Just Johnlock- The Big Book of One Shots

Playing For The Wrong Team

           

Sherlock had never been an athlete; he was always the one who was picked last in any sport they chose to play in gym class. He could win dodgeball sometimes, or at least he could make it to be the last person on his team, simply because everyone on the other team forgot about him and simply didn't throw the ball at him until they had no choice. In baseball the only way anyone noticed him was when they laughed when he struck out, or when he had to go to the nurse with a nosebleed, caused by his inability to catch a ball or even put his glove up to his face to protect himself from it. In most every partner game, like badminton or tennis, Sherlock found himself either playing alone or paired with someone who very obviously didn't want to be his partner. And yet he was always very good at sports like flag football, for if he ever had the chance to run with the ball none of the other boys would dare go after his flags, simply because they were worn on a belt and hung at rather awkward spots. No boy would ever dare touch him there, simply because they thought they might contract his disease, the one that could make even the toughest of sporty boys shiver in fear. No, there was no amount of social popularity or muscle or protein powder that could protect you from being gay. And of course it was no disease, if it had been Sherlock would have taken advantage of being contagious, and that would have made his boyfriend search a lot easier. However no, he had to suffer in solitude as he searched for anyway to even trick someone into going on a date with him; there was nothing more he wanted than to at least have the opportunity to test out his apparent sexuality! It was one thing to gaze at the boys in his school, but to be around them was another thing, and to be with them well...he would need a miracle to do that. And so when it was announced that the school's wrestling team was in dire need of new members, well Sherlock could almost jump for joy. Sherlock had always known that wrestling was one of the most superb sports for being man handled by attractive and eligible bachelors, and yet the very idea of actually joining the team was a very daring feat, one of his most absurd ideas at potentially finding a date, even more absurd than that dating website he had joined a while back...oh what a mistake that had been. Now of course his presence in the wrestling room was surely going to be frowned upon, especially since everyone knew he was there for only one reason, and yet that was the beauty about laws against discrimination. Everyone knew that he wasn't there to be an athlete, even he knew it as well, and yet so long as he didn't verbally admit to having his intentions misguided then he would be allowed to partake. If they didn't let him then he would threaten them with a lawsuit, and his lawyer would certainly be able to guarantee him a snappy singlet and a place on the team if it ever came to that. Try outs were that Monday, and it would only be too easy to formulate an excuse to get his parents off of his back, at least for now. And so Sherlock had 'joined' the chess club, at least that's what his parents thought, and even that was a relief for them, for he had no other ways to interact with the people at his school. He wasn't a social butterfly, in fact he was barely even a social caterpillar, he was barely even social at all! The only words Sherlock ever got out was snappy little comments made to teachers and flirtatious words to any boys who tried to bully him, for that was the most effective way of scaring off any potential attackers. Sometimes he would talk to the girls in his class, if he had to be in some sort of group project or anything, but honestly they didn't count. Girls were almost too easy to talk to, for all you really had to do was listen as they rambled on and on about things that didn't matter to anyone. They certainly loved to talk to him; they considered him a rare specimen, the only gay kid in the class, well they all wanted to take him shopping! He never went shopping, he found it repulsive, and so he broke the stereotype at least in that aspect. In all other ways though, he was exactly how you might expect a gay boy to be. He had superb hair, the best in all the school of course, and he dressed to impress. No one had been surprised when he outed himself, and even that he did extravagantly (it had to do with some multicolored confetti). So when tryouts did finally roll around, and Sherlock strutted up to the wrestling room with his slacks and purple shirt, well let's just say his presence wasn't all together appreciated, or taken seriously. For one thing he had no athletic clothes, and so while all the boys were wearing shorts and cut off tank tops (oh what a treat!) Sherlock lingered near the wall, adjusting his collar every once and a while and fixing his hair in his pocket mirror while the coach was going on and on about responsibility and sportsmanship. All