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“Hm, sorry, what did you say?” John snapped out of the trance he’d been in for the most part of the last minute.
The cause for said trance was currently snapping his fingers in front of John’s face, trying to get his attention. Slender hands. Pale skin. Dark, curly hair. High cheekbones. Perfectly tailored clothes clinging to the tall, slim body. Eyes you could easily spend hours upon hours staring into without ever being able to define their exact colour. Beautiful, plush lips that were just begging to be kissed.
“For god’s sake John! Concentrate!” The deep voice brought him back to reality.
“Yes, sorry Sherlock. What can I do?” Sherlock only rolled his eyes. John knew how much he hated repeating himself. “I asked you to hand me that flask”
John looked in the direction Sherlock was pointing and started chuckling.
“But it’s right there. You would’ve only needed to extend your arm a bit.”
Still smiling he picked up the flask Sherlock pointed at and gave it to him. When Sherlock took it, their hands brushed lightly and the butterflies in John’s stomach immediately started fluttering. A faint blush crept up his cheeks.
Dammit, why was he so affected by this stunning human being that was his lab partner?
John continued watching Sherlock for the rest of the lesson like the lovesick sheep that he was. Occasionally he heard him muttering something like “mentally deranged idiot” when Anderson dropped a test tube filled with sodium hydroxide on the floor or “it’s obvious, how can you not understand it?” when Mike enquired him about a specific formula he didn’t quite get. And then there were the usual complaints about the class being “pointless” or “boring”. John was used to it. It was his job to ensure Sherlock didn’t insult everyone around them.
But he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved being in this class and teaming up with Sherlock. Seeing him in his element, working his magic with the chemicals, writing down their precise results in his sloppy handwriting. John was absolutely mesmerised.
Too quickly the bell chimed, marking the end of the lesson. He folded his lab coat neatly, trying to spend as much time as possible in Sherlock’s presence.
“Your work today was really amazing. Just… wanted to tell you.” Sherlock looked up, seeming startled at the compliment. All of the self-confidence from earlier seemed to have vanished and he was back to being the silent, reserved person he usually came across as. It was only in chemistry class that his whole behaviour shifted, transforming him into a whirlwind like genius. The change was fascinating for John to witness and it just served to intrigue him even more.
“Thank you… It was nothing, really,” Sherlock answered, peering down at John through his thick lashes. He even flashed him a small smile which must’ve been the most beautiful thing John had seen all week.
“Are you coming?” sounded a voice from the door. John turned around only to find Greg smirking at him.
“Yeah just a sec!” he replied. “Bye, Sherlock!” With a warm smile at Sherlock he joined his rugby mate at the door to get lunch.
“You are so screwed, honestly John,” Mike laughed, as he accompanied the two on their way to the cafeteria.
“It’s actually kind of painful to watch you pine over Sherlock. Just ask him out or declare your feelings or whatever… Something!” Greg added.
“I’m sure he doesn’t want anything from me. I really don’t want to screw up our whole friendship,” John tried to defend himself. But if he was being honest with himself, what they said was completely true. He had had a crush on Sherlock for months now and it had only gotten worse over time.
But he could never see anything in you. He’s this amazing, drop dead gorgeous genius and you’re just John Watson. An average looking guy who plays rugby. Nothing to match Sherlock.
“What you need is a good distraction. Someone else to take your mind off that science kid,” Mike suggested, a mischievous smile playing around his lips.
“Thanks for the effort Mike, but no. I really don’t need anyone right now”
“Well, you’re saying that now,” Mike grinned. “Shut up Mike,” Greg interrupted him and the two seemed to have a silent conversation. John was really confused. Something was going on.
The second John entered the school building the next day he knew exactly what “something” was. He stopped dead in his tracks. Dozens of posters with his face on them were plastered in the entrance hall alone. He’s bi and ready to try, the text right above the black and white photograph of him stated. The picture itself was decorated with bi pride flags and blue, purple and pink hearts. Beneath the photo you could tear off pieces with John’s number and name.
But the real centre of the poster was a photo with the headline Did you write this??! and six red arrows pointing towards it. It was clearly a picture of The Wall.
