Like a Fairytale

Early Bird Gets the John

He had fallen asleep to that thought, of course, and now it had poisoned his dreams, poisoned with a sort of magic really, it wasn't like he was complaining about dreaming of John.
Sherlock was walking through the garden, through the hedges and rosebushes, his graduation robe dragging in the pebbles beneath him and his hat and diploma tucked carelessly under his arm. He had already done the typical congratulations, but now the families were taking pictures, as if Sherlock had any friends to take pictures with.
"Hey, Sherlock, where are you going?" called out a voice, and the sound of approaching footsteps stopped Sherlock in his tracks. Of course it was John, his hat still on, however crooked, and the ghost of a large smile still present on his face. "You're missing the pictures." He pointed out.
"So are you." Sherlock defended.
"Oh don't be like that, it's your last day to suffer with these people, isn't that exciting?" John laughed. Sherlock kept walking, deeper into the maze of bushes and roses with no intention of going back.
"The sooner the better, it's not like I'll miss the lot of them." He shrugged.
"You'll miss some of them though right, as much as you hated them wasn't it the highlight of your day to get beaten up?" John teased, obviously as a joke. Sherlock took a deep breath; obviously this was his time, the last and only time, to come clean. But how to start?
"It wasn't all that bad I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"See, I knew it." John laughed; obviously still thinking this was all a joke. His hazel eyes were shadowed with his hat, but they still seemed to shine brighter than the sun they were being shielded from.
"Will I ever see you again?" Sherlock asked, his cheeks immediately going a new shade of scarlet. John looked up at him, maybe slightly sympathetic, but also a bit sad.
"I don't know, with the business I suppose we'll..."
"I'm leaving. I'm not staying with that stupid corporation." Sherlock said quickly, cutting him off.
"Then I guess not." John shrugged. Sherlock sighed with realization, John was right, this might be the last time he ever saw that annoyingly attractive face. His heart was screaming at him to just go for it, what was the worst that could happen, but his brain was shutting down with terror. "Well I guess it's not that bad, I won't have the temptation to beat the rubbish out of our little freak." John shrugged. They kept walking, deeper into the maze of bushes, Sherlock only hoped they would get out if he had to die of embarrassment.
"Well uh, John, I suppose I should tell you something." he decided, almost immediately regretting saying it. John didn't seem too fazed though, he just looked up to show that he was listening.
"I uh, ilozevu." Sherlock spat out the last words, jumbling together in a huge car crash of words. John looked momentarily confused, smiling up at him still.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked.
"Oh god, just, I, uh, may or may not be, well, in love with you." Sherlock said, his stomach taking a mad twist. John stopped walking, his face completely shocked, but somehow amused, as if he had known that was coming. He walked forward slightly; Sherlock's heart pounding ever so heavily and his cheeks glowing with embarrassment. This was the time that John laughed, spat in his face and pushed him into a bush. But he leaned forward, his smile wavering, closer and closer, but then the oddest thing, he started to lick Sherlock's forehead, what an odd way of showing compassion...
Sherlock's eyes opened to his still dark bedroom, Redbeard was back on the bed, licking the now beading sweat from Sherlock's forehead. Sherlock was sprawled out all over the bed, clutching his pillow to his chest; the dog was only hanging onto the very edge of the mattress.
"Get off Redbeard!" Sherlock growled, swatting the dog away and scowling. Once again even in his dreams he couldn't experience the beauty of kissing John, but that could mean two things. One, the universe is saving it, so that if the real thing happens Sherlock would probably have a heart attack. Two, because he was never and could never admit his feelings and will forever be a face in the background for John, which was pretty much the worst torture he could think of. Obviously that dream wouldn't be how it goes down, he'd probably stamper and blush and have a mini seizure, and he'd probably just have to write it on a chalk board so he actually didn't have to tell him. What would John's reaction be to his telling him? Would he slap him and scream and make a big fuss, would he laugh it off, or would he actually do what he had in the dream, just plain kiss him. Of course he wouldn't do that, it was real life, not some stupid dream that doesn't even have an outcome. He stayed up the remainder of the night, staring at the ceiling and imagining every impossible outcome. When the clock finally read six o'clock Sherlock rolled out of bed, pulling on his clothes and straightening himself out so that he didn't have dog breath all over his face. When finally he looked tutor ready he went down stairs, grabbing an apple once again and sitting on the counter. Mrs. Hudson, of course, was in the kitchen, still making their lunches and wrapping up the remainder of the sandwiches.
"How'd you sleep dear?" she asked.
"Fine." Sherlock grumbled. What a lie that was, but he'd never actually tell her the truth.
"That's good. It's getting chilly out there, you'll be needing that coat of yours soon." She pointed out as she packed three cans of soda in the bags, zipping them all shut and smiling up at him proudly.
"Can't be too soon." Sherlock agreed.
"You look very nice today, as you have for the last couple of days, are you trying to impress someone?" she asked, a knowing smile on her face. Sherlock felt himself blushing, but he scowled.
"No one but myself, this is how I always look." He snapped.
"Well you look very nice, and I'm sure any girl would be lucky to have you." She insisted. Sure, girl, good job Mrs. Hudson, you figured it all out. Thankfully Sherlock was now finished with his apple, accidently biting into the core and having to spit out seeds into the sink, throwing it out with a small curse that made Mrs. Hudson swat him with a dish towel.
"See you after school." Sherlock muttered.
"I'll tell them you left." Mrs. Hudson agreed. Sherlock grabbed his bag, walking out the front door and taking a deep breath of fall air. Of course it was congested with smog, but it still smelled a little bit like fall he supposed. Sherlock walked down the sidewalk, past the pedestrians and business men walking down the street. Some he recognized from his family's company, they tipped their hats but he just scowled, and some he saw wearing little Watson Industries badges, who just scowled right back. He stopped to get his coffee as usual, sipping as he went and approaching the school. There were still kids everywhere in the front, like a spreading parasite, but the most he got was comments and insults, which just bounced right off of him. Sherlock threw the cup away and went to his locker, stuffing his things in hastily and getting out his English book for first period. English was a wasted class in his opinion, once you learn to read that's all you need, you don't need to analyze stories or use grammar now that there were computers, but people stick with tradition of course. In all reality all the subjects in this school were useless to him, just review for the things he had already taught himself. Once again first, second, and lunch crept by since now he really looked forward to third period, the one period he could actually enjoy with John. By the time the bell rang he was already at the door, waiting for Mrs. Pines to open it.
"Well you're here early." She pointed out, making Sherlock frown.
"Should I not be?" he asked.
"I don't mind." She assured. Sherlock went inside, dropping his bag on his desk and sitting in the chair, pulling out all of his books and papers for a new class period. He took out his papers, organizing them neatly on the desk, setting his pencil in the little groove in the front, getting all organized and proper. He spent about three minutes waiting for anyone to walk in, tapping his foot and looking at the front board, feeling an awkward silence in the air, as if Mrs. Pines was on the verge of starting a conversation. Of course that couldn't happen, so when the door opened and a couple of girls walked in it was quite a relief. After them there started to be a rush of students, all full from lunch and undoubtedly not in the mood for lunch.
"I owe you a huge thanks." said a voice next to him, making Sherlock jump so badly he almost fell out of his chair. "What's wrong with you?" John laughed as Sherlock straightened back up.
"Nothing, nothing what did I do now? Other than boost your math grade and giving you a running punching bag." Sherlock added.
"Mary loved the flowers, said, and I quote you are the most romantic boyfriend a girl could hope for." John said with a smile, dropping his voice to a lower tone. Sherlock smiled and blushed a little bit, he didn't want to alarm John, but not only girls wanted him as their boyfriend.
"Well, I guess I'm a romantic then." Sherlock muttered, feeling awfully stupid to tell that to his one and only crush, but John only laughed.
"Don't go after Mary now or I'll have your head on a spike." He decided, joking of course, but Sherlock thought that he would get a little bit violent. As if the thought ever crossed Sherlock's mind, it wasn't Mary he was after in that relationship.

