I Know Your Face

With Love, Your Secret Admirer

           

The bell finally rang, and suddenly the entire hoard of kids tried to escape the cafeteria, funneling into the hallway like a cattle chute. John and Mary took their time, partially because they didn't want to get caught in the mess of people flooding the hallways, but also because they were in no hurry to get to their next class period. Mary was probably feeling very proud of herself right about now, being able to come up with such an evil plan in only a day. John had to admit, it was genius. She really put a lot of time and effort into making sure Sherlock's life was properly ruined. He had his doubts, of course. John wondered how far she was going to be willing to go, just how violent they both were willing to become. There was part of John that wondered if this plan would even begin, if Mary would even have the guts to slip that first note into the poor, unsuspecting locker of Sherlock Holmes. And another part of John wondered when she would ever be satisfied enough to stop. John sort of suspected he was going to end up walking down the aisle with a wig and glasses on just so they could both have the satisfaction of divorce papers. And how was this whole thing going to end? With the first kiss, with the first love confession? Would Mary put an end to it when she thought it felt like Sherlock was completely love struck, or was she going to wait until they graduated, so that Sherlock lived a whole year thinking that someone loved him? John really hoped this thing wouldn't go on forever, partially because he wasn't sure he could stand talking to Sherlock and pretending to be interested in him for that long. The thought that John may have to kiss Sherlock, another boy, a hateful boy at that, well it was terrifying. Maybe he could claim that Victor had some sort of rare disease, something that was deadly and only transmitted by saliva. Or maybe he could insist that Victor was too scared to kiss anyone. Oh well, he'd think of an excuse when the time comes, he'll burn that bridge when he comes to it. But until then, he had some writing to do, the first step in one of the most evil and immoral plans in the history of the world. Before John could escape off to practice he had to go through math class and detention, so he got some evil stares and then when he was released he got yelled at, this day was looking to get better and better. As soon as John walked into the math classroom Mr. Anderson looked livid, watching as he entered with a mean little smile on his face.
"Glad to see you again Mr. Watson." The teacher snapped, watching as John took his seat with a scowl. Of course Sherlock was already there, sitting in his seat and trying to look as innocent as possible, reading his stupid biography and looking up at John with very curious eyes.
"Oh hello." Sherlock said lamely, flipping the page and continuing to read. John wanted to slap him but he knew that he would be able to get all of this anger out later; all of it would be starting to flow out tonight when he worked on his first letter. Sherlock was going to get what was coming to him, John had promised him that and he was not going to let his promise become a lie. Sherlock was going to suffer at his hands, at the hands of the entire school. He was going to pay. The whole of math class was just getting evil looks from many different people. Sherlock would give him those innocent little glares, those soft looks that were just asking for a beat down. Mr. Anderson would glare at John accusingly, and the whole class knew it. He looked angry, probably not because John cheated but because John got away without much of a punishment. Greg would stare at John in betrayal, not wanting to say anything because he somehow blamed John for their awful performance yesterday, letting the team get beat so badly. It wasn't John's fault that the rest of the team wasn't as good as he was; they couldn't blame him for all of their problems. But thankfully no one talked to him, in fact Sherlock's only words the entire class had been 'oh hello'. He was silent, even if his antagonizing glares spoke a million words. By the time John was able to escape that hellhole he was just back to another one, detention. He knew that this detention was the beginning of four other ones, but it honestly wasn't that bad. He only had to sit in a desk in the principal's office and pretend to study math problems, all while mindlessly doodling on the side of some notebook paper. It only lasted an hour, probably because the secretaries wanted to go home as much as he did. So as soon as that hour was up John was released, running to the bathroom to change into his soccer clothes before racing over to the field desperately. He had almost hoped for a warm welcome, but evidently everyone sided with Greg in this blame game. So John was tormented mostly all practice, being blamed the entire soccer practice for the loss the previous day. The coach yelled at him, the captains yelled at him, even the freshman were daring enough to throw his dirty looks while they did passing drills. The only thing that was keeping John from blowing up was knowing that he was going to put this whole thing right, he was going to make the boy responsible for all of this torment pay with more than his life, but with his ego. Maybe this was all just rationalization, trying to blame someone else for your own problems, but it made John feel a heck of a lot better while he was getting yelled at to think about Sherlock crying like a baby. He wanted to see that idiot's mask of self-confidence shatter as he saw his own heart break.  As soon as soccer practice was done, John raced back to his car, dragging his backpack and soccer bag with him as he went, and drove home as fast as he could without any sort of goodbye.
