My Saving Grace

Chapter 18

*AN: It's an update!!! Finally. I know some of you have been waiting for this, so here it is. Comment what you think. Vote. Share it. Live it. Love it.*

The following morning Sherlock woke to the sun shining brightly in his eyes. Looking around, he found himself in a rather strange position on the couch. How does one end up in a tangled mess of limbs alone, and how did I end up on the couch in the first place.

 Sitting up, he tried to recall the events from the evening before, skipping over the boring parts, before landing on John. Smiling at the thought of the boy, Sherlock got up to make coffee.

John Watson, who had nervously been pacing back and forth in his bedroom when he recalled the events from the night before at five am was anxiously waiting for Sherlock to leave.  The more John thought the faster his pacing had become and the bigger the pit in his stomach had grown.

  How am I supposed to look at Sherlock now?

He had been up for hours waiting for Sherlock to hurry up and get into the shower so he could leave without having to face him. It was too much, and he couldn't just leave and say he had practice. Sherlock knew his schedule. 

Pausing, John listened. It had been quiet for a while. Licking his lips, John walked over to the door and put his ear against it, straining to hear into the apartment. Flinching at the sound of the cupboard slamming, John grabbed his backpack from the bed and yanked open the door moving to get out of the flat as fast as he could.

He flew down the hall and past Sherlock who had opened his mouth to say good morning but was quickly silenced

"Bye, Sherlock!" John yelled slamming the apartment door shut.

What the hell was that?

Shaking his head Sherlock turned and walked into the bathroom to shower. John was an unusual specimen, but a specimen Sherlock couldn't deny was his favourite. John was good. John was everything that Sherlock wasn't. John was kind and gentle, he was goofy and athletic. John was the kind of person that you wanted to build a life with.

John was the only reason that Sherlock bothered to show up to school half of the time. Who needed to go to class, with teachers who don't care, and assignments that a monkey could do? No one. But Sherlock went. He sat through every class until he was with John again. Walking into class just as the bell rang, Sherlock took a seat behind the boy who was intently taking notes. 

"So," He whispered leaning close so only John could hear him. "Are we going to talk about last night?"

Sherlock watched with amusement as John turned bright red unable to form a response. He had known this was bound to happen, he was just hoping, praying, that it would be after practice when he had time to really think. 

"I mean, I love when you're all over me, but buy me dinner first, yeah?" Sherlock teased

John didn't respond. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He would not amuse Sherlock with a response that he had to stutter to get through. 

"If you don't talk to me, I will find a way to make you."

John shook his head. 

Please dear God, on all things Holy 

"I warned you," Sherlock muttered. "Now back to last night."

"Care to tell the class what you are over there discussing, Mr Holmes?" Mr Anderson asked stopping the class just to see if Sherlock would blunder up a useless attempt for a response. 

"Care to tell the class about your affair, Desmond?" Sherlock asked narrowing his eyes at his teacher. 

Take that you prick 

John groaned and put his head down on his desk. This was not going to go well.

Standing with a mouth agape, their teacher clamped his mouth shut angrily. "To the headmaster's office, now!"

Sherlock stood with a smirk. "Sir yes sir."

"Sherlock," John whispered knowing the boy could hear him. 

"Get out of my classroom!" Mr Anderson, bellowed far enough into Sherlock's face that he spat on the boy's cheek.

John licked his lips and watched Sherlock clean his face with anger bubbling just below the surface. 

"Now, I understand what Pilarski, sees in you. I wonder if she would go for a student too."

Before anyone could bat an eye, Desmond Anderson had grabbed Sherlock by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the closest wall, knocking dioramas off of the shelf above them.

"Is this, Pilarski's favourite or is that just a special move reserved for me?"

"Shut up!" Mr Anderson screamed slamming Sherlock into the wall again

John jumped out of his seat, ready to jump in, but stopped at the small shake of Sherlock's head one that only John would have noticed. Taking a second, he followed Sherlock's eyes which were on something behind him. John turned around suddenly glad that he hadn't moved since Headmaster Charleston was standing in the doorway with two police officers.

"Release this student peacefully, Desmond or these officers will use force."

"Headmaster, this boy-

"I do not care Desmond. Release him now."

Shoving Sherlock once more he released him.

The officers jumped forward and quickly put the teacher in handcuffs telling him his police caution. "You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

When they had successfully detained and removed Mr Anderson from the room, an officer came back in to arrest Sherlock who complied without a word

"What are they doing?" John asked trying to follow. "He was the one assaulted why is he being arrested?"

"Step away, sir," the officer ordered 

"He didn't do anything wrong," John protested

"Sir." The officer said in a firmer tone. "Step away."

John nodded and backed away afraid if he was arrested as well there would be no one left to defend Sherlock. The boy, who while standing in cuffs was smirking at John.

"I told you," Sherlock whispered as he walked down the hallway but John didn't respond. He just pulled his phone from his bag and called the only person he knew could help.

Mycroft Holmes answered on the second ring with a sigh

"Yes?"

"Get to the police station. Now."

"What did he do?" Mycroft asked picking at the dirt under his nails with disinterest

"Sherlock didn't do anything this time. Just hurry."

"Sherlock didn't do anything?" 

"No," John sighed extremely annoyed. What kind of brother was he? 

"He-

"Mycroft. Sherlock needs you."

"I'll meet you there."