My Saving Grace

Chapter 11

School went by faster than ever.

 Before either of them knew it, it was over and John had practice. He ignored the questions about his eye, telling his teammates it was a lame story and focused on the game.

While John prepared for the next game, Sherlock sat in the bleachers watching his new flatmate play, worried his injuries would limit him, but they did no such thing. John played as though his life depended on it, he moved and pushed past all of the bruising to tear across the field. Nothing was going to hold him back from the game. He was odd that way. It was as though he could forget all things bad in his life as long as he was playing the sport. Lost in his thoughts Sherlock hadn't noticed his brother beside him.

"Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same brother."

"I'm trying to understand the dynamics of the game," He lied

"And John."

"Why are you here, Mycroft."

"I'm here for Greg. We have plans."

"Shouldn't you be focused on your studies for university?"

"I am a study in anatomy. Lestrade is just there to... keep me company."

"By sticking your dick in his mouth?"

Mycroft let out a small chuckle, "What a potty mouth Sherlock."

Sherlock ignored him

"I received a call from mother this morning. She said you hadn't been home for the weekend."

"I wasn't."

"Care to inform me of where you were?"

"Yes."

"If you're going to leave the house at odd hours and never show up you could at least have the decency to move out," Mycroft snapped.

"I might just do so," Sherlock snapped back

"You're getting attached, Sherlock. Watch what you do carefully," Mycroft warned his brother, plucking his keys from his seat he stormed off.

"Piss off," Sherlock said after him

"I fear you would enjoy that too much," Mycroft called over his shoulder.

Sighing, Sherlock put his elbows on the seat behind him and closed his eyes, enjoying the brisk air and lack of sun. Who needs summer? He stayed in that position and didn't open his eyes until he heard his name.

Opening his eyes he saw John standing at the bottom of the bleachers. He was covered head to toe in mud but was smiling widely. Sherlock felt his stomach kick.

"When did you get here?" John asked taking a seat on the first row feeling the coolness of the bleachers on the back of his legs.

"Something like thirty minutes," he shrugged.

"Was there something you needed?" John asked trying to figure out why Sherlock of all people would be at a sports game. 

"No." Sherlock shook his head sending his curls flying. "I just came to see you."

John looked surprised at this. "

Just to see me?" He asked

"Is that not what friends do?" Sherlock asked mentally kicking himself for his stupidity.

"No, that is." John smiled

"Then what?"

"You called me your friend."