Nothing Like Love and Everything Like a Phoenix

Chapter Five

John was tired. He felt it in every fiber of his being, every breath he took, every time he moved. When he looked in the mirror he could see it in his skin, in his veins. He considered staying home just to get an extra hour of sleep. He could probably get away with it.

Sherlock drained him in a way that no one else had, and in a way he didn't notice until he had left, which was long after they made shapes on the ceiling. Sherlock kept John up practically all night, asking him questions about everything. Everything John had an opinion about and a lot of things he didn't. Sherlock was easily the most curious person John ever met.

In the brief moments that Sherlock was quiet, John wasn't even annoyed at how much Sherlock had been talking. Actually, it felt kind of nice to have someone ask him all that, because Sherlock was actually interested (or at least it seemed) in John's answers.

Sherlock snuck out of the window when he had finally decided it was time to go home, his hair practically a nest, and his shirt in a fashion that no well intending mother would ever allow. He asked John if he would let him in again, but John didn't know.

On one hand he felt terrible for not automatically saying yes. Of course he wanted Sherlock back, all the time, everyday, but on the other hand he knew that at this point it didn't matter what answer he gave. He could feel his resolve slipping like a mudslide, or an out of control spark, burning every "no" in his mind.

At school, Molly wouldn't leave him alone.

"People say Sherlock showed up at your house and they never saw him leave."

"People say that you two were doing something illegal."

"People say that you two actually did something."

"People say th-"

"Damn what people say!" John threw his hands in the air, the thin crowd in homeroom all turning to stare at him.

"I don't care what people say. None of it is true." He hissed through his teeth.

"But, John. First it's gonna be people just saying it, but then it's gonna be people believing it. It won't matter whether or not it's true."

John kicked at the shiny floor, "It'll matter to me."

Molly pursed her lips, and John wondered how long it would take for her to get wrinkles.

--

John couldn't walk two feet without stares or whispered questions for the entire day. He had a headache since his first class, and his eyes stung beyond belief. He gave up trying to pay attention in classes and just hoped that he looked awake.

By the time he got home he was dead on his feet. He felt like he would never be truly awake again, his whole life from now on would be blurred and fuzzy. He walked up the stairs with his eyes half closed, not even caring that his sister actually looked in his direction as she made her way out the door.