The Wall was in a place tucked away between the restrooms and janitor’s closet. Over the years it had been filled with all kinds of anonymous confessions and doodles. Even the efforts of the administration to paint over the writing had proven to be pointless as the students always took over again, covering it with their scribbles.
The picture showed someone’s writing that stated “I’m gay and have a hopeless crush on the rugby captain”.
John was stunned. Dumbfounded. Angry.
He could feel the students in his close proximity whispering and looking at him. Gritting his teeth, John set off to find Mike and Greg. As he pushed his way through the mass off students he accidentally bumped into a tall figure in the hallway. When he tilted his head up he immediately recognized the person in front of him.
“God, I’m so sorry!” he blurted out. But instead of responding to him, Sherlock’s eyes were widening in shock and he stayed completely still. John was used to Sherlock not talking a lot but outright ignoring him seemed kind of weird and abnormal, even for him. But John had more important things to do now than worry about Sherlock behaving weirdly.
“I’ll see you in class Sherlock. I really have to go and kill Mike and Greg now.” And with that, he took off.
It didn’t take long to find the rugby crew. They were all sitting around Mike, Greg and Bill on the school yard, seeming to enjoy themselves immensely.
“What the fuck, Mike?” John shouted at them. Immediately their laughter subsided. Most of them quickly fled the scene upon seeing their captain’s rage leaving only Mike, Greg and Bill.
“All of you, what the hell did you do?” He was furious. “It’s not like I need the whole fucking school to know about my sexuality. Neither does the whole school need to know about that guy’s message.”
“Look mate,” Greg began. “No, don’t even start!” John interrupted him. “I don’t need anyone else. I’m not interested in anyone else.”
Slowly, he started to calm down, his chest still heaving with breaths. The three culprits were still standing in front of him, looking uncomfortable and a bit embarrassed. As they should.
“Take those posters down. Immediately.”
“Sorry, cap. We only wanted to help,” Mike mumbled. “We’ll take them down.”
“Good,” John sighed, feeling relieved and exhausted all of a sudden. “I need to get to class.” And with that, John turned and walked back into the school building, leaving three very guilty looking rugby players behind.
The entire day was complete torture. Everyone in the school was looking at him. He could feel the whispers behind his back. Greg continued to apologise profusely, but John just waved it off. The harm was already done. Although he really did want to find his secret admirer, even if it was just for the sake of apologising to him for the behaviour of his idiotic friends.
At least the posters saved him from the struggle of coming out to everyone, that job had been done for him. And John began to feel the consequences. Over the following days he received more flirtatious looks from guys than he ever had from girls and he really didn’t know how to feel about that. The temptation to flirt back was definitely there but every time John thought about flashing those boys a mischievous smile, images of Sherlock flashed before his eyes and he couldn’t help comparing him to them. No one, John discovered, seemed to have the same effect on him that Sherlock had.
When it was finally Tuesday, John was almost giddy to see Sherlock again. After the struggles of the past week he was looking forward to be in Sherlock’s presence again, calming himself by drinking in every feature of the beautiful boy.
When he entered the room, every troubling thought of the last days vanished and there was only one thing he could think about. Sherlock. As soon as he saw the dark brown curls he couldn’t help the massive smile that broke out on his face. He made his way over to Sherlock, still smiling softly.
“Hey Sherlock” The boy in question seemed startled at the greeting. Immediately his whole body stiffened. He looked up at John with an undiscernible gaze, staring at him.
“Hello John,” he finally let out, turning back to the anatomy textbook he was reading.
John slid into the seat next to Sherlock, confused as to why he was met with unusual coldness and rejection. And his behaviour didn’t change a lot. Throughout the lesson Sherlock seemed stiff and unmoving beside him, eyes fixed on the blackboard. What worried John the most was the distinct lack of snarky comments towards the teacher, not correcting him at all.
He had been looking forward to taking a break from all the weirdness of the week. Even if Bill, Greg and Mike had actually taken down all the posters it had apparently not been fast enough to prevent seemingly every gay or bi male person in the school from getting his phone number. Throughout the whole week he had received messages from at least ten different people declaring their love to him. Combining that with all of the flirtation directed at him, John just wanted to hide somewhere. Preferably somewhere dark and quiet. Busying himself with watching Sherlock was even better.
