I Know Your Face

Holmes Family Hurricane

    "You look horrible." Sherlock decided with a little laugh. John couldn't help but smile, trying to sit up and groaning with the tremendous effort. The longer his head was upright the more his ears pounded, but he didn't want Sherlock to think he was weak, that this was actually getting to him.
"Have you seen yourself lately?" John wondered, groaning and clutching his head in agony.
"Lay down you idiot, you'll kill yourself." Sherlock insisted, walking closer to the bed and dragging over one of the pale blue chairs, sitting down and crossing his legs daintily.
"I'm fine, honestly, I'm fine." John assured. He pushed himself up so that his back was against the headboard, and with that the world spun, and he let out a little exclamation of surprise before sinking back into the bed, letting his head fall back on his pillow in agony.
"It's alright to not be fine. I understand." Sherlock assured. John nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and reopening them, half expecting Sherlock to disappear. But no, he was still there, sitting in his chair and looking rather awkward. John didn't know what to say, and obviously Sherlock needed to start this conversation, there was only one thing he could say.
"Well, I suppose I should thank you." Sherlock muttered, his feet kicking at the tiles very awkwardly. That social confidence he had with Victor diminished as soon as he was around someone he felt threatened by, he looked as if he wanted to run and hide. Little did he know he was talking to Victor, and he could honestly just do whatever he wanted, be who he really was. John didn't mind.
"You're welcome." John said with a grin, and Sherlock shook his head, laughing a little bit as if John was ridiculous.
"I have no idea why you would help me, but I suppose if you hadn't been there I might have been where you are now, just recovering from unconsciousness." Sherlock admitted.
"Ya well, those two are jerks, obviously you needed a big strong man to come and save you." John said with a little smile. Sherlock just laughed again, but he looked like he was at a loss for words. Obviously he had no idea what to say, this was the first time John Watson had ever been nice to him, ever noticed him really. And John was veering dangerously close to being Victor right now; his words were almost parallel to what Victor would say in this situation. But was he not Victor, really? Putting his life on the line for Sherlock, only to see that boy's beautiful smile again? Maybe he could be a little bit flirtatious here, in the attempt to get a cute little flirt in exchange.
"Well uh, I'm sure they're not done. But I suppose for now I'm safe." Sherlock admitted. John nodded, and another heavy silence fell over the two of them. John noticed a tremendous difference of himself as well, when he was talking to Sherlock without the wig to hide under. It was a lot more awkward, because here there were feelings unshared, words unsaid. There was a thick wall of misconception separating the two of them, and John felt like he was never going to pass through it until the wig came off forever.
"Are you alright though?" John wondered. Sherlock nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly and looking down at the ground.
"Ya, well, ya. I'm alright." He assured. "I'm...out." he added in a very weak voice. There was more silence, and John couldn't help but reposition his arm, the crinkling of the wax paper breaking the silence in the most horrible way.
"Yes well it didn't come as a surprise to anyone who knew you." John assured. "If that makes you feel any better."
"You're the only one in this school that knows me I suspect. You're the only one who bothers trying." Sherlock pointed out. John nodded, that was oddly romantic, in a way.
"Ya, I suppose. Me and your boyfriend, whoever he is." John added. Sherlock smiled, a small little smile that he simply couldn't hide behind any little stare at the floor.
"Yes, yes." Sherlock agreed.
"What's his name?" John wondered, a daring question considering it was the same one Moriarty and Moran had asked. Sherlock was silent for a moment, ducking his head in shame.
"Victor." He muttered. John nodded, that name filling his ears in the most beautiful way. Victor Trevor, the boy he aspired to be.
"That's a nice name." John decided.
"Yes it is, it's a wonderful name." Sherlock agreed quickly, his small voice barely making it to John's ears.
"I'm happy for you Sherlock, I really am. You deserve someone to love you, and it really doesn't matter to me if it's a girl or a boy, as long as you're happy. I don't know why they're terrorizing you about it." John insisted.
"Thank you John." Sherlock muttered, obviously not knowing what else to say on that topic.
"Are you alright though?" John wondered, propping himself up just a little bit more so that he could see Sherlock's beautiful bandaged face a little bit clearer.
"Ya, I mean, it's just a scratch, I'll be alright." Sherlock assured.
"Emotionally, not physically. All of these bullies, everyone with that picture, you must be miserable." John insisted. Sherlock just laughed, as if this were a rather ironic subject.
"John, I'm used to bullies, I'm immune to their taunting by now. I don't care if everyone knows who I am and who I love, it doesn't really bother me. I've got Victor now; I don't really need anyone else. I've never been happier in my life." Sherlock admitted, looking up at John with a small little smile. John couldn't help but smile back, but he let his head sink farther into the pillows in despair. Sherlock didn't need him; he just said that flat out. Who cares if Victor and John were the same person, Sherlock didn't want John Watson, he was irrelevant. It was Victor, it was always Victor, how could John be jealous of himself? How could he manage to despise his alter ego? But Sherlock was never going to love John Watson, even if his boyfriend really was John Watson in a wig. At that moment their conversation was interrupted by the doors bursting open, and two familiar faces came rushing into the room.