"Oh hello John, have a nice day at school?" Mrs. Watson asked from the kitchen.
"No of course not." John snapped. He heard his mother sigh, but obviously she didn't have anything more to say. It wasn't like she was going to somehow convince John that this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding, surely she wasn't going to back him up in saying that it was all Sherlock's fault. So they were both silent, and Mrs. Watson let John run up to his room, carrying Mary's notebook in pen in his hands as he went. John got up to his room and shut the door, wishing that he had his phone on him so that he could text Mary and ask just what to do. He had never written a love note before, especially never to a boy, and never to someone he despised. This whole plan was really going to take a lot of effort, a lot of dedication and sacrifice on John's part, and a lot of ruthlessness on Mary's. John sat up on his bed, noticing that his TV remote had been taken, presumably by his mother to ensure his grounding was all around torment. Obviously if John really wanted to watch TV he could always just go up to the TV itself and press the buttons, but both he and his mother knew that he was too lazy to ever do that. But no matter, he couldn't watch TV and write gay love letters at the same time, so maybe it was fitting. John unfolded the notebook and looked over Mary's checklist, clicking the pen and beginning on an empty page. Now it wasn't John Watson writing, it was Victor Trevor, he had to pretend that he was breathlessly in love with that poor excuse for a human, he needed to pretend that every move that monster made was the most beautiful action in the world. This was going to be a lot harder than he had thought.
Dear Sherlock, John wrote, tapping his pen against the paper for a moment and shaking his head, flipping to the next page. That sounded too formal, like a cover letter for a resume instead of a letter of love.
Sherlock, my love... No that wasn't going to work either. John sighed heavily, shaking his head and scratching it out, just so no one found this notebook and saw that scrawled at the top of it. Then this whole plan would back fire, and instead of outing Sherlock, John would accidently out himself. That would be a disaster, even if he wasn't actually gay.
My dearest Sherlock, John wrote, staring at the three words for a moment before smiling. Yes, that sounded appropriate.
You don't know me, I'm sure you've never even noticed me as you go about your day to day life, but I know you. It pains me to admit such a thing, especially when I can't tell it to your beautiful face, but I'm afraid I've fallen desperately in love with you. John sighed, looking at what he wrote with a rather disgusted face. It looked good, I guess, definitely the work of a boy too scared to admit his love. So John continued, thinking for a moment before scrawling more words down in a handwriting that most certainly wasn't his own.
I know that's kind of forward, but it doesn't matter in the slightest, because you'll never know who I am. Unless you wanted to, but you'd have to promise not to laugh. I'm not...I'm not like the other kids in our school Sherlock, who push you away and cast hateful looks in your direction. They don't see you how I see you, I think you're beautiful, and charming, and...perfect. I feel stupid just writing this letter, you don't seem like the type to engage in such emotional behaviors, but if you did, if you were tempted, well, just know that I'm always here. It hurts to love someone but know you have no chance with them, maybe you understand. Just know that I think I know who you are, and I am just the same.
With love,
Your secret admirer. John read his work over and over again until he could almost quote the words in his head, nodding twice before finally putting down the pen. That sounded nice, that sounded desperate. But how was he could to let Sherlock know that it was from a boy, Sherlock would most certainly assume that his admirer was female, right? If Sherlock assumed that it was a girl, well, the whole plan could be ruined, because they were basing their entire theory on the fact that Sherlock was gay. But John shook his head, deciding that if it was wrong they could just rewrite it, Mary was going to have to be the expert on this whole thing. So John doodled a little heart next to his signature as 'the secret admirer', just to ensure Sherlock that these feelings were actually real. It was almost laughable, having to write a love letter to the boy who had destroyed his entire life. If anyone had told him that he would be writing his love out to Sherlock he probably would've smashed their head into a mirror, but look at him now. But alas, it would all be worth it. This torment, this horror, it was worth all of the no homo bros in the world to break that idiot's heart, one love letter at a time.

