A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! I came up with this one a while ago and decided to write it now...It technically counts as a TeenLock one...SMUT WARNING!!! Not a lot but a bit...This is also a bit of a song fic because I had this image of Sherlock shirtless, in tight trousers, playing the guitar and singing Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days....My imagination is wonderfully over active...Enjoy<3
"I still don't see why we need another member." John groused, handing Mike his amp hookup before falling backwards onto the ratty sofa he was perched on. "We get on just fine with Irene and Greg leading." Mike laughed shaking his head as he hooked his bass to the sound system and picked out an experimental rhythm. "You're flat."
"I can hear that." Mike started twisting the tuning pegs on his bass, sending John an understanding smile. "I know you don't like change-"
"It's not that, I just don't think we need another member." Mike laughed again and played a few more notes before turning the amp off and placing the instrument on it's stand. He crossed over to where John was lying, smirking down at him.
"Budge up, I want to sit." John swung his legs off the sofa and made room for his buddy. His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket to find a text from Greg.
Hey Mate, just picked up Irene. We'll be about 5 mins. Heard from Holmes yet? – GL
Nope. Your boyfriend isn't here yet – JW
He's not my boyfriend – GL
His brother is – GL
"So, this new kid is Mycroft's brother?" John asked, feeling a flash of irritation towards Greg. The kid probably sucked and it was just a favor Greg owed his boyfriend.
"Unfortunately, yes." A new voice came from the door of the old garage they rented for practice, and John jumped slightly, rising to his feet and spinning to see who was talking. "I was told to meet everyone here."
The boy that stood in the entryway was tall, almost too-thin, and incredibly pale. He was dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt that sported a faded picture of an old band logo, black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. His wrists were covered in bracelets and cuffs, and there was the slightest hint of eyeliner surrounding pale silver irises.
He looked so unlike the posh Mycroft Holmes, John had to do a double-take.
"Hey Holmes! How've you been man?" Mike jumped up and hurried around the sofa, greeting the new boy with a clearly unwanted hug.
"Michael, always a pleasure." The boy pushed himself free of Mike's grasp and smiled uncomfortably. The way he spoke seemed horrendously out of place in the ratty garage, and gave him an air of class that would have made John uncomfortable if the boy weren't dressed the way he was.
"Hey, sorry Mate." John snapped himself out of the initial shock and stepped forward, extending a hand to the new boy. God, how old is this kid? "I'm John-"
"-Watson, yes, I know." John blinked in shock, as the boy took his hand. Why are his hand's so soft? "My name is Sherlock, though everyone calls me Holmes. Or Freak, if you prefer."
"Why would someone call you Freak?" The question fell from John's lips before he could stop it. "And how did you know my name?" Holmes smirked dangerously and winked at John, sending a strange thrill through his spine.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough, Watson." John bristled at the use of his surname. He hated it when people called him Watson. That's what people called his father before the man left his family alone to starve a few years back. "As for how I knew your name, that is just process of elimination. I know Michael, Ms. Adler, and Gavin, you are the only one I don't know; therefore, you must be John Watson." John blinked up at the boy, trying not to look too impressed.