"Oh Sherlock my baby, are you alright? Oh you look horrible, how dare they hurt you like this!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed, sweeping her son off of the chair and into her arms. Mycroft stood by the door as well, although his expression was icy. He seemed to be more focused on John laying in the bed than Sherlock, his damaged brother.
"I'm fine mom, come on, honestly I'm fine." Sherlock growled, pushing her away as if embarrassed of her motherly compassion.
"Sherlock we were worried sick, the school called, we thought you had been killed!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed, looking at her son with a very loving expression.
"Well, she was worried; she only recruited me to come along because I had a nicer car." Mycroft said proudly.
"Oh Mycroft, shush." Mrs. Holmes snapped, waving her hand disapprovingly at her eldest son as if he were embarrassing her.
"And who are you?" she wondered, suddenly noticing John in the bed, looking rather awkward as he observed this family interaction. Of course he knew these people, they just didn't know him. He was very thankful for the bruise on the side of his face; obviously he would be unrecognizable when half of his face was black and blue.
"Oh um, John. John Watson." John muttered. Mrs. Holmes's smile faded just a little bit, looking at him in sudden surprise.
"You're the one who choked my boy in the hallway, who gave him those bruises." She pointed out, as if just making the connection. "You didn't do this, did you?"
"No, no ma'am I didn't, I wouldn't dare." John assured very quickly. The last thing he needed was for Sherlock's mother to hate him as well. That would make just another member of the Holmes family who preferred his wig to him. Sherlock looked humiliated, as if his mother's interrogations were too embarrassing for him to bear.
"Mom he helped me today, if it weren't for him I'd have gotten beaten to a pulp." Sherlock defended, stepping closer to John's bedside in defense. John looked over at Mycroft, who nodded his silent approval. That was reassuring, to say the least.
"Oh." Mrs. Holmes muttered, obviously feeling bad about jumping to conclusions. "I'm sorry then, thank you."
"No problem, least I could do." John assured in a meek little mutter. Mrs. Holmes looked around, looking to Mycroft, who swung his umbrella carelessly across the ground, fixated on a spot in the tiles.
"Where's Victor?" Mrs. Holmes asked in a loud whisper, and Sherlock just groaned, walking in a small circle as if hoping he could get away from his embarrassing mother.
"He's not here mom, chill." Sherlock snapped.
"You'd think he would come, check up on you." Mrs. Holmes whispered. John could only smile at that irony.
"He's not in school today." Sherlock said flatly.
"Oh, is he alright? Such a nice boy, so polite." She added, looking John's general direction as if she were trying to keep him engaged in this conversation. John nodded with a smile, a genuine smile at that. Sherlock's humiliation was enough to make anyone smile.
"Speaking of Victor, I found something in the hallway, something I found...curious." Mycroft added, walking up to Sherlock with a smile on his face. Sherlock looked at him in terror, taking a small step back, obviously knowing what was coming. Mycroft just smiled, handing Sherlock what seemed to be a large printed picture of the kiss, the picture that was circling around on everyone's phones. So it had made it to paper, brilliant. Now it was going to be taped all over the hallways.
"Oh, god, no, give me that!" Sherlock exclaimed, ripping it out of Mycroft's hands desperately, his cheeks blushing so furiously John suspected they might catch on fire.
"Great picture, really, I just never wanted to see my little brother about to kiss someone. Ghastly." Mycroft admitted with a shiver. Sherlock looked like he wanted to die, looking over at John in embarrassment. John just gave him a reassuring smile, trying to tell him that he totally understood. He knew this Holmes family only too well; he knew firsthand what levels of humiliation they were capable of.
"The kids at school aren't being mean to you, are they?" Mrs. Holmes asked worriedly, trying to take the picture back from Sherlock. He simply dodged her hand, folding the picture up in a neat little square and tucking it into his pocket, as if he intended to keep it.
"Mom, if you're going to take me home, just do it. Don't stay here and humiliate me for the rest of the day." Sherlock demanded. John couldn't help but laugh, and Mrs. Holmes gave him a sweet little smile.
"John doesn't mind I'm sure, he's probably craving some entertainment after being trapped in this horrible drab room." Mrs. Holmes guessed.
"You got it Mrs. Holmes, humiliate away." John assured. Sherlock turned a whole new shade of scarlet, and proceeded to drag his mother away.