of the boys were giving Sherlock very concerned looks, almost as if they feared for their sexualities, all while he pretended not to notice. And so maybe he stuck out just a little bit, and yet he seemed to be doing something right, for he made the team after all. Not one boy could pin him, simply because not one boy would even dare try, and on day three of tryouts when Sherlock was asked to go up against poor Mike Stamford he had been able to dive at the boy's legs as he ran away, somehow taking him down and holding him to the ground while he squealed and panicked, seeming to want not to pin Sherlock but to run away and take a bath in antibacterial hand sanitizer. And so he made the team, somehow...and he seemed to be flourishing into the weakest link. First of all, he had never anticipated there be actual work that went along with playing a sport, and he had never even stepped foot in the weight room much less even considered 'lifting'. Well he did more complaining than lifting, and when it was decided that his skinny little arms couldn't even support the bar itself he was sent shamefully into a corner to do pushups and sit ups with the basketball girls, who were also trying to get fit. They seemed to like his company a lot more, and they even struck up something of a conversation about which wrestling boy was the cutest while they took their break after five solid pushups. Sherlock's arms hurt for days afterwards, and yet he felt like he might actually be acquiring some muscle. It came up to the first wrestling meet when his skills were to be tested, for he knew that every wrestler was required to go up against one boy, and it would be his first time actually wrestling anyone. They had barely taught him any moves at practice, however he knew a little bit from watching everyone else, he knew that you were supposed to go for the legs, pull at the arms, duck around and shuffle when necessary, it all looked very intimate and very exciting. The only problem here was that his secret weapon wouldn't be unleashed unless his opponent got a clear view of what he was going up against, he wouldn't know that Sherlock was gay unless he made it very, very obvious. And that was his tactic, or at least that's what he was told to do by Molly Hooper, the water girl for the team, having joined for the same reason he had. She was his only friend in that harsh environment, even the coach didn't want to look at him and yet Molly pitied him, she would sit by him on the benches and they accidently became friends. She explained to Sherlock while he watched the boys wrestle that this match today, despite being their first one of the year, was very important. The team they were playing was something of their rival, the team that everyone wanted to beat just because of old resentments and whatnot. Molly seemed to know the complete history, and yet Sherlock was rather preoccupied with watching John Watson as he went through his pre-match warm up routine, one which involved stretching and listening to loud music over earbuds, music that you could hear from five feet away despite it being played on his little headset. Sherlock had been a part of the majority in the girls' basketball team when he had claimed that John was the cutest wrestler, and it was for very obvious reasons. He was easily the most fit, the most sculpted, Sherlock loved watching him wrestle just because of all the muscles that popped out of his arms and legs when he was pinning someone to the mat, it made Sherlock's heart beat in a pattern he had not yet gotten used to. Molly was always most taken away by Greg Lestrade, another member of the wrestling team and easily one of the most talented in the school. And yet he was too loud for Sherlock's liking, too obnoxious, and much too straight. Now John Watson, Sherlock suspected he could go both ways if he decided that it was worth the identity shock. He was always the one who would try to help Sherlock, he was the one that taught him the one move he knew (on the dummy of course, for even John wouldn't dare go to the mat with Sherlock), he was even his Sherlock's spotter when he was forced to lift! He was kind, that was an aspect Sherlock most admired in him, and he was single, which was yet another good trait. It was John Watson now that was going to the mat, and if he won this the teams would be tied, four pins to four, and it would all come down to their last wrestler, the one that his team had really hoped it wouldn't come down to, the one that they had the least faith in (it was Sherlock of course). And yet he had a plan, Molly had gone over it with him hundreds of times, for she seemed to be something of a wrestling expert. Sherlock was going to intimidate the boy from the other team, not with muscles or masculinity of course...but with makeup. John won his match, not to anyone's surprise of course, for he was the most able bodied boy they had on the team, and yet his victory ensured Sherlock's opportunity, something which he knew no one really had faith