Secretly I Think You Knew

Greg's Got to Chill

    John stalled a little bit by his locker; as much as he would love to have sat in the English room with Sherlock again he wasn't overly sure he would be welcome. Of course, he wouldn't be welcome even on Sherlock's best day, but he didn't want the boy to react aggressively or even violently. Even though John was probably the only one in the entire school that Sherlock didn't despise with a loathing passion, Greg was right, he was rather creepy. John really didn't want to get on his bad side because he feared bad things might happen. So after a while John decided he'd just go, maybe ask Sherlock how his night had been and what not, so he said goodbye to Greg (who was making kissy faces, much to John's dislike) and headed off to English. When he got there the door was closed, the teacher obviously running a bit late today, and saw the familiar tall, lean boy leaning against the wall on the other side.
"Hello Sherlock." John said with a smile. Sherlock looked rather fearful, nearly jumping back when he saw John standing at the door way.
"Hello John." he muttered, relaxing ever so slightly but leaning away from John, as if he dint want to be in such close quarters with him.
"Are you alright? You look scared." John pointed out.
"I'm not scared, are you suggesting I'm afraid of you?" Sherlock asked with a small, nervous laugh. That wasn't very convincing, but John just smiled, shaking his head.
"I'm pretty sure I should be the one afraid." He decided.
"Too right you are." Sherlock agreed, although he looked a little bit hurt. John sighed, leaning against the opposite side of the door and staring at Sherlock shamelessly. The boy was trying to focus on his binder, poking at the paper around in it and still looking quite scared, as if John was about to lash out or something. His curls were dangling messily over his pale forehead, obviously he had tried to control them with a brush in the morning but his head movements were messing them all up, not that John was complaining. It was rather...attractive...if John had been a girl and had been looking for a sociopathic jerk boyfriend. Which he wasn't. Sherlock's long legs were bent in a rather odd way to keep him leaning against the wall, but for someone who didn't exercise he was naturally skinny, his black slacks getting a little bit baggy in some areas of his leg.
"You're staring at me." Sherlock muttered, his eyes still on his binder.
"Yes I am." John agreed. Sherlock dared to look up, his kaleidoscope eyes squinted in confusion.
"Why?" he asked. John just shrugged, repositioning his backpack on his back but not taking his eye of Sherlock opposite him.
"You're an interesting person to look at; I've never really gotten the opportunity until now." John shrugged. Sherlock looked rather disgusted but John could swear he saw a sort of pink blush materialize around his cheekbones.
"That's very creepy Mr. Watson; I would suggest you avoid it in the future." Sherlock insisted.
"Mr. Watson." John said in a bad impression of Sherlock's deep voice.
"What's wrong with that?" Sherlock snapped.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, we're not even adults yet, we can call each other by our first names." John decided.
"Alright John, I'm sorry." Sherlock groaned.
"You said that you weren't going to apologize to me ever again." John pointed out with a sort of teasing smile. Sherlock groaned loudly, but John was saved by the teacher flying in to unlock the door.
"Not fighting I hope?" she asked nervously.
"Us, no, no way. We're best friends." Sherlock sighed sarcastically.
"That's good, but somehow I doubt that." she decided, pulling the door open and letting them walk into the classroom together. A couple more of their peers trickled into the room as well, going over to their seats without the slightest hello to either Sherlock or John. Not that it really mattered, John didn't want to say hello to them either so they were even. Sherlock went to sit at his desk, propping open a book, and John decided that this time he better not intrude. However it seems like Sherlock was more interested in the classroom than the book, every so often he would pick up his head and look around as if expecting something to happen. Then he would sweep his head towards the windows, pretending to look out them and swivel his head back around so that he could catch the smallest of glances at John before going immediately back to his book, blushing furiously as if he had just gone on mission impossible or something. John just smiled to himself, knowing that for his own odd reasons Sherlock wanted to look at John, however guilty it made him feel. Maybe this sociopath was developing feelings. But no, John couldn't hope for that, of course he could never actually expect Sherlock to like him and even if Sherlock did like him there were no feelings returned. Not only was John straight, but he wasn't, well, gay. That was a weak defense, but it was the best he's got. Sherlock was odd yet strangely likable, but he wasn't boyfriend material. That class sort of dragged on, and instead of talking about the book or working on their papers, the teacher decided just to show them the movie instead, deciding that it would be good for them to see the film industry's reproduction of such a timeless classic. She said they could move wherever they wanted to, and since Sherlock was sitting next to one of the most popular girls in the school, all the kids immediately flocked to where he sat. John watched as Sherlock edged uncomfortably away as one of the girls sat on his desk, looking over at John for help. John just laughed, beckoning Sherlock over to sit next to him where some football player had previously sat. Sherlock groaned, but a couple of guys came over and all the girls started giggling widely so he decided to just run for it, scampering out of his seat and going over to the seat next to John.