"Well don't worry about that." Sherlock assured quietly, but he didn't think John heard him because he was now talking to Greg, who was sitting on the other side of the room. The class started out slow, they were only doing reviews now, in preparation for a test that was coming up. Maybe Sherlock should work with John more on the topics they were focusing on now, instead of review. It would be a weekend thing, right now John was to know all the stuff they had been reviewing from the previous week. It was hard to think that it hadn't even been a week, only three days now, although it felt like a lifetime, and every time Sherlock walked away from that park he knew he was spiraling more and more into a pit of hopeless love. Mrs. Pines then proceeded to hand out a simple review sheet, just so they know the topics they had been studying. This took Sherlock a little bit longer since there were more pages, but he was done in time to peer over John's shoulder at his work, making sure he was on the right track. Occasionally John would look back at him for reassuring purposes, and Sherlock gave him a shy encouraging smile. Most of the work was on track, few were correct but they were due to stupid errors, like negative numbers and fractions, and there were of course the few problems that were absolute train wrecks. In the end John worked right up to the bell, something unheard of, all the other students finished ten minutes earlier even though they weren't half way through with the work, and all they did was talk very loudly. Greg and Mary tried to get John's attention from across the room, but Sherlock glared at them sternly enough for them to back off, looking rather disappointed. When the bell rang it was a stampede out of the door, leaving John still packing his things and Sherlock standing rather awkwardly near the door, not wanting to leave John by himself. When finally John was packed up he rushed out the door, leaving Sherlock in the dust and running to rejoin his friends. Sherlock sighed, had John not noticed his good intentions? Once again he walked alone to history, almost late for once, and sat down next to Anderson in a gloomy sort of mood. But of course John would ditch him, it's not like they were friends, and if he were in John's place of course he would walk with his friends, not with some nasty freak. Because in reality that was all he was, at least in John's mind at least.

"Freak are you even listening?" Anderson growled in the middle of their worksheets, making Sherlock, who was on his last question, look up in annoyance.

"What can't remember your name again?" he snapped, but instead Anderson just glared and John was hanging over his desk so that he could see Sherlock.

"What did you get for three?" he called, kind of loudly, but the very gesture of asking for help without mentioning the word Freak was a plus.

"You're only on three?" Sherlock asked, but he told him the answer in the end. To Sherlock's humor half the room flipped their pencils and erased madly at their answer, obviously having got it wrong. For the rest of the class he read a book, half happy and half completely somber. He'd think of their conversations in math class and after school and a smile would come on his face, but then he'd remember that John had clapped as he was getting beaten and blew him off in the hallway and the frown would return. It only made him wonder what on Earth John would do if he actually told him, but he'd leave that up to fate. He would probably never know, and in some aspects that was a good thing, but it was also bad for Sherlock's tiny heart, aching for only one thing... The bell rang loudly and everyone scrambled for the door, John included, leaving Sherlock yet again to fumble with his bag and walk down to the pitch alone.