I Know Your Face

I Am Victor Trevor

           

"This is madness." Sherlock's voice insisted, laughing as if it were some sort of joke.
"It's not, I guarantee you." said another, unrecognizable voice. Victor's voice. But John was looking on the scene as an onlooker, and he didn't see himself sitting by Sherlock's side, but another boy, an unfamiliar boy with brown hair and large, thick glasses. But it wasn't him, so who was it? Surely this wasn't the real Victor Trevor, was it?
"I could never, Victor I'm sorry. I couldn't, I shouldn't." Sherlock insisted. They were sitting together on a park bench, far away from anyone else, in fact it seemed like they were the only two people in the world, sitting alone together on a very private bench. But they weren't alone, not really. Not when John was watching the whole scene unfold.
"Sherlock I know you feel the same way, I know you do." Victor insisted, moving closer and gently setting his hand on top of Sherlock's. John could feel the shiver that ran down the boy's spine; he could feel it as if it were his own.
"Victor you know that being...being who we are...it's not natural, not normal. If my parents found out I'd most certainly be thrown out on the street." Sherlock insisted, but he didn't pull his hand away. Obviously he wanted to show affection, but he was too scared to do so. He was listening to that voice inside of his head a little bit too much.
"Not if we keep it secret." Victor insisted. "Not if we keep it safe."
"It's still..." Sherlock cut his own words off, looking away from Victor for a moment. The two of them waiting in uncomfortable silence, yet slowly Sherlock's head started to turn closer, looking Victor into the eyes ever so slowly, as if he were making a point of taking his time. And suddenly they were kissing, like a play unfolding before his eyes, everything that Sherlock had just said flew out the window as soon as his lips met the other boy's. As John watched he felt something that felt like a dagger go through his heart, a stab of pain, remorse maybe, jealousy... It felt almost unnatural to see Sherlock kissing someone, someone that wasn't him...this wasn't fair, it wasn't right, it was supposed to be him, there was no Victor Trevor, he was Victor Trevor...
"I am Victor Trevor!" John exclaimed, sitting up in bed in horror, preparing to throw something defensively. John's eyes widened in panic as he looked around, realizing that he was all alone, it had only been a dream, and it was two o'clock in the morning. What in the world had gotten into him? His heart was beating out of control, his breath had escalated, it felt almost like he really was angry, he almost felt like those feelings he had in the dream, like they were real...But no, of course not, he was being insane. It was only a dream, it meant nothing. John fell back into his pillow uneasily, staring into the darkness and listening to his breath, listening to his heart thudding in his chest. It was only a dream.

