As it Should Be (Johnlock/Teenlock)

Chapter Six

(A/N)
Yay fluff! Sorry it's short, I needed to write this, awh, my babies<3
NINETY FOUR READS! WHAT? :D

John's P.O.V.

I knew not to disturb Sherlock on the journey back to the school, his hands were in a prayer-like position underneath his chin, eyebrows furrowed. He must have been concentrating hard. I looked out of the window at the London streets flying past, a fast blur of grey, red, yellow, black, orange. If you squinted, it could be considered beautiful. The red-orange sky bloomed behind tall, ugly buildings, the grey parting and evaporating, revealing the sun just touching the horizon. We'd been out for hours; I hadn't noticed.
Sherlock rose from his hunched position, opening his eyes. The colours of the sky filled the grey, turning it silver, pink, the sun setting into his pupils. I realised a moment later that I needed to blink, and breathe, for that matter, but at the time, if have been more than happy to never breathe again if it meant I could stay there forever. I closed my eyes to clear my thoughts, and when I opened them, my roommate was leant slightly towards me, his eyes thoughtful and wondering.
I coughed, but I wished I hadn't, he seemed to remember himself, and jerked back, staring out of his window. I made no attempt at conversation, and neither did he.
I had to pay the cabbie yet again, which was unfair, because this time, he didn't have a case on his mind, any distraction. He had no excuse to storm into the school, one hand tousling his hair, one stuck in his pocket, his eyes dreamy and unfocused.

Sherlock P.O.V.

I was distracted as the warmth of the school welcomed me, as I left John paying for our ride, as I brushed past the giggling girls, the boisterous gangs of boys pretending to be confident. I hardly noticed the strain on my legs climbing the stairs, the cold wind of the left open windows. My head was foggy and confused, my mind palace unreachable. I opened the door, stumbled into the bathroom with the book I hadn't been able to forget, and locked the door behind me. I sat down beneath the sink, and thought. Thought as an ordinary human would, I didn't close my eyes, except to blink. I didn't attempt to enter my mind palace, I didn't ponder unanswerable questions, I just let thoughts flow into my mind; it was filled with a haze the same vibrant blue as the cover of the book I'd brought in, the beautiful, warm, mesmerising, divine sapphire colour that I couldn't quite call a 'colour', although I didn't know why.
I entered my mind palace then, parting the mist with my hands, climbing up to the gleaming towers piled with knowledge and falling down to dungeons filled with secrets. I searched for colours, I invented new ones. I stored them in paint pots lined up on a shelf, in rainbows, scales, crescendos of colour, from a faint pink to a flamboyant rouge. An obscure olive to an psychedelic emerald.
I was brought to reality by John, pounding on the door with his fist. I sighed and stood up from my cramped position, unlocking the door and opening it, dodging John's hand as it flew past me, accustomed to knocking.
I walked past him, taking his laptop from underneath his arm.
"Hey!" He held out his hand for his laptop back, but I'd already opened it.
"Good luck with that, it's password protected!" I'd already guessed it. I showed him the screen, and watched as his jaw dropped slightly.
"Maybe you should change it to something less obvious." His sister's birthday mixed with his first pet's name and his favourite number didn't exactly make it Fort Knox.
His web browser opened up to reveal a blog, his blog. I made a mental note of the web address and opened a new tab, searching up Rory Majartimes. The first page was a Wikipedia article of him, his recently deceased 'wife' and their non-existent 'child'. I looked at how recently the pages were made. This morning....just before Majartimes visited. I pressed print screen, copied the images into an email, and sent them to Lestrade. I then closed the tab and handed John's laptop back to him, lying down on my bed to ponder. I lifted my hands to underneath my chin subconsciously, but before I could tune out, John's voice pierced my concentration. I opened my eyes.
"Did you....read...the.." He trailed off.
"Your blog?" He nodded, embarrassed.
"No." I closed my eyes again, but I couldn't resume my state of mind. I sat up, pacing around the room restlessly.
"John?"
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"I'm bored. I can't get to my mind palace."
"Your what?" He looked me in the eyes.
"It's where I keep everything. It's like a mental record of everything I see, hear, touch, smell. I built the location on a castle I went to visit once with my parents. I have rooms for certain things, or groups of people. I go there when I'm bored, but I can't get there." Why was I even bothering to explain this? Oh yeah. Because John was different. I knew he wouldn't laugh at me, or insult me. It was because I'd already let my guard down. I trusted him.
"Why not?"
"I...don't know, my head's all foggy...I can't deduce anything..." I frowned.
John closed the lid of his laptop. Suddenly it was like he'd cut off the smoke machine. My head cleared, and my deductions flashed before my eyes.

Interested in what you're saying
Hasn't called home
Overheating

"John, would you like me to turn the heating down?" I smiled teasingly.

"Please." He returned my smile. We spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, with the occasional bit of small talk, and for the first time in forever, I felt content.

Stay prettiful xo