A Study At Bullimore

20

In History, they were beginning to plan for their next essay exam, after they had ran through the mark scheme for the essay's. John had at least 20 different plans and did not see how this was beneficial, but quietly did the work none the less. Sherlock was not in the lesson, which did not surprise John. His brain was too tired to worry and simply fixated his thoughts on revision.
"Sir," John said quietly as Dr Grayson walked past where he say. "I have a note from Dr Smitham." His tutor looked down at John's desk, taking the note out of his hands. John had thought about opening and reading the contents himself, but knew that if bad news were written on the slip, he would feel worse. Dr Grayson opened it immediately, and John tried to study his face to determine what was enclosed. Only moments after he had walked away, he saw Sherlock walk through the door through his periphery. He apologised under his breathe to Dr Grayson, who looked up from the note in his hand.
"See me before you leave, please Sherlock." He said, shaking the note. John saw Sherlock scan his hand and shake his head, knowing its contents. They met eyes as Sherlock moved to sit down, John clearing his throat to break the tension.

"You need to work in pairs, so I expect the plan submissions by next Friday. There should be 10 in total, so 1 covering each unit we have read so far. You have the rest of the and my office hours. Any problems, please ask." Dr Grayson said from the front of the classroom. "It is imperative that you do well in these essays as it will influence your graduation mark." There was the nodding of heads from the rest of the students as a low hum of conversation began. John slipped his textbook from his bag, opening the page to the section on the security of the Tudor dynasty as Sherlock produced his notebook.

"John, I just want to say I'm sorry." Sherlock quietly murmured to John. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry I walked off, I can't imagine how awful you must have felt." John put down his highlighter and looked to Sherlock.
"Thank you for apologising." He begun. John was unsure of how to continue. "But I'm more worried about..."He trailed off, his eyes catching the inside of Sherlock's sleeve. Sherlock looked towards the front and sighed.
"Yes. Well, you shouldn't. I promise it won't happen again." Sherlock replied. John paused.
"Which part." Sherlock half smiled. John was smarter than he assumed.
"I'll try, John. I promise."

The rest of the class, they spent discussing the work, occasionally laughing at the God-awful oil paintings that were in the textbooks. It filled John with a little confidence to know that Sherlock was at least going to try. He was reminded of when Harry used to self-harm, something that was caused by his parents' divorce and looking after John. She stopped eventually, John never found out why. He pretended to never know in the first place. Sherlock seemed more complicated. John remembered the 2:1 mark on his test paper and argument they had before. Was that a reason? He tried not to dwell on it out of fear of feeling that he was somehow responsible.

At the end of the lesson, John waited outside the door for Sherlock to finish speaking to their teacher. It was a long conversation, longer than John expected, so he leant against the wall, half listening, half not.
"Well Sherlock, you know from last year that I don't mind extra tutoring if that's what you need. I have office hours for a reason."
"I'm fine." Sherlock responded. There was the scrape of a chair against the floor.
"The offer still stands. Dr Smitham agrees that you can't continue this way."
"I know he does." There was a pause and John heard Dr Grayson sigh.
"Look, Sherlock. This is going to be a difficult, very intense year. This course is hard, but you are on it for a reason. You're a smart lad, you deserve to do well. Too smart to waste your talent."
"Thank you, Dr Grayson." He heard Sherlock reply. There was the sound of his feet against the wooden floor. John closed his eyes, pretending to not have listened. It made no difference, Sherlock would know John overheard regardless, so it seemed to not matter to him.

"Alright?" John asked when Sherlock came out of the room. He continued walking and John had to jog to keep up.
"Yes." Sherlock responded simply, walking quickly down the stairs.

That evening, Sherlock and John sat at their respective desks, bent over the textbooks they had from class. John had not pressed further about Sherlock's conversation with Dr Grayson. If he wanted to talk to him about it, Sherlock would have done so. Instead, they formed friendly conversation about the previous exam (which Sherlock jokingly said was rigged in John's favour) as well as John's match the following week. Sherlock seemed to want to watch again which excited John. He didn't take Sherlock as much as a sports man, in fact John was sure he didn't even know how the game was played, so he hoped Sherlock wanted to come simply to support him.

"I've finished my section on the birth of Henry VIII." John said to Sherlock, leaning back on his chair, his back crackling loudly.
"My notes on Elizabeth of York are here." Sherlock leant back also, their heads colliding. Immediately, they both began to laugh in a mixture of pain and stupidity. "Oh God, John, are you okay?" Sherlock said after he got his breath back. He was standing by John's chair, his hand resting on the back and the other massaging his temple.
"Yeah, Sherlock I'm fine. God, we're so stupid." John chuckled, standing from his seat and walking directly into Sherlock's body, causing him to fall back. "Oh shit, Sherlock. Sorry, are you alright?" Sherlock nodded, chuckling again.
"Yes. Let's go and get some ice packs, I can already feel a bump on my head."

So, the two headed down the stairs to the kitchen. They spoke in low whispers, their hushes giggles filling the empty room.
"Here." John handed Sherlock an icepack from inside the freezer. He watched the man press it to the back of his head, chuckling lightly as he did so. "God we are ridiculous."
"Quite." Sherlock responded, sitting on the armchair nearest to the fireplace. John grabbed a pack for himself, the cold burning his fingertips, before sitting in the seat across from Sherlock. They were silent for a moment, the embers in the fireplace glowing a gentle orange. John wondered if this was a health and safety risk to have an open fire with a small grate. Nonetheless, it looked very pretty.

"John, I ought to say." Sherlock began, and John looked up at him. "When I walk out, or I do things. They're not your fault. You don't have responsibility over me. I'm sorry. You shouldn't feel as if you do and I'm sorry for putting you in these positions." John held Sherlock's eyes. He saw them soften a little. There was a knot forming in John's stomach. Sherlock knew something, or at least he figured something out about what had happened before.
"I know." John replied simply and he saw Sherlock swallow gently.
"Your friendship means a lot to me John." He said, Sherlock's sober sentiment almost knocked John sideways. "And I hate to think that you feel as if my behaviours are a consequence of your actions." John nodded, massaging his slightly melted icepack in his hands, unsure of what to say.
"Your friendship means a lot to me too, Sherlock. And I know it's not my fault it's... just difficult. Just...please be careful." He paused. "And I'd like it if you got some help." They held each other's gaze.
"I' know." Sherlock barely whispered and John nodded slowly.