There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

Obsession Is Never Healthy

John craned his neck to and fro, trying to catch a glimpse of any boys in the class he didn't recognize. He was disappointed to find that he could name most everyone in the class, and none of them were named anything close to Victor Trevor. They didn't even look the part, the mental picture John had in his head of the boy, it resembled none of them. Of course his image might be completely off, that or it could be spot on. In John's mind Victor was a short, mousy like boy, with blonde hair and a very timid, almost feminine look to him. John could only imagine how scared the poor thing was now that he had been so brutally attacked by that mysteriously beautiful boy. And so John turned back around, trying to focus on the teacher once more on calculous but finding very quickly that his mind was off somewhere else, somewhere in the classrooms of Lauriston Public School where Sherlock undoubtedly sat. When English was finally over (that class seemed to take much longer than all the others, just because the teacher droned on like a record playing static) Greg and John walked quietly down to the dining hall, all of their usual pep being replaced by uncomfortableness as Greg doubted his best friend's entire existence. John, on the other hand, was thoughtful, and he walked down to the dining hall with his head stuck in the same cloud it had woken up in. He knew that he wanted to know everything about Sherlock Holmes that he could, it didn't matter how insignificant it may seem, he just needed to know. He called it a professional curiosity, but he knew it was more, it was suspicion and doubt and fear, all three emotions that would cause a man to lose his head if he wasn't careful.
"John, I've been thinking..." Greg muttered as they sat down at their usual spot, staring at the loads of food before them without much of an appetite. John meagerly grabbed a roll, however he just sat it down on his plate and stared at it for a moment, as if expecting it to sever itself in half and miraculously sprout butter.
"That alone is astonishing." John muttered back, cracking a little smile which he was surprised to see was not returned. Greg looked thoughtful, pensive even, as if he had something important to say and didn't want it to be interrupted with meager humor.
"John I decided that I don't really care, you know, if you're homosexual, or heterosexual, or anywhere in between. You're my best friend, and it doesn't matter if you..."
"I'm going to stop you right there Greg." John said with a smile, holding up his hand and shutting Greg up with nothing more than his hand motion. Greg stopped almost thankfully, as if he was hoping he didn't have to go on.
"I appreciate your acceptance, but there's really no need to go on. I'm heterosexual, I always have been, always will be, it was a misunderstanding alright? The whole thing." John assured. Greg breathed a sigh of relief, but he just shrugged innocently.
"Either way, you're still my best friend, so like, whatever you decide in the future, or in the past, I'll be here. As long as you don't flirt with me. Because that would be weird and scary and I'd just like to remind you that I am very, very, heterosexual." Greg said flatly, looking at John with a sort of blank look of fear, as if he was watching through his soul rather than his eyes and speaking something of a prerecorded message.
"Trust me Greg, we've all noticed your straightness." John assured. Greg smiled proudly, sitting up straighter as though he thought that was something to be proud of.
"Ya, you probably have. Because I have a lot of girlfriends, because I'm awesome." Greg agreed with a large, childish smile. John just laughed, shaking his head in annoyance and wondering just what he had done to deserve such a loser as a best friend. But obviously that loser cared about him, so that was reassuring to say the least.
"I want to talk to Victor Trevor." John decided half way into their lunch, dropping the remnants of his sandwich onto his plate and looking up at Greg expectantly.
"Why on earth do you want to do that?" Greg wondered in shock, going a bit pale as he heard John's ridiculous proposal.
"Well I mean, don't you think we should just tell him? Don't you think he has the right to know?" John wondered curiously, frowning at Greg even though he could understand his confusion. There really was no logical reason to go up and bother that boy, or to make him relive those tragic moments, however John felt like he just had to. As if he thought he owed it to that stranger to inform him of Sherlock Holmes's prowling about Lauriston.