My Saving Grace

Chapter 2

       The following morning Sherlock headed to school early. higher than a kite, he walked to school with his hands in his pockets lost in thought. He crept in through the science wing and walked softly up the stairs. His mouth all but dropped when he spotted the boy from the diner asleep.  He was wearing a black sweatshirt under his letterman jacket and tight-fitting jeans. He had his arms draped on the seat of the bench behind him, his head was tilted back, as he slept with his mouth partly open.

       What is he doing here?  

        Sherlock watched John sleep and contemplated waking him he didn't. Instead, Sherlock took the wall across from John and slid to the floor. Stretching one leg out and the bending the other so it was an arm rest, Sherlock made himself comfortable and watched. While John slept, Sherlock smoked taking in every detail that he could. He noticed the stain on John's pant leg and the fact that he was wearing two heavy coats so early in autumn. 

     The stench of the smoke lured John out of his small sliver of peaceful, dreamless sleep. With a pounding heart and sweaty palms, he jumped up right turning his eyes where the lock to his bedroom door should have been. Instead, he found the boy from last night watching him so intensely it made John shift uncomfortably. 

          "What are you doing here?" John asked doing the best he could to calm his breathing while Sherlock watched him. The tall boy was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt that red bite me underneath. His black jeans led to black converse from the night before and he had a silver chain hanging from his pockets which shone under the fluorescent lights of the school. His hair was in a wild mop and his eyes were locked on John.

        John cleared his throat and stretched. The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned up as he took another drag from his cigarette, perfectly aware of just how uncomfortable John was.    

          "Why are you here?" Sherlock asked his voice low and smooth

          "I asked you first."

          "And?"

          John sighed.

         Sherlock continued to look at him his eyes unwavering. 

        "I had morning practice," John said flatly, looking at Sherlock, waiting for his answer.

       "Why Rugby?" Sherlock asked.

       John was taken aback for a moment. "I didn't tell you I played-

       "You didn't have to."

       "How did you-

       "The patch on your jacket."

       "Brilliant," John said in awe

       "Why Rugby?" Sherlock repeated. Firmer this time. 

        "I like the sport and I like to release my aggression. Why so curious?"

        Sherlock crushed his cigarette out on the side of his shoe and flicked the butt down the hallway. "What do you have to be aggressive over?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

       "All kinds of things." Things John couldn't even put into words for Sherlock to understand. To even fathom.

      "Like?"

      "Like life."

      "Touchy subject got it."

       "I didn't say that."

      "You didn't have to."

      John opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw Sherlock move to stand.

     "Are you on drugs?" John asked suddenly. 

     Sherlock tucked his hands into his pockets and moved for the stairs not bothering to answer such a stupid question with an obvious answer. "Sleep in the auditorium instead. It's much quieter." 

        John sat in class taking notes when the door to his classroom was opened abruptly opened. His and everyone else's heads turned to the interruption. In strolled Sherlock, who walked to the seat directly in front of John's. He sat without a word taking out his own notebook for notes. 

       Only they weren't everyone else's notes. They were his observations about John Watson. There were a lot. So much, in fact,  his pen couldn't keep up with his thoughts. Sherlock was so deep into his writing that he didn't stop writing until he heard his name. Slamming his book shut he looked up to find his teacher, Mr Anderson, looking at him.

       "What?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

        "You and John are partners for this assignment. I'm going to assume you will work with him."

        "What are we working on?"

       "Behavioural changes."

       "Between?"

        "Regular people of the world. You are to determine what causes the change in a person's behaviour."

        Sherlock turned around suddenly and looked at John.

       "Are you going to carry your own weight?"

       John nodded

       "Are you going to ask any more stupid questions?"

      "No-

       Sherlock turned back around to face their teacher.

       "Fine. I'll work with him. If this doesn't go right, I want to be able to drop him immediately."

      Their teacher sighed. "Alright."

      Sherlock packed his bag without a word and left. John chased after him.

     "Sherlock!" He called stopping the tall boy in his tracks.

    "What?" Sherlock hissed spinning around so his nose was inches from John's.

      John's spine stiffened and quickly he was filled with anger.

    "Stop being a smarmy arse and listen to me. All I wanted to know was when you would want to get together to work on this project and you stormed off. Don't tell me to carry my own weight and then act like I am being an inconvenience when I do!" John yelled feeling the blood pounding in his ears

     Sherlock took a step back looking at John with an indiscernible gaze

     "Is everything all right here John?" Gregory Lestrade asked walking up from behind them.

    "Uh yeah, no problem here Greg, just talking to Sherlock here about a school project."

     Lestrade shifted his gaze to Sherlock who gave him a small nod of confirmation

     "See you at practice, John."

     "See you then." He said turning back to Sherlock who was already gone, sighing, he returned to class.

     At practice, he took out all of his aggression he had acquired from Sherlock and used it in the game. He tackled anyone and everyone who had the ball and took the lumps and bruises along the way. By the end of practice, he was sweaty and exhausted, but not so exhausted that he missed Sherlock's note in his locker. With a frown, he thought about ignoring it and just going home to study, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him.