Secretly I Think You Knew

Apology of the Ages

Sherlock POV: Sherlock sat in his seat, scrolling through some article on science; he didn't even know what it was. It was the first thing that had popped up when he googles articles hastily. He had been reading over their paper since the due date was quickly approaching, but when he saw John enter he decided that he would be forced to discuss it with that annoying boy and therefore just pulled up an article on science. Some sort of article on cloning, who even cared, somehow they'll fail with their experiments, scientists always propose the stupidest things but they never actually accomplish anything, mostly the science community was just trying to see who can fail with the greatest intentions. But as soon as John walked away, Sherlock felt kind of bad, a feeling that should be unknown to him. He hated talking to him of course, and he hated his very presence, but for some reason Sherlock hated to see him walk off like that, obviously he felt betrayed, embarrassed, he might think badly of Sherlock now, he might think that Sherlock was a mean person! Shush, no, who even cared? John's opinion of him didn't matter, who cared what that soccer playing idiot thought about him? It was good for Sherlock to lay down the law; it was good for him to stand up for his solitude. Sherlock was a sociopath, a person hating, connection avoiding loner, he had told that to John the first day he met him, why did John refuse to accept the fact that this relationship, whatever there might be, would not develop into anything? The two of them were never going to be friends, they were never going to be more than friends, as soon as this paper was over Sherlock would go back to being Sherlock and John would go back to being John, and they would forget everything they thought they knew about each other and just move on. Sherlock didn't need friends, and even if he did, John would be the last person he would pick. The class slowly started to fill up, all of these annoying popular kids moving in large packs, gossiping and yelling loudly about everything that happened over the last couple of days, between the gossip going around the school to the upcoming football games to who made the field hockey team. All such useless information, even an article on clones was more interesting than talking about who their latest crushes were going out with. When the teacher started to talk Sherlock closed his laptop, not in the mood to get yelled at. She was going on once more about To Kill a Mockingbird, about how they had to watch the movie and how they were going to have their vocabulary test this coming Friday. Sherlock dared a look over at John, who was keeping his eyes fixed determinedly at the board, as if he didn't want Sherlock to notice how hurt he really was. Then again, the more you avoid trying to do something, the more obvious it is that you want to do it. Therefore, since John was staring at the board, obviously not processing anything, it made it painfully obvious to Sherlock that John wanted to look over at him, maybe exchange a few awkward words. But who knows, what John could possibly want from Sherlock? Did he want to know more about the paper, was he legitimately curious about what went on in Sherlock's life, or did he want to befriend him as a sort of good deed. The worst and most probably reason John would possibly want to talk to Sherlock was if he wanted Sherlock to make a complete fool out of himself. Sherlock already knew that people talked about him behind his back, wondering about his solitude, why he didn't have any friends, probably commenting on his clothes and his car and his brother, all sorts of cruel stuff. But once again, that was all they knew, and that was all they had against him. Was it john's plan to pretend to be friends with him just to learn his secrets, just to spill his embarrassing stories throughout the school? Was this entire thing just a set up? Sherlock shuttered at the thought, but he refused to believe that, John was a good person. He may be annoying, but deep down he had a good heart and Sherlock had to believe that he legitimately wanted to be a friend. That class seemed to drag on, so finally when the bell rung, Sherlock was prepared to bolt, to run as fast as he could in order to avoid whatever annoyance he would be pestered with today. Instead, John seemed rather glum, slowly putting his things in his backpack and taking his dear old time. Sherlock sighed, slinging his backpack across his shoulders and deciding that he'd let it go, maybe John would bounce back to his usual annoying self. So he walked out of the classroom rather slowly, making it only too easy for John to come running down the hall and attack him with questions. But no one came, and as Sherlock did the lock on his locker he was hit with a wave of regret. Why did he yell at John so harshly, he was only trying to be a nice person? He sighed, grabbing his science book and heading off to class, wondering whether or not he would talk to John again. What if that sudden outburst had just ruined their entire relationship? What if John decided that Sherlock was a heartless jerk and never talked to him again? Well...that would be good. Of course. Sherlock didn't need John in his life; he was a pest, that was all, a pest. No, he did a good thing, he made john go away and ensured his social status remained at zero. Sherlock sighed a little bit, that little voice inside his head was starting to sound more and more like Mycroft. When he got to class he