But apparently that was not going to happen today. Even the other students seemed to notice that something was wrong with Sherlock. John noticed that, as time passed, more and more confused glances were being thrown in their direction.
When the bell rang Sherlock immediately gathered all his folders and stood up. Just before he could storm out of the room, however, John grabbed his sleeve. Sherlock stilled.
“Is anything wrong?”
“Of course not, why would there be,” came the snarky reply. But John could hear Sherlock’s voice cracking slightly towards the end of the sentence.
“You just didn’t quite seem to be yourself today. Look, if there is anything at all… don’t hesitate to talk to me. If you need someone who listens to you.”
Sherlock looked startled at John’s offer, taking his time to answer and blinking rapidly. John tightened the grip on his sleeve, cursing himself for being so straight forward.
“Sherlock? It’s getting a bit scary now.”
He seemed to snap out of his thoughts and cleared his throat. Then his gaze lowered to his arm where John’s hand was still clinging to the fabric of Sherlock’s button-down. Immediately John released it, a blush forming on his cheeks.
“I appreciate the offer. But I can assure you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me,” Sherlock stated, appearing to have regained his confidence again.
“Well, if you say so… Then I guess I’ll see you next week?” At this point John had gotten pretty nervous. He didn’t dare to meet Sherlock’s eyes, suddenly having developed a tremendous interest in his shoe laces.
“Yes John, until next week.”
As usual, Greg was waiting for him at the door. John expected him to go on about John’s crush and maybe tease him about it but he was not prepared for the speech he got from Greg.
“You’re turning down person after person without actually explaining why. It’s really not fair. You have people throwing themselves at you and you’re not doing anything about it whatsoever. Just tell Sherlock. Tell him or go out with one of the guys that are flirting with, seriously mate,” Greg told him. “There,” he added, letting out a deep breath. “That’s all the serious man to man talk I can muster up today.”
John gave him a half-hearted smile, still very confused by the past chemistry lesson. When he opened his mouth to defend himself, he was interrupted. “Don’t say anything. Just… think about it, alright?” Greg told him, flashing him a tight-lipped smile.
Greg did have a point. He couldn’t just keep rejecting every person who flirted with him. But telling Sherlock simply wasn’t an option either. Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind.
“Thanks Greg, really. I appreciate it. I think I’ll spend the break by myself, there’s something I need to do.”
“Umm… Alright then. I guess I’ll see you later?” Greg sounded very confused.
John not spending the break with his friends was a very rare occurrence so the confusion was understandable. The four of them had been inseparable for years, always doing everything together. So if one of them deliberately chose not to spend the break with the others something important had to be going on.
But John only flashed his best friend a smile and took off in the direction of the restrooms. He confidently strode along the hallways, turning now and then until he stood in front of The Wall.
It had been a while since his last visit and the sheer mass of doodles, paintings, scribbles and scrawls never ceased to astound him. Every time he returned he found something new, that was part of The Wall’s charm. There was everything ranging from 5 second doodles to very impressive artwork, from insults to love confessions and of course the occasional love heart with letters like M+G inside. John took it all in, unbelievably glad no one else had decided to pay The Wall a visit during their lunch break.
“Just tell Sherlock” Greg had said. He was going to do it. In the only way he dared to.
He looked around to find exactly what he was searching for. There always was a sharpie lying around at The Wall as an unwritten rule. But as John crouched down something else caught his eye. A tiny scrawl, almost illegible. But by now he knew the writing by heart after having stared at one of the posters he had taken down for what had felt like hours.
I’m gay and have a hopeless crush on the rugby captain. He hadn’t even thought about finding the text when he made the decision to come here. But there it was. Squeezed in between all of the other scribbles. Seeing it in real life made the writing look a bit different and suddenly a chill went down John’s spine. Seeing it from this perspective almost made the writing look a lot like… Sherlock’s.
Don’t get your hopes up, Watson. It could literally be anyone’s confession.
