I Know Your Face

The Most Stressful Dress-up Party

Dispute all of the hype about the game he simply couldn't concentrate, he kept zoning out in math, wondering how he was going to give Sherlock the slip and justify being absent for the whole of the game. He was sick, that was an easy one. Just say that his stomach wasn't feeling good, fake a couple of moans and groans, and leave the bleachers for the field. Or he could go to get drinks and get caught up in the line for the rest of the game, that could work as well. It was going to be tricky, he knew that going in, he had to make sure that Sherlock didn't suspect him of any lies or foul play, and make sure he made no connection between Victor's sudden illness and John's lateness. The moment Sherlock suspected their connection was the moment the whole thing capsized. Usually the clock moved slowly, usually the minute hand dragged along, the seconds ticking by whenever they felt like it, but today the clock seemed to be going faster than John's heart. He didn't even have time to process that math class before the bell rang, and suddenly they were all shuffled off to fourth period, the final of the day. John could barely get out of his seat because his legs were shaking so badly, everyone kept talking about the game, patting him on the back, wishing him luck.
"Hey John?" Sherlock's voice asked just as John was about to leave the classroom. Sherlock walked very swiftly to catch up to him, looking very nervous as he approached, as if this were some sort of scandalous confrontation.
"Ya?" Joh wondered in a shaking voice. Sherlock just smiled nervously at him, immediately switching his gaze down to his shoes.
"Good luck." He muttered.
"Oh, thanks Sherlock." John muttered, and he really meant it. Sherlock's luck meant everything to him, his well wishes were definitely good omens.
"I'm going to be there, actually." Sherlock admitted.
"I thought you didn't like soccer games?" John wondered. Sherlock just laughed guiltily, as if something John had said had been funny.
"No well, no I actually don't. But you know, I'm bringing Victor, we'll make a date out of it. And I thought that I should probably go and support the team." Sherlock decided with a guilty little shrug.
"Can you even name three members of the team?" John wondered suspiciously. Sherlock blushed even more, but there was a small smile on his face. He looked somewhat flustered; as if John's paying attention to him was making him nervous, almost...flirtatious.
"Well, you, and your tall blonde friend with the name that starts with a G, and...um...another kid." Sherlock muttered.
"So you're coming to support me?" John clarified, and Sherlock couldn't help but let out a small little guilty laugh.
"Yes, I suppose that about sums it up." he decided. John smiled at him, happy to know that Sherlock cared, even though he was intending to drag his boyfriend along in the mix.
"Well, thank you Sherlock, that actually means a lot." John assured with a smile. Sherlock smiled back nervously, and bid John a very small farewell before racing along to his next class, as if he didn't want to be stuck in John's gaze any longer. Maybe John scared him a little bit, or maybe he was guilty. Maybe he didn't like being around John because he did in fact like being around him, and that made him worry that victor would somehow dissect his mind and find out. Then again, Victor did know, he knew everything that went on between John and Sherlock. If only Sherlock knew who he was really talking to. 

 That afternoon was one of the most stressful dress up parties John has ever attended. Thankfully Mary brought her A game, and all John had to do was follow her instructions and he could successfully change from Victor to John in seconds. He was wearing his soccer uniform, shin guards, and socks all tucked underneath a pair of rather baggy sweatpants (free of any telltale markings) and a plain baggy hoody. They fitted the wig carefully over his hair but they excluded the bobby pins and hair net so that taking it off in the back of the bathroom would be only too easy. He could just change his shoes and he'll be set, it was almost too perfect. Of course this whole getup was rather hot, and before long John was fanning himself with his hand, sitting on the bed and looking out the window hatefully. This was too complicated, honestly what was he thinking? He was so nervous about this game, it was all he wanted to focus on, and yet he had just thrown himself at Sherlock without any second thought. It was as if when Sherlock was available nothing else mattered, not soccer, or Mary, or his friends, or his family. Sherlock was Sherlock, and Sherlock was his universe.