I Know Your Face

You're Not Victor

When he got to his locker it was only Greg who stood there, watching as everyone went by and wincing as the conversations carried on around him. Obviously he was upset with this whole thing; anyone in their right mind would be bothered by it. Except Mary of course, the one who started the whole thing in the first place. She was probably proud that her genius photography was so popular.
"Hey John." Greg muttered as John swung open his locker and grabbed his lunch box, stuffing his history book into the back for tomorrow.
"Hey." John muttered weakly. There was a bit of a silence, and John could just sense the thoughts that were going through Greg's head. He was wondering just what might be going on, and he had every right to. John and Mary were acting suspicious at best, and he wasn't an idiot all of the time.
"John are you sure you have nothing to do with all of this?" Greg wondered quickly. John sighed, closing his locker and looking at Greg passively.
"With the pictures?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"Yes, about the pictures. You're acting odd." Greg decided. Yes indeed, he was acting odd.
"I didn't do anything, I wouldn't dare. As much as I hate that boy I would never want to see his life ruined like this, it appalls me." John said flatly. Greg smiled in relief, looking as if that had been just what he wanted to hear.
"Who do you think it was?" Greg wondered.
"Greg, we'll never know. The moment their identity gets out they'll get suspended or worse, just let it go." John suggested.
"Where are the girls?" Greg wondered, looking around as if he hadn't even heard what John had said.
"Who knows? Who really cares? Mary's actually starting to scare me at this point." John admitted.
"I know, right? It's weird, she's been so sarcastic." Greg said with a little huff.
"Cruel is the word you're looking for." John corrected.
"Ya, I guess so." Greg agreed. "She didn't do this, did she?" he wondered.
"Greg, are you really going to try to accuse you're whole friend group of being these horrible bullies? Who's next on your accusation list, Molly?" John wondered. "She's real suspicious Greg, you better check her out."
"Don't try to make me look like an idiot John, I'm just making guesses." Greg insisted.
"Ya, alright then." John agreed with a sigh, leaning against the lockers and hearing more laughter echo down the hallway. It cut into his ears like sonic booms, the horrific sound of people mocking the beautiful Sherlock Holmes; it was almost too much to bear.
"You can just go down Greg; I'm going to wait for Mary." He decided.
"You sure?" Greg wondered, watching as the crowds started to move from the hallways to the cafeteria. Obviously he wanted to join them.
"Ya, I'm fine, you go ahead." John assured, waving him along and trying to make it clear that this wasn't out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted some time alone, he couldn't stand talking to people, hearing them laugh and seeing them pass their phones along to their friends. He hated them, he hated them all. Greg nodded, saying a little goodbye before disappearing down the hallway with the crowds. As soon as he was gone John jumped to his feet, walking against the crowds towards some of the deserted hallways for some peace. Everyone would be at the cafeteria by now, they wouldn't bother him. Maybe he could even sit and eat in the dark serenity of the auditorium, where his life had been completed with a simple kiss. He was nomadic now, or at least for this lunch period. He didn't want to hear Greg's accusations, or Molly's whimpering, or feel Mary's suspicious eyes on him as he ate his sandwich. He didn't want to interact at all with those people; he just wanted to be alone. John was halfway down the back hallway when he heard voices, not the type of thing he wanted to hear when he wanted to be alone, but still, he heard them. And they sounded mean. John ducked into a doorway as soon as he recognized the voice of Jim Moriarty, the school's meanest, jerkiest bully around. He seemed to be laughing, talking to his favorite crony, no doubt Sebastian Moran. John could already feel hate shimmying down his spine, listening to their cruel voices in this deserted hallway.
"Oh stop it, stop fighting my dear it won't do anything. We just wanted to talk you know, just talk." Jim's voice sang. John heard the sound of someone being pushed against lockers, all of the doors wobbling on their cheap hinges. He heard the undeniable sounds of a struggle, and he knew that there could only be one boy under their fists.
"Sherlock I said stop struggling." Jim growled, and suddenly there was a smacking sound, and Sherlock cried out in pain. John held his breath, if they knew he was here they would attack him as well, and there was no way he could ever stand up to those two, not alone at least.
"Now there we go, there we are." Jim whispered.
"Careful Jim, don't get too close. Remember just who we're dealing with." said Moran's voice, laughing as if this were some sort of cruel joke.
"Oh shush Seb, don't make me remind you of that night back in October." Jim warned. John didn't hear Moran's voice much after that.
"What do you want with me?" Sherlock wondered, and John pressed the side of his face against the brick wall he was hiding behind, his fists clenched so tightly he was worried his knuckles would break free.