"Do you have it?" Mary asked as soon as John walked into the classroom. She was sitting on top of her desk in the back corner, looking very anxious to get this show started. John nodded, grabbing the notebook out of his bag and letting Mary flip through it anxiously.
"Fourth page." John said simply.
"Ya, I know." Mary agreed, her feet swinging off of the desk as she read. "Oh that's good, that's really good."
"Thanks, it took me a couple of tries." John admitted with a proud smile. It wasn't every day when your girlfriend complemented you on your gay love letter skills.
"I'd almost believe this came from the heart." Mary said with a laugh. "I don't have to be that jealous girlfriend now, do I?" she wondered. John just laughed, snatching back the notebook and closing it defensively.
"Don't you dare even try that, you were the one that made this whole scheme up kin the first place." John defended, blushing defensively nevertheless
"Yes, I know, it's it lovely?" Mary wondered with a happy sigh, looking very proud of herself.
"When are we going to give it to him?" John wondered, thinking of a time when the hallways would be empty.
"Lunch, probably." Mary decided with a shrug. John nodded, but suddenly found a flaw in their master plan.
"How do we even know what locker is his?" John wondered, looking at Mary in horror. This would all be for nothing if they slipped the note in the wrong locker. But Mary just laughed, as if John's suspicions meant nothing to her.
"Oh don't worry John; I'm one step ahead of you there." She assured. John just looked at her suspiciously, wondering what kind of stalkery Mary had gotten herself into.
"What did you do?" John asked with a nervous laugh. Mary just shrugged, looking up at John with a very cunning evil smile.
"I may have followed him to his locker one day, watching him open locker 221." Mary said with a smile. John just sighed, opening the notebook and writing 221 below Victor's name on the paper.
"You're evil." He decided.
"Oh I know." Mary agreed with a smile. "I know." Their conversation was cut off when the teacher started to do attendance, and unfortunately John was corralled back to his seat, stuffing the notebook back into his backpack before anyone could see it. So their master plan began today at lunch, this was starting toget really exciting. John wondered what kind of reaction Sherlock would get, obviously by math class Sherlock will have read the note, and then John got to monitor his reaction all throughout the period. This was going to fabulous.When English was finally over John walked to history class, feeling rather excited to see Sherlock for the first time in his life. This was going to be the calm before the storm; it was going to be the last normal hour and a half Sherlock ever had before his life started to get a lot better. Sherlock was now boarding a roller coaster that just kept going up, that is until Mary and John decide to stop it, but instead of the ride going downhill Sherlock was just going to fall out of the car, splattering onto the sidewalk below. It was going to be excellent. John sat in his seat in history and craned his neck to look over at Sherlock, who, it seemed, was reading a completely new book than the one he had been reading before, as if he had finished the previously brick of literature. John just smiled to himself, turning his attention back to the desk in front of him and thinking about the plan a little bit more.
"Alright class, I've got a bit of a surprise for you all!" the teacher said excitedly, looking around the room at all of their bored faces. John simply couldn't wait for what a teacher thought was a surprise, because he was sure,whatever it was, that it was going to be horrible.
"I'm going to assign you all a project, a final project if you will, as we get into the various countries. You'll make a large presentation throughout the semester that will talk about all the different cultures and histories of these countries, and it will be considered as half of your final exam." The teacher said with a large, enthusiastic smile. The rest of the class just stared back at her in horror, wondering if she were serious or not. The teacher looked very excited, obviously John wasn't the only one planning a horrible, life ending scheme yesterday.
"Oh don't look like that, you can work with a partner." She insisted. John just sighed, knowing his luck he would be paired up with someone that did absolutely no work, someone who was going to leave the entirety of the project to him.
"We can pick a partner then?" someone wondered, craning their neck to look at their friend hopefully. The teacher just laughed her evil laugh, shaking her head proudly.
"No of course not, it'll be completely random." She said with a smile. She held up what looked to be a cheap old top hat, shaking it around proudly as if what lie inside was the best idea she's ever had.
"I'm going to pick out of this hat." She said with a smile.
"You actually got a hat?" someone wondered, and the teacher's smile dropped a little bit.
"I wanted it to be authentic." She defended. John couldn't help but laugh, the public school system was really going downhill. She just shook her head, setting the hat down on the table and reading off names as she drew them.