"Until we find our way in the dark and out of harm,
You can run away with me anytime you want."
- Summertime
My Chemical Romance
Through the dark stillness of my bedroom, my phone beside me, which, thank every God I didn't currently believe in, was on silent, vibrated on my beside table, effortlessly illuminating the room around me. I reached over to grab it sleepily, checking the name before answering, you know, just to make sure it wasn't the police or some shit like that. Not that the police would have any reason to call me, obviously...
Anyway, it would be more likely that the person on the other end of the phone was a salesperson from some exotic country I'd never heard of trying to sell me compensation or something else I really did not give the slightest fuck about, especially not at like 4 in the morning. I wasn't the most sociable person in the first place, let alone whilst I was half asleep.
Needless to say that the person on the other end of the phone was not, in fact, either of the above.
"Sherlock?" I asked croakily, the lack of sleep evident in my voice. Yes, I still hadn't been sleeping. Sherlock bloody Holmes did not turn up out of the blue and cure that, because that's not how life works. He didn't come along, kiss me and then suddenly 'oh would you look at that? I've magically been cured of my depression!' because that's honestly just fucking stupid.
His voice was soothing, monotone with just the right level of concern, "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"No," I yawned, ruining my point entirely.
The line fell dead for a moment and I made the executive decision to wait it out. Sherlock had called me in the first place.
"I know it's early but..." he paused, searching for the correct words to use, "You did give me your number..."
"It's okay, I thought you might call." A quick glance over to the red digits on the clock beside me confirmed my belief that it was well past midnight, "Although, I didn't think you'd call at half 2 in the morning."
"Sorry," Sherlock sighed, the worry in his voice clear once again, this sending me into a state of panic. Had I seriously upset him already?
I made a mental note to tread carefully in order to not make it worse.
Peering through the thin gap in the curtains, my tired eyes were met by almost complete darkness. It was raining again, not that that was a particular surprise considering the fact that I did live in England and it was winter. The raindrops splattered rhythmically against the window, desperately clinging to the pane of glass that separated me from the rest of the world, carefully lit by the orange glow of the streetlights. It was atmospheric, sure, but it was also incredibly, indescribably annoying. I mean, would it really kill the UK to, you know, let the sun appear every once in a while?
Lost in thought, I barely heard the shuffling of papers on the other end of the phone.
"Why are you still awake?" I asked, my question not particularly to Sherlock anymore, but to the moon, the rain, the walls, perhaps even to myself.
He sighed.
"I'm still planning lessons for tomorrow." Of course he's planning lessons because he's a teacher. That's what teachers do. It's literally their job. I really needed to stop forgetting the illegal side of this relationship. He paused for a moment - possibly yawning, possibly sighing - before continuing, "I really should not be a teacher, Jim. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
YOU ARE READING
Consequences of Flirting (Teacher x Student)
FanfictionJim Moriarty is in his last year of high school. He'd managed to get this far with minimal drama, largely due to the fact that he had no friends. This meant that he had no one around to tell him that flirting had consequences. Especially when it was...