"Joining me?" John asked with an accusing smile.
"What choice did I have?" Sherlock asked with a shutter, seeing his seat get completely overrun by popular kids.
"Well, I'm happy you consider me a safe enough escape route." John said with a smile. He got up out of his chair and sat on the desk, patting the desk next to him for Sherlock to sit as well.
"Oh no, I don't want to get in trouble." Sherlock muttered.
"You won't get in trouble, everyone does it, she doesn't care." John insisted, nodding to the teacher who was still struggling with the DVD player. Sherlock took a great big sigh, as if he was risking everything, but went and sat up on the desk next to John, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"See, simple." John insisted. Sherlock groaned, kicking his feet against the desk like a child. He was sitting very close; John could almost smell his cologne, the musty smell of his clothes, the shampoo he had used the previous night. He could hear Sherlock's quick little breaths, he could feel every small shift he made, he could almost feel the heat coming off of his skin...alright, creepy. Normal people don't notice these things about perfectly platonic acquaintances, what in the world was going on in John's head? Finally the movie started, something for John to distract himself with, trying to focus on the childish antics of Jem and Scout instead of the perfectly reachable Sherlock Holmes beside him. John could only lean a tiny bit, pretending to see the screen a little bit better, and brush up against Sherlock's shoulder. Except Sherlock didn't like anyone touching him, so that might not work out for everyone. He could only assume Sherlock was having the same moral dilemma, trying to decide whether or not it would be worth it to take a little bit more notice to the boy sitting next to him. Nothing more eventful happened that class, they just sat very stiffly next to each other until the bell rang, and then they both scurried as quickly as they could out of the classroom, as if they stayed just a second too long they would have to stay for the next class. John sighed, watching as Sherlock's long strides quickly left him in the dust, wondering when he would see him again. So John meandered back to his locker where Greg was waiting for him, having a mindless conversation with some girl who had the locker next to John's.
"Oh come on Greg, don't torture the poor girl." John insisted.
"I'll see you later." She said with a rather flirtatious wave, wandering off to her next class.
"I think she likes me." Greg decided proudly.
"I think she's crazy." John corrected. He stuffed his English book the best he could in his locker and grabbed his history book.
"Speaking of relationship issues, how was English with Sherlock?" Greg asked with a teasing laugh, kicking John lightly in the side and making the boy wobble over a little bit.
"There are no relationship issues between Sherlock and I Greg, why do you try to make everything gay?" John snapped.
"I'm not trying to make it gay; I'm simply observing the obvious." Greg defended.
"It's obvious that we're supposedly gay?" John asked with a scowl, shutting his locker rather violently.
"Well, I mean, it's obvious that you two might end up together, I mean look at that kid, he pretty much has gay written across his face." Greg laughed. John couldn't really respond to that, so he just stared at Greg in wonder. There was no possible way Sherlock could be gay, could there? Even if he was...it wouldn't matter, John wasn't gay either.
"You...you think he is?" John asked.
"Yes...yes I do. Come on John, you're so desperate you're teeming with hope you just can't wait to taste those soft, rosy lips..." Greg said dramatically.
"Shut up Greg, I do not!" John growled, slapping Greg with his history book and starting to walk away.