John had spent a lot of time looking at Sherlock’s writing as he always wrote down their results himself because apparently he didn’t deem John to be capable of doing so without messing everything up.
But even if it did look a lot like Sherlock’s, he couldn’t be sure. It was crammed and tiny. Not enough to go on.
John hadn’t come here to find more about his secret admirer. He had come to make a confession like so many before him. So he picked up the sharpie, looked for a spot that was still relatively free from any drawings, took a deep breath and started writing.
The attention from students seemed to die down over the course of the week but John still got one or the other flirty look thrown in his direction. He had given up on trying to find his secret admirer, there were simply too many people messaging him, claiming to be “the one”. Some of them were just trolling him. John had been careful to avoid being too specific about his confession, he really didn’t need another poster incident.
He knew that the guys meant well but he also was unbelievably glad that the whole thing seemed to be over.
When it was finally Tuesday again John was feeling a weird mixture of nervous, excited and apprehensive about facing Sherlock again. He rarely saw him outside of chemistry class and if he did they only shared fleeting glances, acknowledging each other.
But what he found upon entering the classroom was definitely not what he had expected. Instead of the coldness from last time Sherlock immediately fixed his eyes on John when he entered the room, watching him walk over to their desk.
A small, tentative smile crept Sherlock’s face as he kept his gaze focused on John.
“Hello John.”
Now, that really confused him. Normally Sherlock was already immersed in some kind of formulas and chemicals, too busy to even notice his arrival. And compared to how he behaved last week this was even stranger.
A very nice kind of strange though.
“Hey Sherlock, are you feeling better?” he decided to ask.
“I never felt unwell in the first place John, don’t be stupid.”
Ah, there we go. Thankfully it appeared Sherlock hadn’t lost any of his usual snarky attitude.
“Of course you weren’t,” John answered, smiling to himself.
At that moment, the bell chimed, indicating the start of the lesson. John was happy when he heard they were going to conduct some titration experiments, looking forward to being able to spend more time doing something with Sherlock instead of just sitting beside him.
As usual Sherlock was the one doing most of the work, measuring the precise quantities of the chemicals to pour into the burette and reading their results. However, after the indicator changed its colour for the first time he turned to John.
“John, please write down our results.”
Now that was unexpected.
“Why?” John inquired, bewildered. He was used to Sherlock insisting on writing everything down.
“Just do it.” He paused. “Please”
Still quite confused, John took the pen and wrote down the exact quantity of hydrochloric acid left in the burette.
Throughout the lesson Sherlock kept insisting on not writing the results down himself. Instead, he looked at what John had written down, gave a curt nod and filled the burette again.
They worked mostly in silence, as they usually did. Most of their conversation was limited to Sherlock telling John the results or asking him to hand him a measuring cup. The two complemented one another unbelievably well, working efficiently and without needing many words. From afar it might have even looked like a synchronized kind of dance the two were performing and no one dared to disturb them, not even Greg or Sally.
Now and again their arms brushed due to having to stand quite close together and every time it happened, warmth was spreading throughout John’s whole body.
When suddenly the bell chimed, John was suddenly pulled out of the cocoon he and Sherlock had wrapped themselves up in.
He lifted his eyes to Sherlock’s face, taking in the beauty he saw. When his gaze met Sherlock’s, a tentative smile crept on his face which was instantly reciprocated.
The butterflies in John’s stomach seemed to be having a party, fluttering wildly and uncontrollably upon seeing Sherlock’s features form the genuine smile.
He turned his head, trying to escape the tension that had started to form and bid Sherlock goodbye.
Before he joined Greg at the door he turned around only to catch Sherlock looking in his direction, the soft smile still set on his face.
The rest of the school day passed in a kind of blur and John grinning like a lunatic throughout the most part.
He was walking to the bus stop with Mike and Greg when suddenly someone gripped his arm. Upon turning around he found himself under the scrutinising glance of pale, green-blue eyes. Immediately he could feel his heartbeat pick up. Instantly he was reminded of the small moment they shared after chemistry class that day.
“Sherlock?” John breathed out.
