Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter One: The Draw

A/N: Just a few little warnings before you read.. Drama, confusion, anguish, deception, feels, smut, fluff, moments that will make you want to scream and moments that will hopefully make you smile. This fic is a rollercoaster of emotions really; loss, heartbreak, love, happiness, guilt. Then there's the sexual tension...

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own few of the characters. They are the creation of Sir Aurthr Conan Doyle and the BBC. The plot and everything else, however, are mine.

Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter One: The Draw

*

The house was relatively silent. The only sounds that drifted into Sherlock's dim bedroom were the occasional bang of pots and pans. His mother was making breakfast, that was clear from the smell of toast and bacon that hit him as he slowly wakes.

He blinks, the dull light of the typical bleak English morning evading his eyes like a fox in a rabbits burrow. Completely and utterly unwelcome.

With a small sigh of defeat the seventeen year old stretches his legs out, causing his bare feet to poke out from end of the duvet covers. A small shiver runs through Sherlock at the contact between the cold air and his skin. He quickly tucks his feet back into the covers and rolls over, cuddling into the warmth beside him.

The warmth also rolls closer, an arm being lazily throw over his bare waist.

"Good mornin' Sherly" Jim mumbles, his eyes still closed and voice husky from sleep.

Sherlock grunts a reply, reluctant to accept the fact they'd have to get up soon. The break for Easter was over and they needed to be in college by 9am.

Jim chuckles softly, unwrapping himself from the brief barely-a-hug. He stretches like Sherlock had and snatches his feet up the moment they poke out the covers.

"Feck, that's cold" Jim curses, his Irish accent coming out more when he's annoyed.

Sherlock grunts again and tries to bury himself in the covers, refusing to be woken despite already being awake.

The shorter of the two sit up in the bed and glances at the clock sat on the bedside table. As he does the stupid contraption starts blaring the horrid shrill sound it makes to torture Sherlock each morning. Thankfully James hits the button a few seconds into the process.

Sherlock groans and pushes himself into a sitting position, knowing he had to get up. They had school. And the draw.

The last thought put a smile on his face and he stretches again, looking to his friend as he was suddenly in a far better mood. Neither of them had ever been morning people, but the draw was enough to get Irene to school without make-up on (it only happened once) and it was certainly enough to get these two lazy sods out of bed.

"Sherlock.." Jim giggles as Sherlock sits up. The other teen raises an eyebrow at him. "Lovebite" He explains, tapping Sherlock neck where a large and rather visible bruise is.

Sherlock glares, his hand flying up to cover his neck "Damn it Jim"

The Irish cutie holds up his hands in mock defence, still giggling about the lovebite. "Sorry, not sorry"

Sherlock smirks suddenly, moving closer to his closest friend and rival. He licks his lips, slow and teasing as his eyes wonder down Jim's chest.

"If it weren't for the fact we have fifteen minutes to dress and leave for college.." Sherlock whispers, in a voice that sent the ladies up the wall. Sometimes, literally. "I'd make you sorry"