"Just come check me out, then I can go home." He insisted, pulling on her wrist to take her back to see the nurse. This left just John and Mycroft, both of who were rather awkward in this silence. John shuffled around on the paper bed once more, trying to make it seem like he was readjusting his head to let it lay flatter. Honestly he didn't know what he was really doing, just filling the silence with that accursed crinkling perhaps. Mycroft sighed heavily, taking a couple of steps towards the bed, his umbrella clicking along with the heels on his shoes. Oh, here we go.
"John I suppose I must thank you." He muttered, sounding as if thanking someone was a terrible burden. Obviously he would rather go around terrorizing people and threatening them rather than congratulating them. John nodded, trying to sit up so that he could at least look Mycroft in the eyes. Then again his head was still pounding, so he decided to say flat.
"It wasn't anything major, I mean, I would've done it for anyone." John muttered guiltily, trying to make it sound like he wasn't some hero. Trying to sound humble when he knew he deserved the praise.
"It was major Mr. Watson, in my eyes and certainly in the eyes of my brother. You obviously sacrificed yourself for his wellbeing, which is a feat I would never have expected from someone like you." Mycroft decided.
"Someone like me?" John wondered, wanting some clarification on that. Mycroft paused for a moment, as if trying to pick his words carefully.
"A bully." He said after a moment's thought.
"I'm not a bully." John said quickly, wincing at that hateful word. Mycroft didn't know that half of what was going on, he didn't understand that John loved and cared for Sherlock most in this world.
"No, I suppose I miscalculated. Misjudged. Be proud of yourself Mr. Watson, that rarely ever happens." Mycroft said, a ghost of a smile on his face, as if he were too scared to show actual positive emotion. John was about to open his mouth to respond when they were thankfully intercepted by Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes, who was now fussing over his messy curls. He was smacking her hand away very tactically, but she just kept going in to try to put them in their rightful places.
"Are you ready to go Mikey?" Mrs. Holmes asked in a bit of a baby voice, as if he eldest son was still only five. John couldn't help but laugh, there was such a difference between Mrs. Holmes and her children, it was almost astounding. He could only wonder if these stuffy boys would grow into pestering mothers as well. He imagined he and Sherlock raising a girl together, and Sherlock being all particular about what she wore and how her hair looked and who she was making friends with in school. They could be the stereotypical gay power couple, it would be excellent.
"My name is not Mikey." Mycroft growled, turning away from the bed with a dramatic huff and walking towards the door.
"John honey are your parents on their way?" Mrs. Holmes wondered, walking over to where John lay to make sure he was well taken care for.
"Oh, ya, they are, the nurse called them about ten minutes ago." John assured with a smile.
"Well that's good. And thank you, by the way, for saving my poor Sherlock's life. I doubt he had the courage to tell you himself, but he's very thankful." She added in a little whisper.
"I thanked him!" Sherlock insisted, as if he felt the need to defend himself.
"He did." John clarified, and Mycroft cast a surprised eye towards Sherlock, who was looking very grumpy in the presence of his family.
"Well, thank you from all of us I suppose." Mrs. Holmes said with a smile, patting John on the shoulder before turning back to her sons and starting out the door.
"Bye Sherlock." John muttered, repositioning himself on the bed so that he could see them as they left. Sherlock looked back just in time, smiling a very quick, guilty smile of farewell before letting himself get dragged away by his mother, who was still going on and on about how he could've been killed. John lay there in silence for a couple of minutes, pressing on his face very gently with his fingers to see just how badly it hurt. The answer, of course, was a lot. It hurt a lot. He still felt good about himself though, he wouldn't take it back for anything in the world. Sherlock was thankful, Mycroft approved, and Mrs. Holmes was practically glowing with admiration, and all in all he had saved Sherlock from those horrible bullies. What more could he ask for, he was a hero in Sherlock's mind. He was no longer going to be that bully, no longer the awkward, annoying person in math class. He was Sherlock's savior, his knight in shining armor, and hopefully Sherlock would remember that when that wig was finally taken off. Oh no, the bruise on the side of his face! What if Sherlock wanted to meet with Victor, how did Joh hide such a distinguishable mark? A bruise in the exact same place as John, surely he couldn't make a cover story for that, could he? Was he just supposed to avoid being Victor for the amount of time it took to heal? Would it ever heal? What if he gets a scar and that passes from John to Victor and Sherlock starts to get suspicious? This was potentially chaotic! Oh, whatever, there were ways to keep Victor far away from Sherlock. One of those ways was only too apparent now, in this sea of torment and humiliation. Victor could say that he didn't want to spark any more fires for the time being, that they should keep their heads down and lay low for a while. That was reasonable and not only would it let John avoid being Victor with this ugly blemish, but it would give John more and time with Sherlock, hopefully. Maybe now they could be friends, maybe Sherlock would come sit at their lunch table. Oh that would be wonderful, sitting between his girlfriend and his one true love, that wouldn't complicate anything.