Methods Beyond Magic

Telling Secrets I Didn't Know I Had

Sherlock started down the hallway for a moment before stopping himself at the staircase, debating whether to go up to his room, or down to a certain caretaker's, to apologize. It's been a good week since Sherlock had seen John's face, and it would be kind of reassuring to know that he was alive and well, rather than hiding in his room and crying to himself. Sherlock hated to think that, but didn't really fancy seeing John's reaction to him going to say hello. Then again, Sherlock really wanted to clear the air, to make sure John knew this was all Victor, setting him up to get him out of the way. So with that Sherlock scampered down the stairs, happy he didn't see any students, Victor or not, on his way down. The hallway was just as empty when he walked down to the stature of Boris the Bewildered, and honestly Sherlock could relate very much to the quirky statue. The door was still there, as if Sherlock had expected it to move or something, but he was very reluctant to knock on it. There was a strong possibility that John would either ignore him all together or attack him like he had Victor. Then again, Sherlock had traveled all the way down here, not just to lose heart right at the door, so with a deep breath, he knocked. For a moment there was silence, then John called, "Coming!" and there were loud, struggling footsteps, as if he had just crawled out of bed once more. The door opened and Sherlock saw John's hazel eyes peeking through the door, just for a moment, before there was a small gasp and he started to shut the door. Thankfully Sherlock's reflexes were quick, not so thankfully though, John slammed the door rather hard, and his poor foot was nearly broken in the impact.
"John, I need to talk to you!" Sherlock insisted.
"I don't want to talk to you." John growled, hiding behind the door and slamming it even more painfully on Sherlock's foot.
"No, honestly, you know that Victor's playing with you, he made it sound a lot worse than it was..." Sherlock insisted, prying the door open a little bit more and sliding his torso into the room. John looked a bit...terrible, to be honest. He was already changed back into his pajamas, his hair was a mess, and he had dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't been sleeping properly.
"Get out of here Sherlock!" he insisted, trying to slam the door again, but now with Sherlock half inside the room, he didn't seem too willing to sever the poor man in half.
"Give me a chance, you've got it wrong." Sherlock pleaded, dragging the rest of himself into the room and letting the door close behind him.
"Oh, yes, sorry, because I assume I must've accidentally told Victor what I was?" John snapped, crossing his arms and looking downright venomous.
"Yes! I mean, no, but yes at the same time." Sherlock muttered, wringing his hands together nervously and staring at John very apologetically. "I got the idea from him, he sort of...followed you, one day, at least that's what he claims, and he told me that he thought you were a squib, and I wasn't going to ask you about it, but it kind of just came up, and you seemed alright with the idea that I knew and I didn't want you to know that Victor knew because I know how you don't like him and I never confirmed anything he just kind of had a hunch." Sherlock said, all in one breath as if to get all of the information out as soon as possible. John softened a little bit, just a little bit, enough for Sherlock to be sure that he wasn't going to bite his head off.
"So, you didn't tell him?" John asked.
"No, I never would've, it's your secret to tell." Sherlock insisted.
"Secrets, what do you know about secrets?" John snapped, turning away and busying himself with stacking papers on his desk.
"Well, I mean, I'm better at them than you think." Sherlock decided with a shrug, thinking about everything that has been happening and how clueless John was to the lot of it.
"Alright, try me." he decided.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked, taken quite taken aback. John looked up, looking rather determined.
"You say you know stuff about secrets, I assume you've got some then. I told you mine, your turn." John decided.
"They're secret for a reason!" Sherlock defended. John just glared at him, but Sherlock sighed, thinking of something, anything really, that could suffice without getting himself killed by Victor.
"Alright, fine." Sherlock decided. "I'm gay." John's eyes widened, if only for a moment, before he forced them to go back to normal, as if pretending that didn't affect him at all. Sherlock shrugged, deciding that he ought to stop pretending to himself and to John that he had no idea what his true sexuality was. He spent his days and nights kissing Victor, and he spent all the rest of his time thinking about John, honestly this wasn't 20 questions anymore, and as soon as Sherlock got it off of his chest, it felt more true than it ever had.
"You're gay?" John clarified.
"Yes, I just said that." Sherlock agreed, not even feeling awkward at all. In fact, he was kind of happy to see John as awkward as he was, knowing what he did about John's desires. "A secret."
"Alright, that's alright." John agreed, tapping his fingers sort of awkwardly on the desk. "Alright." He repeated.
"Does that bother you?" Sherlock asked.
"No, course it...no." John assured, avoiding eye contact. Sherlock could hear that hope in his voice, the small, desperate part of him, the one that projected itself in the mirror, rocking back and forth in anticipation.
"Good." Sherlock agreed.
"So, you mean, you're like, into guys?" John asked. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at his awkwardness.
"Well, last time I checked, gay didn't mean anything else. I mean, I suppose you could say my big secret was that I was happy, but that doesn't really make sense. I can't be gay if you're not gay. As in happy, not... I think I should shut up now." Sherlock decided. John just laughed, the first laugh he had heard from that man in a long time, like a breath of fresh air.
"Well, now I suppose we both know a little something about each other. Then again, I'm not going to tell Victor, unless, of course, he already knows." John decided.
"First of all, no, and second of all, I never told Victor anything, I kept your secret and I expect you to keep mine." Sherlock snapped.
"I will, course I will." John assured. "So Victor doesn't know then? He hasn't been, an accomplice?"
"No John, never that's absurd." Sherlock snapped.
"Who is then?" John asked, raising his eyebrows and looking like a curious little puppy.
"Who am I, seeing?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes." John agreed. Sherlock thought to Victor, but shook his head.
"No one." he decided confidently.
"Oh, okay, I rather thought...okay." John decided.
"You thought a nerd like me would get a boyfriend?" Sherlock laughed, kind of embarrassed, knowing where he must be going with this. John was beating around the bush here; he might even go for the kill...
"Well, I mean, there are probably a lot of people out there, looking for someone that fits your description, I mean, I'm sure it's not every day when a gay man finds someone so attractive." John shrugged.
"Ooh, you think I'm attractive do you?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"I'm not blind!" John defended.
"Well, I'm flattered, but no, no one's asked me out." Sherlock decided.
"That's good." John nodded. "I mean, you know, not good good, just good." He corrected.
"Ah yes, my mistake." Sherlock agreed with a small smile.
"It's kind of...late." John decided, looking at the clock rather anxiously, as if his brain was racing faster than his heart. Sherlock looked at the clock, not even nine yet, but nodded.
"I suppose so." he agreed.
"Maybe you should..." John muttered.
"Leave?" Sherlock suggested, finishing the sentence for him.
"Ya." John agreed.
"Is all forgiven?" Sherlock asked.
"Alright. I mean, yes." He agreed. "Yes, it is."
"Good. I don't want any bad feelings between us; you're the only friend I've got." Sherlock decided.
"Victor?" John pointed out.
"Is a nuisance, someone I'd rather not have hanging around anymore. Not after what he did to you." Sherlock decided.
"Nice to know you care." John muttered, tapping his leg awkwardly.
"Always John." Sherlock assured. "I'll leave now." He turned on his heel to leave, and, when no last words came, he opened the door and left. Maybe John didn't want to say goodbye, maybe he didn't dare open his mouth, for fear that any other words would come flying out. Either way, he was silent, and Sherlock felt a strange sense of accomplishment as he continued his way down the hall, back to his lonely classroom.