"That sounds defensive to me!" Greg called back. John didn't respond, storming down the hallway with a scowl and going all the way to history class, before Greg could rush up and pester him once more. John sat in his seat in history, tapping his pencil against his desk thoughtfully. He wasn't being gay, even if he was; he wasn't obvious about it, was he? I mean, he was keeping his distance, he wasn't being too pushy, he wasn't even attracted to Sherlock, how could Greg claim it was obvious when John couldn't even tell himself? And Sherlock wasn't gay, he was nothing, he was asexual, he didn't want anything to do with romance and love and other people, even the slightest touch of a hand scared him to death. Why did Greg think it was obvious? If only his friends could meet Sherlock as John knew him, as a rather quirky but mysteriously charming boy, as someone who hated the spotlight but loved to put his word into other people's conversations...if they could see that side of Sherlock then surely they'd be able to understand that there was nothing John saw in him, nothing that made him somehow attracted. Sherlock was Sherlock, and there was no changing that now or ever. Well how about John invited Sherlock to sit with them at lunch? That would be a good way for them all to meet each other, to talk and to actually connect the way Sherlock and John had. Maybe then Greg would realize that there was nothing gay between Sherlock and John's relationship, he wasn't even sure if they were officially friends yet. This would work perfectly, because social interactions involving Sherlock Holmes always seem to go splendidly. So when history let out John sped down the hallway, walking as fast as his little legs could carry him, all the way to Sherlock's locker where he just caught the boy undoing his lock. John slowed a little bit, trying to make it seem like he hadn't just dashed through the halls in order to find him. This was a chance meeting, a very convenient thought off of the top of his head, that was all. So John walked slowly in, Sherlock still not noticing he was being watched.
"Sherlock, wow...funny seeing you here." John muttered. Wow that was pathetic, play it off, it was a joke, not an actual greeting. Sherlock scowled, but John smiled up to him, and Sherlock's scowl deepened.
"Wow, it's almost like I go to school here!" Sherlock exclaimed with false enthusiasm.
"Off to lunch huh, got your...your lunch box." John muttered, tapping his hands against his legs nervously.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked, unamused. Obviously this wasn't working as if should've been.
"I was thinking that maybe you wanted to sit with us at lunch, you know, so you don't sit all alone over there." John offered.
"Why would I want to do that?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, we're friends..." John started.
"No we're not." Sherlock interrupted. John frowned once more.
"We're friends, and I hate to see you so alone, I mean, I'm sure you could get along with my friends as well." John insisted.
"What if I like being alone? What if I don't want to interact with you or any of your friends?" Sherlock pointed out. John sighed; he should've guessed it would go like this.
"Well, um, I wasn't anticipating you saying that even though I probably should've seen it coming..." John muttered. "They just want to know more about you is all, I mean, I don't think anyone knows the real you."
"And you're under the impression that you do?" Sherlock asked with a small laugh. John sighed, looking around for his friends in the thinning crowd. He was getting nowhere with this.
"No, I mean, you said the first time we met that I was only going to see one side of you, and I assume you're multidimensional, I don't know, I just thought that we could all use a little bit of bonding." John shrugged.
"What might I get in reward?" Sherlock asked.
"Friends?" John suggested.
"That's weak leverage." Sherlock muttered. John smiled hopefully, trying to pull some puppy dog eyes on Sherlock while he was at it.
"That's a yes, right?" John asked, trying to look as friendly and inviting as he possibly could. Sherlock's scowl didn't waver, but he looked at John and just sighed, as if he had no other choice.
"Fine, alright, fine! I'll sit at your stupid table." Sherlock growled.
"Yay!" John exclaimed. "I'll go get my lunch box, you stay here."
"I have no where better to be." Sherlock sighed as John scampered off. This day was getting better and better, for one of them at least. When John returned Sherlock was leaning carelessly against the lockers, twirling his lunch box between his fingers. Now there was practically no one in the hallway, some groups of kids still waiting to go down to lunch and some couples kissing in the doorways 'discreetly'. Sherlock didn't seem very bothered by them at all, but for some reason the idea of being alone with Sherlock around people making out, well, it wasn't really his cup of tea.
"You won't be sorry about this; honestly my friends are so much fun." John assured.
"Oh yes, they seem like my kind of people." Sherlock muttered. "Athletic, popular, annoying..."
"What is your type then?" John asked.
"My...my type?" Sherlock asked. John just laughed, shaking his head.
"Wrong word, what is your kind of people?" John asked.
"Dead." Sherlock decided, picking up his pace as if he didn't want to say another word.
"Lovely." John sighed, not bothering trying to match with Sherlock's stride. When they got down to the cafeteria Sherlock lingered around the doors, waiting for John to catch up. Obviously he didn't want to saunter into the lunch room and sit down with Greg and them without a formal invitation.