for. It seemed as they were all getting ready to be disappointed when the coach very reluctantly called Sherlock from his seat, tapping his clipboard against his leg anxiously as he watched the other team provide their strongest and most intimidating boy. And the terrible thing was...he wasn't even cute. Somehow they were both in the same weight class, for as skinny as Sherlock was he was the lowest weight in his category, and so this boy seemed to be at the top of it, probably having lost some water weight prior to this match just so that he could wrestle below where he should be with all that muscle mass. Sherlock nodded the coach away, throwing off his sweatpants and strutting towards the mat in his singlet, feeling quite exposed and yet quite beautiful, for he had shaved his legs the day before and his white legs felt so nice and smooth. He knew of course that all the boys were probably in tears, not because of his overwhelming beauty of course but because of his imminent loss, and yet he knew of course that it wasn't all over yet. Hopefully he was going to wrestle a Class A homophobe, for as soon as he stepped up to make his presence known he snapped over Molly, who hastened over with a pocket mirror, a tube of the best shade of discreet lipstick, and a large smile. Sherlock seemed to be stalling the match as he stood with his hand on his hip, trying to look superbly sassy as he looked at himself in the mirror and did his lipstick with precision, no doubt making the boy on the other team shiver nervously as he realized just who he was supposed to grapple with. Obviously he was becoming apprehensive, and Sherlock only smiled as he smacked his lips and handed the lipstick back to Molly.
"How do I look then?" Sherlock wondered, pushing his curls around so as to look extra stunning, looking over towards the boy who stood looking considerably smaller in the ring, almost trembling with fear of his skinny little opponent.
"Oh absolutely beautiful." Molly assured.
"Brilliant. Now, let's go win the match shall we?" Sherlock murmured, giving his team a smirk as they all sat rather confused on their chairs, watching as he approached the circle looking stunning, of course. The referee was giving him a very odd look, and yet he was sure there was no set of rules applying to this sort of situation, simply because that would be discrimination. And who could complain, really, when he looked this amazing? The room was silent, and rightfully so, he could hear almost anything now, the nervous pumping of his opponent's heart (and he suspected it wasn't because he was infatuated) the shuffling of his team's feet on the mat off to the side, and the tapping of his coach's clipboard against his leg, following the same rhythm, the same nervous pattern... They got into the starting positions, making Sherlock feel like some sort of ninja as he stood with his arms out, ready to be super scary, and then with a sharp blast of the whistle they were off. Sherlock gave a little giggle (all part of the show of course) as the boy advanced, and as if on cue he drew back in disgust, looking at his coach apprehensively all while his team cheered him on. Certainly they didn't see much of a threat, since Sherlock was skinny as a stick and wearing lipstick, however they weren't the ones that had to wrestle him, were they? And so what did they care? Well it didn't take long, of course, for Sherlock to finally use one of the moves he had learned on his apprehensive opponent. There was no fancy flipping or true combat, all he did was go for the legs and the poor boy, much too terrified to do much of anything, went down without so much as a struggle. Sherlock got up on top of him, pulling at his arms like he saw John do with his opponent, and pinning down his legs with his own, suddenly he heard the whistle above the poor boy's frantic whimpering, he heard his team cheering, they all jumped out of their chairs in celebration for he had actually accomplished something, didn't he? It would seem that in some ironic way he had won the match for them, and all he had to do was look fabulous!
"Molly look, maybe I am a top after all!" Sherlock called out to her while he still had the poor boy pinned down, even after the whistle had gone off. With that his opponent gave a yelp and slid out from underneath him, scrambling away to his team, all completely amazed and partially disgusted at the scene that had played out before them. Sherlock's team jumped to congratulate him, oh those boys were totally appreciative, and somewhat crazed with excitement, for they lined up to congratulate him, all cheering and yelling and carrying on. It really was a horrible display of masculinity, all of them with their muscles and their singlets and whatnot, and yet each one of them left the mat with a smudge of naturally colored lipstick on their cheeks, all but one of course, John Watson got his share of lipstick where it was meant to be, right on the lips. And not to Sherlock's surprise, he seemed perfectly okay with that.