Sherlock Oneshots (Mystrade/Johnlock/Mormor)

Highschool Pt 2 - Johnlock

Sherlock's P.O.V

John's conversation with me slowly became less awkward as it went along. I even cracked a few jokes, which I never did. 

John smiled, rolling her eyes. I hadn't really been close enough to him to notice just how striking her eyes truly were. To the naked eye, they were a simple, soft blue. I looked closer. There were flecks of yellow in his eyes, like a sprinkle of gold flakes in a blue diamond. It was as if his eyes had freckles made of sunlight. His pupils were bigger than normal, taking up more than half of each iris. Rimming the edge of his above-average pupils was a vibrant jade. I'd never noticed it before, and I guessed that no one ever had. 

***

We need to take more care to look closer. Look out for those unique colours and shapes that you wouldn't notice otherwise. We miss so much so often because we consider these things to be unimportant. Simple things like that are the most beautiful, and it breaks my heart that most people don't seem to care. People don't actually care about a lot of things. Those stunning colours are fading. Most don't take much notice.

***

"Have you eaten yet?" 

"Um, no. I..." I opened my decade-old Ninja Turtle lunchbox and pulled out a bottle of lactose-free milk and an apple that was slowly turning into a home for worms. Mother hated going shopping because it involved moving, and I couldn't always take a few hours out of my afternoon to shop. I did need to study, even though I was the king of procrastination.

"That doesn't look good." John examined my sad 'lunch'. "Is that all you have?"

"Yeah. I haven't been to the shops in a few weeks and most of the shit in my mother's fridge is disgusting." Or 5 years out of date.

John's eyes brightened with soft laughter. "I usually bring something more exciting than ham, but do you want to go to the canteen?"

"I don't have any money on me. I spent my last couple pounds on a new stapler." My god, I couldn't've sounded duller if I tried.

"That's alright. I got paid yesterday."He put his things away and took a few pounds out of the back of his phone. He handed them to me. I took them reluctantly. I didn't like taking money from people, but John was offering so nicely, and I was sure that John Watson wasn't about to take no for an answer.

"Thank you." I tried my best to smile like a normal person, but I wasn't sure if I should show my teeth or not, so I just smiled like a frog with my mouth closed and briskly walked out of the art room. John followed close behind as we walked down the hallway in silence.

I looked over my shoulder and realised that people were staring at us. Maybe it was because we were an unlikely pair. Maybe it was because of our startling height difference. Maybe it was because we were two known queer boys who just walked out of a classroom alone. Probably a combination of all three.

I glanced at John a few too many times as we made our way to the canteen. I couldn't really help it. His warm, pink skin shone in the afternoon sunlight. The soft glow covered him like a thin throw blanket. It was a very comforting sight, and just having him beside me made me feel relaxed. But, whenever he looked up at me, my heart did a triple summersault off a broken diving board, and I couldn't think properly for at least a few seconds. I wasn't really sure what power he held over me, but it was just as scary as it was enthralling.

We hopped in the canteen line, which had dwindled a little by then, as it was only a few minutes until the bell. John and I were squashed together in between the bar on either side of the winding queue. His shoulder pushed into my side, and I kept looking down to make sure I hadn't lost him every time I took a step forward. I felt like we were in the mosh pit of the world's most uneventful rock concert.

John grabbed the strap of my backpack and tugged on it, letting me know he was still beside me. I felt so silly, imagining that the most perfect boy I'd ever met would ever like me, even in a friendly capacity. But, when he grabbed my backpack, I thought about our conversation in the art room. Maybe we could be friends. I hoped we would. I needed at least one good friend, and I knew John did too. I just wasn't sure if he wanted that friend to be me. 

Let me know if you'd want a part 3

-grey :)