But the boy in question only tugged on the sleeve of John’s sweater, motioning for him to follow. Sherlock had never really talked to John outside of chemistry lessons so having him turn up and wanting him to follow was incredibly strange.
“Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?”
The gentle tugging had turned into a kind of pulling and John felt himself practically being dragged away. He flashed Mike and Greg a confused glance, but the two of them only snickered at him. Idiots. John found pretty quickly that he didn’t actually mind being dragged around by Sherlock. He could feel the warmth of the slender hand that was still gripping the fabric of his sweater tightly.
When Sherlock finally released the sleeve, they were at the side of the school building, standing on an overgrown meadow. An awkward silence stretched between the two. Deciding he would never discover what Sherlock actually wanted unless he asked, John drew in a shaky breath, trying to look calm and collected.
“Would you care to tell me what this is all about?”
Suddenly Sherlock’s whole demeanour shifted. The confident posture vanished. He started fidgeting, not seeming to know what to do with his hands or where to look. John found it to be absolutely adorable. He observed him closely, still trying to figure out what exactly had gotten into Sherlock.
“John,” he finally breathed out.
“Yes, Sherlock?” John’s voice was quiet, tentative as if he were trying not to scare Sherlock away.
“Did you...” Sherlock slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen once or twice before he turned it for John to see. “Did you write this?”
That was definitely not what John was expecting. The phone showed a photo of The Wall. More precisely, John’s writing on The Wall. I’m bi and have a hopeless crush on my lab partner. In that moment John wished nothing more than for the earth to open and swallow him. How could I have been that stupid? Of course he’d know the note was from me. Of course he’d know I meant him. Great job Watson, you have successfully managed to ruin any chances you had of maintaining a friendship with him.
He slowly lifted his eyes to stare into Sherlock’s, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing together.
“Um… yes… I did write… um… that,” he finally managed to get out. Christ, now he’s going to think you’re a mentally deranged idiot who can’t even speak properly.
“Look – I’m sorry I’ve just ruined every chance at our friendship. Maybe.. maybe we can just forget about it? Move on from it? Pretend I didn’t write that?” And now he was rambling. Great.
“I can’t.” John’s heart dropped at that statement, his face fell. Sherlock’s beautiful, pale eyes were still fixed on his, staring at him determinedly.
John tried to collect himself again.
“Well then… Maybe I can switch with Greg? Then you wouldn’t have to work with me anymore and he really is a great guy. I could partner up with Jim instead. I mean, he’s obviously not as brilliant as you are but I-“
“John,” Sherlock cut off his rambling. “I can’t. And… I don’t want to.”
John’s eyes widened in surprise. What was that supposed to mean?
“Of course you could also work with Jim. I just thought you’d get along better with Greg. But I know that everyone is stupid compared to you. Greg wants to be a DI, did you know that? Maybe you could talk all about the crime stuff you sometimes tell me about. But Jim’s great, too. At least I think-”
“John, shut up.” During the ramble, Sherlock’s mouth had formed into a soft smile that reached his eyes. With a small chuckle Sherlock leaned down and laid a hand on his cheek. That small touch sent shivers and tingles throughout his whole body and John stilled completely.
He couldn’t believe this was really happening.
“Sherlock” His voice sounded kind of hoarse and strange, even to himself. And almost as if there was an invisible rope pulling them towards each other, John tilted his head up and pressed his lips on Sherlock’s. The kiss was soft and warm and simply perfect. The two bodies completely melted against one another. Sherlock’s mouth moved against his in a way that nearly drove John insane and when he coaxed Sherlock’s lips open with his tongue and finally got to taste him, he wished this moment would never end.
Unexpectedly, Sherlock pulled back, still resting their foreheads together.
“I wrote the other note,” he said quietly.
“Mmm…what?” John mumbled, his brain still muddled with the best kiss he’d ever had.
“The secret admirer note, John. I wrote it. Do keep up,” Sherlock said impatiently. John couldn’t help but smile fondly at him upon seeing the usual snarky attitude return. When he realised what Sherlock had actually just said, his smile grew impossibly wider.
“Thank god for that wall,” he mumbled, burying his head in Sherlock’s shoulder.