My Saving Grace

Chapter 7

Sherlock didn't speak to John for five days. He didn't look at the boy or even remotely do anything to get his attention, but he thought about John. Every single time he saw John Watson in the halls, or at lunch, or sitting in class carefully taking each note with care Sherlock thought about him. Even when John wasn't near Sherlock he thought about him. It was a thought he couldn't escape. No matter how he tried. 

"Sherlock dear, are you alright?" His mother asked, snapping him from deep thoughts over his rather adorable lab partner.

Sherlock nodded and resumed eating feeling his brothers pensive gaze upon him.

When dinner was over Sherlock quickly tried to make his way to his room, but he wasn't quick enough, for Mycroft had his foot jammed into the door before Sherlock could close it.

"What do you want, Mycroft," Sherlock asked with a sigh, opening the door so his brother could enter his room. 

"You've met someone," Mycroft said pushing the door open and closing it behind him.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do brother dear. Does the name John Watson, ring a bell?"

Sherlock didn't respond, he should have known his brother would find out. Greg and John were on the same team for crying out loud. Greg was his brother's boyfriend. He should never have let John get close enough to even raise suspicions. 

"I've never seen you in such a state. You haven't left your room for the past three days. You come home and you don't reek of tobacco. You have even talked to mother and father." Mycroft said without really saying it to Sherlock, "He has really gotten under your skin, hasn't he brother?"

Silence.

"He has."

"You are wrong. John is just my science partner."

"A science partner who you want to snog with."

Sherlock felt the blood vessels in his face contracting.

"You do like him," Mycroft smirked. "You had better talk to him brother dear, he's waiting."

Mycroft left without another word, shutting the door behind him. Sherlock sighed flopping onto his bed, staring at the ceiling while he thought. 

He liked John. He was captivated by the boy. John was kind and selfless. He was smart. He worked hard. He always made sure to smile at Sherlock even when they weren't speaking. As the hours ticked by Sherlock thought harder about John. He thought so much he had given himself a headache. He rolled over and glanced at his clock. 4:45.

He sat up and stared at his shoes. The ones John had removed just a few days before, to make sure Sherlock slept comfortably. Sighing Sherlock grabbed his coat and opened his window. He needed to think.

He needed to smoke.

A release

 Anything to take his mind off of John Watson. 

John was sore. Morning weights had taken a toll on him and it was only 5. He was tired. He had barely slept. He was working hard on homework after coming home from work at midnight.

Yawning, he left the locker room and wandered halls thankful it was Friday and, surprised with the how quiet this place was when no one was around. He found himself standing in front of the Auditorium. Sherlock's words ringing out to him. He opened the door, when he found it was empty, he crept in closing the door softly. He made his way to the very back aisle and selected a cushioned seat.

He had a nearly two hours of sleep to catch and just enough time to get some shut-eye. So he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

Sherlock opened the auditorium doors. He made his way to the stage with his Violin in hand. He was going to play. Something he hadn't done in a while. But when he stepped on stage he was shocked to see John in the very back of the room asleep.

He had listened to what Sherlock had to say. He slept where he had suggested. Sherlock's heart kicked at the thought.

He heard Mycroft's words from the night before. Talk to him. Sherlock didn't know what to even say. He wanted to say everything, but he couldn't put it into words. Hopping off the stage he made his way back to John who was slowly emerging from sleep.

Groaning, he sat up with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes. John yawned once more and when he looked up he saw Sherlock staring at him from three rows away.

Neither said anything for a while. They just stared at each other. Then John stood and made his way to leave.

"Wait," Sherlock said.

John stopped, his hand hovering at the door.

"For what Sherlock?" He snapped turning. "For you to ignore me some more, to get my hopes up thinking we were friends, wait for you to drop off the face of the earth and not talk to me?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John cut him off.

"Save it. You only speak to me to insult me or when you need me for something. You never cared to be my friend. I don't know why I bothered trying to be yours." He said slamming the auditorium door behind him.

Sherlock flinched, feeling as though he had been slapped in the face. He waited too long. He blew it with the nicest human he had met. For the rest of the day, Sherlock felt sick to his stomach. He could do nothing but drift from class to class and hope to get home. In seventh John said nothing to him. He looked out the window and moved away from Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed, he did this to himself. He pushed John away. He deserved this. At home, he went straight to his room and locked the door. Dropping into his bed he rolled himself into a burrito and stared at the wall. He ignored anyone who came to his door. He didn't even bother to get up for dinner. He didn't move until his phone rang, the sound piercing through the air breaking the silence. 

Unknown number.

Sighing, he answered. "What?"

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock sat upright in bed.

"John?"

"You said to call you." He said into the phone voice quivering. "You said to call you if anything happened."

Sherlock didn't know what to say so he sat in silence and waited for John to keep talking.

"It was bad. I don't know what happened, I was just so angry."

"John." Sherlock interrupted. "Where are you."

'I'm walking around downtown."

"Stay where you are I'm coming to find you."