"Just to talk Sherlock, to talk. We were wondering just where you found your little plaything, and who he is." Moriarty purred. John heard Sherlock struggle a little bit, the sound of his heel slamming into the lockers with the rest of him. He wanted to help; in fact, he needed to help, but not yet.
"No, I won't..." Sherlock insisted loyally, and John heard Jim's demonic laugh ring out through the corridors.
"Who is he?" Jim repeated just as carelessly.
"He's my boyfriend, that's all you'll ever know." Sherlock snapped. There was another banging of the lockers, and Sherlock whimpered quietly. John clenched onto the wall, the rough brick cutting into his fingers, he had to do something, he had to help, but he simply couldn't. It would be too much, it would mean too much. He couldn't interfere, but he had to listen. He had to witness his love getting beat against the lockers, defending a boy who wasn't even real. The loyalty, the love Sherlock had for Victor, it was almost unbelievable. It was painful.
"I want to know his name Sherlock, that's all." Jim assured.
"So you can torture him as well? I don't think so." Sherlock insisted.
"Again Sebby." Jim insisted, and the lockers shook once more. Sherlock groaned, and John heard Jim laugh again, a cold, horrible laugh that only sounded when someone was in pain. John shut his eyes tight, he had to, hehad to. He couldn't.
"Tell me the name Sherlock, or I will beat it out of you. I just want to talk to him, maybe do a mental health evaluation, to try to find a reason he would be attracted to you." Jim said with a little laugh. "Again." the lockers shook, and Sherlock whimpered, but he didn't speak. He wouldn't give up the name.
"Then again, I do see the appeal. You are a pretty one Sherlock, pity really. Again." Jim insisted. The lockers shook. John growled, but finally he dropped his lunch box to the floor, his backpack tumbling down with it and he stepped out from behind the wall, walking over to where he saw a horrible scene playing out. Sherlock was pinned to the wall with one of Moran's massive hands, held just so his toes could scrape the floor, held up by his neck. His nose was bloody, his face red, bruises just starting to form, and Jim was dancing around the scene as if this was all great fun. The sight of them beating up poor Sherlock was too much for John to bear, as soon as he saw them he knew there was no turning back, the rage bubbling in his chest was only going to be released one way.
"You let him go." John said loudly, walking right up to the two boys and stopping, holding himself to his tallest height. His Victor height. Jim stopped for a moment, a smile spreading even wider across his face, as if this were really something to see.
"John Watson? Come to defend Sherlock Holmes? This really is an opera." He said with a laugh, stepping closer to John with his arms crossed. John wasn't scared of Moriarty, at least not his body. Jim probably couldn't punch John if he tried, but with no more than a simple hand gesture he could send Moran, his mad dog, right at John's throat. It was Moran he was afraid of.
"Let him go." John repeated. Sherlock's eyes were wide under the curtain of blood sprouting from his eyebrow, he looked amazed and confused, not to mention grateful.
"And what are you going to do about it Johnny boy? Stop me? Tell a teacher, go running to mommy?" Jim wondered.
"I'm going to stop you." John decided flatly. That was a bad idea, that was such a bad idea, but right now his mind was just full of these horrible plans that would most likely get him killed.
"Go ahead then, stop me. Moran my love, please show Johnny here a good time." Jim said with a smile. Sebastian finally let go of Sherlock, letting the poor boy slide to the floor, gasping for breath. The longer John looked at his broken form the angrier he got, until finally he was sure that he could take both of these horrible boys on at once.
"Come on then, let's go." John decided, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as Moran walked over, massive and terrifying, with blood on his knuckles. Sherlock's blood. John wasn't discouraged, he wasn't even scared. Let's go. It was over before John could even processes what had happened, he felt pain on the side of his face and suddenly the lockers shook once more, he slid to the ground next to Sherlock, dazed and confused, and heard more laughing in front of him. Horrible, cruel laughing.
"Alright then Sebby, I suppose we'll do our own digging, find Romeo to our gay Juliet. Until then, let's let these lovers bleed out." Jim's voice sang in front of them. John blinked, their horrible shapes becoming clearer, colors, that was all. Colors and shapes and voices. But when they were gone, John could tell. He blinked rapidly, the empty hallway finally coming into focus, hearing Sherlock groaning beside him, but John was silent. The world was still spinning.
"John?" Sherlock muttered, letting his head fall onto his shoulder so that he could see the other boy.
"Yes Sherlock?" John wondered, his own voice sounding metallic in his ears.
"Thank you." Sherlock muttered, obviously not knowing what else to say. What were you even supposed to say after something like this?
"You're welcome Sherlock." John whispered, and with that his head bobbled onto his shoulder, the spinning world finally going dark.