotely related to sentiment. He regrets ever giving any indication that he might feel this way. He wonders how he thought he could get away with this at all. John can be so marvellously unobservant at times, but of course he would be observant about the one thing that matters.

"What other movies did you bring?" Sherlock asks, in a feeble attempt to change the subject. He cannot even look at John as he says it; instead, he focusses on the pile of DVDs that are sitting by the television. He goes to get to his feet, but John stops him with a hand on his wrist, and Sherlock curses his body for having a physiological response to such a simple, innocent touch.

"Sherlock," John says, his voice soft and gentle but firm at the same time. "Sit. And just... hear me out, okay?"

Sherlock hesitates, and then he sits. He still doesn't meet John's eyes. He doesn't want to see the discomfort on his face.

"I wasn't sure," John says after a pause, quietly. "I couldn't get what you said out of my head when we were texting – about the formal. You're really hard to read sometimes, and it sounded like maybe you did actually have feelings for someone. And I wasn't sure that it was me, but I know you, and I know you're not really close to anyone else. You don't strike me as the sort of person who would have feelings for someone you weren't close to. And when I think about the way you treat me, compared to the way you treat everyone else – well, I couldn't know for sure, because you don't really have any other close friends and maybe the way that you treat me is just because we're friends, but sometimes it almost, almost seemed like you were flirting with me. Well, not flirting, exactly, because I can't imagine you flirting with anyone, but there was something. I thought there was something, anyway."

Sherlock cannot bring himself to speak. He cannot bring himself to shift or even to look up at John's face, let alone meet his eyes. He wishes the sofa would swallow him whole. He wishes he could go back in time and not open the door, or to go back further and not say anything while they were texting, or to go back further still and stop himself from ever falling this far.

After a moment, John says, "I stand by what I said when we were texting."

"That it's fine?" Sherlock says wryly. He cannot feel reassured by the words. Of course John would insist that it is fine. John is a good person, and John isn't going to judge Sherlock for liking boys. However, that doesn't mean that the fact that Sherlock likes John, specifically, won't mean that John starts to treat Sherlock differently. John says it's fine, but it's not, and Sherlock might lose the only friendship in his life that has ever been worth anything to him.

"Yes," John says, "but also that you could have anyone you wanted."

Sherlock wants to scoff, at first, because that's nonsense, until his mind catches up and he actually understands what that sentence means. From anyone else, it's nonsense. From the only person who Sherlock has ever felt this way for, it's something else entirely. His mind screeches to a halt, and finally, he draws his gaze away from his knees to look at John, staring at him with what he knows must be an awestruck expression on his face.

John is looking back at him with an expression on his face that is both familiar and strange. On the one hand, it's an expression he's seen on John's face before, but on the other hand, it's something he cannot immediately put a name to. There's something soft about the look, about the smile that plays on the corners of John's lips and the almost warm look in his eyes.

"There you are," John says. "Knew you'd get there eventually."

And it clicks in Sherlock's mind, and he is able to put a name to the look: it's fond.

Sherlock opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak even though he doesn't have the faintest idea of what he is going to say. John is the only person who has ever managed to do this to him – actually render him speechless. Sherlock always, always gets the last word, except when John is around, and when John does something like this.

His head feels like it's spinning. In his mind, he's having a conversation with John – albeit a disjointed one. You never gave any indication. I thought you were not interested in that way. Are you interested in that way? You are, aren't you? I'm not reading this wrong; that is indeed what you meant. I'm flattered. No, that's not right, not flattered – well, yes, flattered, but also... What does this mean? What does this mean for us, for the state of our relationship? Is this a good idea? Are you sure you want this? Whatever this is? John.

"I haven't broken you, have I?" John says after a moment, and Sherlock realises that he hasn't said a single word of this out loud.

He closes his mouth, blinks, and then forces himself to restart. "So, in fact," he says slowly after a pause, "I'm your – that is to say, you like me? Specifically in the... not-friend sort of way?"

It sounds unbelievably childish coming from his own lips. It's probably one of the least intelligent things he has ever said in his life, and yet he feels the need to say it all the same.

John just smiles. "Yeah," he says. "That's exactly what I'm trying to say."

A part of Sherlock feels like this might be a dream. A part of him feels like he's definitely not hearing anything correctly. Maybe this is all in his Mind Palace. Maybe this is all a fantasy of what he would want to happen.

But, that being said, Sherlock does not think that he would even fantasise of something like this without being entirely certain that it is something that will never come to light.

John shifts, and then he reaches out and covers Sherlock's hand with his own. Immediately, all of Sherlock's attention is diverted to the touch. It's innocent, gentle. It's hardly anything new – John has touched his wrist before to get his attention – but this feels like something else entirely. It shouldn't be right for such an innocent touch to feel so intimate.

"Can I kiss you?" John asks quietly, and the words alone are enough to make Sherlock's breath catch in his throat. He doesn't trust his voice, so instead, he nods his head, and then John leans forward and kisses him.

For the first time in his life, Sherlock's mind goes completely and utterly blank. It's as though every door and every window around his Mind Palace has been thrown open, letting in beautiful, bright, blinding light that drowns out everything else. The kiss is gentle, and yet it leaves Sherlock's head spinning.

It only lasts for a couple of seconds, and then John is pulling away, and Sherlock realises that in those couple of seconds he had not responded. He had frozen at the contact, cataloguing the sensations but not returning it. He corrects that immediately by leaning forward and capturing John's lips again before John moves too far away, and this kiss is far better, because now Sherlock is actively participating. He doesn't know what he's doing, and the kiss is awkward and clumsy, and also the best thing Sherlock has ever felt in his life.

The kiss breaks when John's lips pull upwards into a smile against Sherlock's own, and then John lets out an almost giddy-sounding giggle that brings a smile to Sherlock's own lips. It's quite possibly the best sound that he has ever heard in his life.

They pull away, but not far. They're close enough for Sherlock to feel John's breath against his skin. It's almost too close for Sherlock to be able to see John clearly, but he can see the bright smile on John's face and the bright look in his eyes. John's palm is on Sherlock's cheek, cupping his jaw (Sherlock has no recollection of when it got there) and he gently strokes his thumb over Sherlock's cheekbone.

"For the cleverest person I know, you can be remarkably oblivious at times," John says, which makes Sherlock drop his gaze a little in embarrassment.

"You're an open book one moment and a complex puzzle the next," Sherlock says. "I never realised."

"Well," John says, "I'm glad that I'm capable of surprising even the great Sherlock Holmes."

"You'd be the only one who could," Sherlock says, and then he kisses away the next words that reach John's lips.