                "Why do you look so shaken up?" Mary wondered as John walked into school the following morning, feeling very cold and clammy. He kept feeling that stab of pain, as if Sherlock's kissing someone else affected him somehow, but it made no sense, was he just staying in character too long? Obviously it had to be those love notes, you couldn't write such emotional stuff without getting some aftermath, even if it was just pretend.
"Nothing, couldn't sleep." John said truthfully. Of course he hadn't slept, not a wink after that dream, so that lead to at least four hours of staring into the darkness and trying not to see Sherlock's face staring back. It made no sense, it really didn't, he had absolutely no interest in that boy, he hated him! So why did his dream self feel so betrayed, so jealous when Sherlock's lips had touched someone else's?
"You got it then?" Mary wondered. John looked at her in confusion, looking around the hallway to make sure a certain someone wasn't lingering in ear shot.
"Well, ya, but don't you want to wait a little bit?" he wondered.
"I'm going to do it during English, I'll ask to use the bathroom and slip it into his locker when the halls are empty. That way he can never know when the notes are coming or when to wait for them. Precautionary measures." Mary explained. John blinked, but nodded, realizing that made a lot of sense. She really was the little genius wasn't she? He was proud to call her hisgirlfriend. John opened his locker and threw his things inside, grabbing his English book and shutting his locker back with a snap.
"Want to read it?" John wondered.
"Course I do, when we get to class. How's the voice?" Mary wondered.
"Great TV show, ya." John agreed. "Hi Greg."
"Talking about the Voice? I thought you were more of an American Idol fan." Greg said with a laugh, appearing at Mary's side as they had been talking. John was particularly good at covering up conversations into topics that were Greg appropriate, because obviously they couldn't be discussing Victor Trevor's fake voice if Greg was right there, he'd catch on.
"American Idol was canceled." Mary pointed out in a rather haughty tone. Obviously she didn't like to be interrupted.
"Was it really? God, I didn't even notice." Greg said with a rather guilty shrug.
"Course you didn't, no one did. No one noticed when it was on either." John agreed.
"Poor thing, I used to have that video game you know, on the Wii? You had that microphone and you could sing all of those old songs, it was fun." Greg decided.
"I remember that, we played that together in your basement." John agreed.
"Ya, that's why I thought you'd prefer it to the Voice." Greg pointed out, sounding almost like he was offended.
"I don't watch either Greg, we were just chatting." John assured. Greg nodded, looking at Mary and John for a moment but not being able to decipher what they could've possibly been talking about. When he came up blank he just shrugged, deciding that it was best not to question their motives and went back to picking at a loose thread in his book cover.
"Alright then, we best be going." Mary decided, taking John's hand and leading him down the hallway.
"Bye Greg!" John called.
"Adiós!" Greg called happily, obviously on his way to Spanish. John and Mary headed off to English, a much easier language after so many years, holding hands as they went. It felt nice to hold Mary's hand, it was kind of a wakeup call that the emotions John may have thought he felt in the dream were totally false, he had only been dreaming. Holding Mary's hand gave him very real emotions, proper emotions, a kind of love that he could never feel for creepy old Sherlock Holmes. When they got to English John dropped his stuff off at his desk and retreated back to Mary's desk, in the back corner where no one could overheat their master plan.
"Alright, here it is." John said with a proud smile. "Fourth page maybe? Fifth?I don't know."
"Fifth." Mary assured, stopping after flipping five pages and looking through John's Victor handwriting. It was a lot more organized than his own, it was loopier and smaller, it looked very nice and it almost matched the voice he had created to go along with it. Mary read it, smiling to herself as her eyes scanned the page.
"This is excellent John, excellent! You're never that romantic to me." she pointed out.
"This isn't me talking Mary, it's Victor." John pointed out.
"Then maybe you should wear that wig to one of our dates, see how much it changes things." Mary suggested.
"That would cause a lot of controversies, Sherlock would most certainly murder you if he found out you were going to the movies with his boyfriend." John insisted.
"I'll just say he's my cousin." Mary said with a shrug.
"Now that's just creepy." John decided with a smile.
"Not on a date! Shut up John!" Mary insisted, slapping John in the arm while he laughed. Mary just sighed, folding the letter up into a neat little crease before tucking it into her pocket.
"Do you have the voice down?" she wondered. John cleared his throat, trying to remember just how he had made Victor sound before.
"I don't know, you tell me?" John said in Victor's voice, smiling proudly at himself.
"I'd say you're more committed to this than I am." Mary decided.
"You're the brains of the operation." John said with a shrug.
"You sound perfect; he'll never know it's you." Mary decided with a large smile. John nodded, sitting on the edge of Mary's desk and swinging his short little legs just above the ground.
"That would probably be the worst case scenario, Sherlock finding out who I am. Obviously he'll find out the truth eventually, but if the wig falls off or something, what would he think?" John wondered in terror, imagining the confused look on that weirdo's face.
"Oh don't know, probably that you were in love with him but too scared to admitit for yourself." Mary guessed.
"See, that would be awful." John decided.
"That would be funny." Mary defended with a laugh. "He would be so perplexed."
"Ya, and it would be terrible." John decided. The teacher was starting to move around so he took that as his cue to return to his seat, so he hesitantly moved away from Mary's desk, leaving the newly written letter in her care and returning the notebook to his bag. The class began, and of course nothing exciting happened at all, John really felt the need to fall asleep as the teacher droned on and on about the most boring of topics. Around half way through the period Mary asked to use the bathroom, and John could almost hear the crinkle of notebook paper in her pocket as she made her escape. He knew that when Sherlock arrived at his locker before history, he would have a new note in his possession. This was a rather reassuring thought, it was very satisfying. With every sheet of notebook paper exchanged they were forming a bond, tunneling themselves more and more into this replica of a relationship.  Poor Sherlock, he was probably so happy to have been noticed. Mary returned not five minutes later, a very appropriate and believable amount of time to have gone to the bathroom and back, so no suspicion was aroused when she returned and took her seat. John craned his neck to look at her and she smiled reassuringly, giving him the smallest of nods to say that she had succeeded in delivering the paper. John smiled to himself,looking back at his desk and picturing the joy on Sherlock's face when he opened his locker and saw that piece of notebook paper tumble innocently out. The class was over quickly, and as soon as the bell rang John and Mary were both rushing to the door, desperate to get to Greg's locker to see if they could spot Sherlock over the sea of heads.
"Good?" John wondered.
"Perfect." Mary assured with a smile. They picked up their speed and arrived at the lockers before anyone else, the hallways just starting to come alive. They leaned casually against Greg's locker; casing looks now and then over to where Sherlock's locker should be, still a ways away. There was no real activity going on, which gave them a clear view, but then again Sherlock himself hadn't arrived either. By the time he should've made his appearance the hallways had filled, and John and Mary couldn't get closer even if they wanted to. So once more, whether Sherlock had received his love note or not was a mystery.