saw that one of John's little friends was in his class, Lestrade something, it was impossible to remember his first name. Something with a G, maybe. Sherlock slid silently into his seat, making sure not to glance back at Lestrade, but he could feel his eyes on him, as if he were as interested in Sherlock as John was. Oh, if that whole gang of soccer playing idiots tried to befriend him, they would have a bit of a problem now wouldn't they? Sherlock might be able to stand one annoying person, but four, no thank you, that was definitely way too many. Thankfully though, Greg didn't approach him, and thankfully Sherlock didn't have to say a single word in that class, keeping his head down and doing his worksheets feverishly so that he had time to read his book. Sherlock loved to read, but it was nearly impossible to read during school, all the teachers wanting to keep you busy, all the kids being so loud that it he couldn't concentrate, it was so distracting. Sherlock got most of his reading time done at home, when there was no one to bother him or ask him what he was reading or try to give him more worksheets to do because he looked bored. He most certainly wasn't bored, he was traveling to a world of pure imagination, transporting his mind and soul to a completely different world, one with dragons, or sea monsters, or catastrophic science experiments, it was always something new. Whatever it was though, it was definitely better than sitting in science class doing pointless worksheets on cell regeneration. So when Sherlock was finally done with his work he kicked back and propped a book open on his desk, trying his best to concentrate on the words but for some reason his mind just wouldn't go. There was something bothering him, and of course he didn't need his own intellect to figure out what it was. It was guilt, it felt like something was gnawing at his common sense, something was eating him up inside, demanding to be noticed. Every time he blinked he saw the disappointed face of John Watson, for some reason it seemed to affect him more than he thought anything could. This was a feeling that should be unknown to him, Sherlock had done things, things so much worse than simply talking rudely to a simpleton, and he hadn't felt guilty. Despair, maybe a hint, loss, regret, sure, but he never felt guilty. What he had done before, it wasn't his fault, he had placed the blame on his brother. But this time, this was all on him, he snapped, and he hurt John, and he somehow needed to make that better. Wow, this was crazy; Sherlock was actually going to be the one to approach John. How messed up was that? When the class was over Sherlock shut his book rather forcefully, storming out of the room like a man on a mission in order to catch John before he scurried off to lunch with all of his friends. The hallway was a mess of kids of all ages moving to and from their lockers, all trying their best to get to the lunch line before anyone else. Thankfully Sherlock spotted a golden head in the mix, at his locker talking to someone. To Sherlock's annoyance, however, it was Lestrade he was talking to, and that just meant more awkwardness. Sherlock couldn't approach John in front of his friends, he couldn't apologize with a witness, no, this wasn't going to do. Sherlock was just about to turn away when Lestrade caught his eye, muttering something to John who turned around almost immediately. Sherlock smiled doubtfully, now deciding that this was a very bad idea, John was probably furious, he definitely didn't want to talk to Sherlock now, he might even become violent, who knew?
"Hi Sherlock." John said without much emotion, smiling rather forcefully.
"Hi, John, um, could I possibly talk to you?" Sherlock asked, so nervous he could barely feel his legs. Lestrade was giving him a rather nasty look, as if John had told him all about what had happened during English. John shrugged, closing his locker and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"Ya, sure." He agreed.
"Alright mate, I'll meet you down at the cafeteria." Lestrade decided.
"Alright Greg, see you." John agreed. Ah, Greg, that was like the easiest name to remember, how didn't Sherlock remember that? John stood rather awkwardly at his locker and Sherlock stood even more awkwardly in the middle of the hall, forcing large packs of people to walk in twos in order to get around him. Of course some of the groups were too stubborn to do that to instead of going around they decided the quickest way was through. After Sherlock was elbowed a good four times and nearly shoved into the lockers, he decided that maybe it was best they move.
"Do you want to talk over there? It's a bit quieter." John suggested, nodding to a rather empty hallway. Sherlock went completely red at being talked to, for some reason the idea of going to an almost deserted place with John ignited all of these feelings in him, a big melting pot of emotions that he couldn't name. Mycroft would not approve of this at all, but Sherlock nodded nevertheless, leading the way across the hall and turning the corner to the deserted one.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" John asked, his hair slightly spiked up in the front. The problem with that was that it might be natural; it didn't seem like he put any product in his hair, he was just naturally gorgeous. I mean...masculine...or...something. Sherlock took a deep breath, honestly having no idea what to say. He's never done this before, and especially not in the presence of someone so...intimidating.
