Sherlocks pov
As I walk into Mr. Burnes' class I cannot concentrate. I keep thinking of John and how beautiful he is. How just looking at him makes me fall apart. "Sherlock! Sherlock Holmes!" As I hear Mr Burnes yell my name I look up, embarrassed. "Perhaps you would like to participate in our discussion?" My face goes red. "Oh um.. Yes sir sorry I had a... Wild night last night" I look over at John with a smirk. He's in all my classes and that's how we know each other's schedule. I know his weakest and strongest abilities when it comes to school. Emotionally I know nothing.
Johns pov
I knew what that smirk was about from Sherlock in class. And I'll be damned if I wasn't going to kiss him and hold him tonight. I loved him very much but we aren't that serious yet. I think.
Three weeks later
(Still Johns Pov)
Me and Sherlock have been going steady for a while. But after all the kissing and sex, we haven't said those words. "I love you." I want to say it but every time I attempt it, I just get so nervous. I feel as if no one could ever love me.
Sherlock's pov
"Babe, where is my purple shirt? The one I wore when we first met. The one that turned you on a little?" He was lying down at that moment and I could see he was embarrassed that I knew. "I think its on the counter in the bathroom." He sounded upset. And not because of what I said either. Deeply upset. I walk over to him completely forgetting the shirt. "Babe what is wrong? Is it because of me?" He started crying and lied his head on my lap, crying uncontrollably. "My father. He just... Disowned me and c-called me a piece of shit.." I am completely infuriated by this. What kind of sick, twisted bastard would do this? "Babe.. Babe shh its ok. Take a sick day darling, I'll explain to the teachers. I love you very much lovely." And with that I run my fingers through his hair, kiss him goodbye and painfully leave him alone with his favorite movie on my laptop.
Johns pov
Sherlock said it. He said those words. The ones I've been longing for all this time and he said them. I sit here with his laptop watching my favorite movie and a glass of water. Those words distract me from paying attention. They are on repeat and suddenly I begin to cry again. But not because of sadness, because of joy. Because me, John Hamish Watson, is lucky enough to have Sherlock Holmes in my life. And with that thought in my head, I drift off too sleep.