"I best be off to history." John decided, winking at Mary as if trying to make sure she knew the real reason he was so keen on going to that class.

"Yes of course, I'll see you at lunch." Mary decided. Greg hadn't showed up to his locker the whole time they had been loitering by it, so obviously they looked pretty suspicious. So they parted ways, John went to history with Sherlock and Mary went who knows where with who knows who, parting with a meager goodbye kiss and walking down opposite ends of the hallway. When John arrived in history the first thing that caught his eye was Sherlock, holding open his book once more but looking a little bit more entranced than usual, as if he had a certain piece of notebook paper stashed in between the pages. John glowed with satisfaction; this was precisely the reaction he had wanted. Sherlock looked very awkward yet flattered, there was an unusual blush in his cheeks and his green eyes were scanning the paper furiously. John took his seat innocently, yet he craned his neck and pretended to be stretching, casting glances every so often to Sherlock's direction to see just what he was up to. There was an odd feeling of adrenaline pumping through John's veins, he wanted to jam that wig on his head and put on those glasses and talk in Victor's voice, he wanted to start this already, it was going too slowly. Alright, love notes were great, and especially when Sherlock was reacting to them, but he wasn't going to ruin Sherlock's spirit just by writing down his feelings. There had to be interaction here, words exchanged, confessions exchanged, touches and kisses and embraces. And after all of that was over, after Sherlock was fully prepared to walk with 'Victor' down the aisle, that was when they told him. That was when Mary hit record and John took off the wig, and they told him everything. Told him that no matter how much he had fallen in love with Victor Trevor, it had all been a lie. He was as alone as ever, and heartbroken. And that was just going to be, well...John sighed heavily, looking down at his desk and feeling kind of guilty. It was going to be great. Sure. That was what he went into this whole thing feeling, and that was going to be what he had to end with. There was no turning back now. As class started up Sherlock tucked his book away, and as John glanced over he was almost positive he saw Sherlock tuck a familiar piece of paper into his pocket, obviously intending on reading it later.

"Alright everyone, we're going to start our first lesson on countries, so you can all get with your partners and take notes together!" The teacher exclaimed, as if they were all supposed to be really happy to spend time with the equivalent of a stranger. John sighed heavily, grabbing his things and lumbering to the back of the class to where Sherlock sat. Sherlock was there with the smallest hint of happiness in his expression, of course h wasn't smiling but there was something about him, a sort of aura that was impossible to miss. He was happy, he felt hope, he felt special.
"What's got you all happy?" John wondered.
"Happy? I'm not happy, why would you say I'm happy?" Sherlock asked very quickly, the most suspicious answer possible. If that there was anything to confirm John's suspicions this would most certainly be it.
"Don't have to get all defensive, you just seem a little bit more optimistic today." John observed.
"Is this you trying to make friendly conversation again? It's not going to work." Sherlock said with a snap. John sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and deciding that it simply wasn't worth it. Sherlock had no idea that the very same person that was making his life worth living was the one person making it seemingly impossible.
"We're supposed to make group notes, so get out your laptop, I shared a Google doc with you and I expect you to use it." Sherlock said with a snap. John groaned, there was the Sherlock that everyone knew and no one loved. This was the Sherlock that John really didn't mind tormenting. So he just got out his laptop and turned it on, waiting for the screen to load and logging into his account. As promised, Sherlock had shared a document titled "Country Notes", so John could only suspect that it was the right one. The teacher droned on and on about basically nothing, all of the information was going in one ear and out the other, but of course Sherlock was typing furiously, as if every breath the teacher took was noteworthy. So John basically had to no work, although it obviously bothered Sherlock when he wasn't doing much.