"I just, well, I wanted to apologize. And this is the first and last time I will ever apologize for anything, but I kind of feel bad for yelling at you back in English, and I regret it." Sherlock sighed. John's face lit up with a smile and immediately Sherlock groaned, there it was, that annoying grin again.
"Oh, brilliant! I didn't know what to think to be honest, I mean I kind of hoped you were just being kind of grumpy, but I'm happy you apologized." John decided.
"This doesn't mean we're friends." Sherlock added, making his face drop back into the usual scowl.
"Yes it does." John said with a teasing smile. "You cared about how I felt."
"No, I cared that you didn't hate me, there's a difference." Sherlock snapped defensively. Obviously this had been a bad idea for all different reasons.
"What's different about my feelings and my hating you? I think you felt bad, I think you secretly like me." John decided. Sherlock opened his mouth in shock, what an accusation!
"I most certainly did not! I don't like you. No." Sherlock insisted.
"Oh come one Sherlock, you went all this way just to apologize..." John sighed.
"I'm leaving, goodbye." Sherlock decided, turning and staring down the hallway once more.
"I accept your apology!" John called after him, as if that really mattered anymore. What an idiot. Sherlock disappeared into the crowd of people all headed to lunch, turning only once to make sure John wasn't following him, as he always seemed to want to. Sherlock told himself it was a good thing that John wasn't following him, but to be honest he was kind of disappointed. Not like he actually wanted to talk to John or anything, no, but it just felt good to be well, noticed. No one has ever really paid attention to his existence before. Sherlock went down to the cafeteria, where all of the kids were all eating lunch at their tables, talking about nothing, laughing at cruel jokes, taking selfies and unflattering pictures of people when they weren't looking. It was all rather horrible, but Sherlock didn't mind, he hated people, he hated everyone, might as well just let them go. Sherlock went and sat at his lonely table near the back, a table that no one dared sit at or take chairs from. For some reason it seemed the entire student body was scared of him which of course wasn't a bad thing, it was actually rather convenient, but Sherlock didn't know why. Sure, he was a little bit abnormal compared to the masses, maybe a little bit pale and old fashioned, but unless they were convinced he was a vampire he couldn't figure out what made them scared. Maybe it's because he had no friends, maybe they decided that someone who couldn't get a person to like them was a person that would end up as a mass murderer. Sherlock sighed, if only they knew. He started unpacking his lunch box when he saw John descending the ramp, casting a rather hopeful glance in Sherlock's direction before heading off to his lunch table. As soon as Sherlock saw his eyes look over, Sherlock dropped his gaze, hoping he was quick enough to make it appear like he was doing some very important sandwich eating to do. When he looked up again, just the smallest of glances, he saw that John was gone, over to his table with his friends. They were all talking and laughing like the rest of the idiots in this lunch room, thankfully James (at least, he thought his name was James) was the only one facing his direction, and he seemed like someone that would keep things quiet. So if he caught Sherlock looking over there he might take pity and not mention it to John. So Sherlock ate his lunch rather quietly, as he did every day, but for some reason this solitary lunch table seemed rather lonely, and he didn't know why. Sherlock had always been alone, for as long as he could remember he had never said a single word to any of his peers, why was it that now he felt rather sorry for himself? Why was he suddenly feeling all of these emotions, these emotions that he had tried so hard to bottle up in the past? Mycroft had molded him into a sociopath; Sherlock was and still is a sociopath, so why was he constantly struggling with these useless human feelings? Loneliness, regret, sorrow, love...why did Sherlock feel like he was falling in love all over again? Sherlock was quiet the rest of the day; thankfully he didn't have any run-ins with John or his little friends, although he knew a couple of them were in his next couple of classes. Thankfully they didn't approach him and he didn't say a word to them, and all was well. When school let out Sherlock waited at the doors for Mycroft to pull up in the car, leaning against the brick wall with his backpack and staring idly at the drive way. He noticed that all of the other students kept to the other side, which Mycroft would be very happy to see. If he was under the impression Sherlock was actually getting within a ten foot radius with other people there might be consequences. Finally the black car pulled up, long after the busses had left, and Sherlock walked up, throwing his things in the back seat and climbing into the passenger seat. Mycroft didn't say anything as he pulled away, not even waiting for Sherlock to close his door before he stepped on the gas pedal.