And All We Need of Hell

Chapter 4

John was finding it difficult to try to approach Sherlock at school with all his rugby teammates constantly watching him. The budding relationship between the two of them had become a dark and dangerous secret. His feelings for Sherlock were beginning to intensify, and if he was afraid of other people noticing this, that was nothing compared to his fear of Sherlock taking notice of it. Strangely enough, though, it seemed to be the one thing that kid was oblivious to.

After the final bell rang on Friday, John gathered his books at his locker and made his way stealthily to the side entrance. Maybe if he snuck out unnoticed he could catch up with Sherlock on the walk home.

This plan didn't work out, however. As soon as he stepped through the doors onto the sidewalk, he heard voices coming from the courtyard.

"You want to talk shit now, freak?" Anderson was shouting. "Go on, say something clever."

Adrenaline coursed through John's veins as he ran towards the voices and peered around the corner. Tristan and Sebastian were standing on either side of Anderson who had Sherlock pinned up against the wall. Sherlock's face was slack, his eyes vacant, and he didn't move or make a sound when Anderson grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard, making the back of head smack against wall, or when Anderson punched him in the stomach.

"Oi! Leave him alone!" John yelled, rushing forward and pulling Anderson off of Sherlock. Anderson tried to push him away, but John stood his ground.

Tristan reached out and put an arm between them as John stared daggers at Anderson. "What's your problem, mate?"

"Yeah," Anderson taunted. "Why are you sticking up for this faggot?"

John swatted Tristan's arm away and spat at Anderson, "I've had enough of your narrow-minded, homophobic bullshit." He put up his fists. "Beating up a kid who's not fighting back doesn't make you a tough guy. You want a real fight? Have a go at me."

Still pressed up against the wall, Sherlock came out of his trance and saw John being ganged up on by the other three boys. Even though John was outnumbered and a head shorter than the rest, he fought with the skill and ferocity of someone who had been trained in hand-to-hand combat. He stayed low, using his small stature to his advantage as he threw hard, strategically targeted punches. It seemed that he might actually have a good chance of fighting them off, but not without incurring a few injuries, and Sherlock didn't want that to happen.

He reached into his pocket and unsheathed his razor from the piece of paper he had wrapped it in. Walking calmly into the scuffle, he grabbed a hold of Anderson and held the edge of the blade against the bridge of the other boy's nose.

"You know, Anderson, I'm currently working on an experiment with human eyeballs," Sherlock breathed menacingly. "Normally I borrow specimens from the morgue, but it would save me time to just gouge out one of yours."

Anderson wrenched himself out of Sherlock's grasp, his eyes wide with terror. "My God, you're a bloody psychopath!" He turned on his heels and ran, the other two boys following in earnest.

When Sherlock turned to see if John was alright, he found him doubled over in laughter. "That was brilliant!" John wheezed, holding a stich in his side. "Did you see Anderson's face? I think he pissed himself."

Sherlock couldn't help it. He laughed too.

Still giggling uncontrollably, the pair of them followed the sidewalk up to the road near the front entrance of the school. It was a long time before their laughter subsided, and by then they were beginning to draw near Sherlock's house. Sherlock stopped for a second to catch his breath and looked John up and down.