And Together We Fell (prev. "Teenlock") - An AU Sherlock/Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter 21

YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

I AM SO SORRY FOR THE APPALLING LATENESS

I HAVE A PROPOSITION FOR YOU AT THE END

IT'S CRAZY

BUT I MIGHT BE ABLE TO MAKE IT WORK

Okay, here is your appallingly late only-one-not-two chapter :(

JOHN'S P.O.V

Tap.

Tap. Tap.

Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Ta-

"Quit it, John!" Mike's hand quickly shoved across mine, ceasing my pencil to tap on the table. I muttered an apology, and raked my other hand through my hair. "John? You there?" I was barely listening, my mind occupied and my hand once again unconsciously tapping on the table with the pencil. "Mate, what's up?"

"Dunno, Mike. Just thinking. Sorry."

"Right... okay. Let's get this thing over and done with, I'm already sick of it." Mike and I were partnered together on a French speaking assignment, where we were to do something along the lines of a script between a shop owner and customer. Or something like that. We were in French once again, and everyone was huddled in small groups around tables, with the teacher prowling around the edges, snapping at any fault in the French language.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, let's get this finished for lunch. Don't exactly want to finish this during lunch." I stretched my hand and cricked my neck, massaging the slightly taut muscles with inked-smudged fingers. "Alright."

A second passed.

"...John?"

I looked up at Mike. "What?"

"You're starting, mate. I've been waiting for 10 seconds... you sure you're okay?" His eyes creased slightly with worry, and I automatically and instinctively tried to erase that worry away.

"Yeah, Mike, I'm grand. Just... thinking. About things. Doesn't matter," I cut off shortly, before I spilled my provoking and intriguing thoughts out loud, "alright. Bonjour."

"Ah, bonjour monsieur!" Mike's voice came out as forced French, but he was obviously trying, and definitely more so than me, so I didn't bother to correct him.

"Uh... comment tu t'appelle?"

"...Wrong one mate. That's 'what're you called?'. You want; 'how are you?'" he said loudly, oblivious to the oncoming danger that was Madame Abel. I cleared my throat, sat up, and put a bit more effort in.

"Alright... uh... comment allez-vous?"

"Tres bien, merci. Et vous?"

"Oui, je--"

"Ah, garcons, let's hear how you're getting on?" Madame Abel's sharp voice cut through my fumbled French, and I instinctively covered the hastily scribbled and completely messy script with my book and hand.

"Uh... okay... um... Bonjour." I looked briefly over at Madame Abel, who was seeming staring intently at me, but I could see that her attention was attracted to a group of rowdy boys behind her.

"Ah, bonjour monsieur!"

"Comment tu-- allez-vous?"