Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Forty Five - What John Did

Sherlock

When it was Sunday dinner, Siger told Mycroft and Sherlock to go on without him. "I have a headache," he said. 

"What did you do, brother?" Mycroft asked as they cut across the lawn.

"What did I do?"

"Yes, what did you do? When I passed Siger's room, he was muttering about you. Something about... sentiment."

"Oh?" Sherlock said. He hadn't done anything - not since the hair, and Sherlock had a feeling that that was in remission. Maybe Siger knew about yesterday, somehow. 

Then again, they never did anything Sherlock's parents told him specifically not to do... His dad just said not to make anyone pregnant, and then, it was impossible to impregnate John. His mum said not to have sex until marriage, and John and he certainly hadn't had sex.

Anyway, they hadn't gone that far. John didn't touch him anywhere you couldn't show on the telly. Sherlock wished he had.

 He might never have the opportunity to let John touch him that way again.

That morning, Anderson had watched Sherlock get on the bus with his tongue on his top lip, but all Sherlock did was brush his wild hair out of his eyes and wait for John to come on. When he did, John grinned, and Sherlock pulled him almost into his lap by his jumper. It was hard to concentrate on the people looking at them when John was kissing him into the bus seat. He looked so cute today. Instead of his usual - flannel, or a indie rock T-shirt, he was wearing a sweater that was too baggy and went past his hands.

John followed him to gym. "Tell me if anyone takes your clothes," John said. "I'll brutally murder them for you."

Sherlock smiled. "Yeah." 

Nobody stole his clothes.

Graham already knew what had happened from people in another class, and he stayed with Sherlock while he was changing. "Gonna fucking ruin them if they touch your stuff, swear to God... I'm done with their shit. Bastards." Graham proceeded to kick a locker until he was jumping on one foot, cradling his other.

"Heard you broke up with Vikki," Sherlock said, faking disinterest. He hadn't heard. He'd deduced. It was obvious, from the way Lestrade held his head, from the lack of a bracelet he'd had on earlier that week. 

Graham shot him a look. "Did she tell you?"

"Don't worry," Sherlock drawled. "Secrets wouldn't be any fun if people didn't keep them."

Graham changed the subject as quickly as possible. He said he would never let Sherlock walk alone to lunch again. Sherlock was thankful for that small justice.

"They're all bloody Commies," Greg growled.

Sherlock nodded and laughed.

Later, when it was afternoon, Sherlock told John that he couldn't come over; he had an errand to run. 

Sherlock got in his dad's Mustang and drove it out to get a license. If his mum was here, she would've accompanied him. She wasn't, though, so Sherlock had to pass the test by himself. He got his permit earlier that year, when he took the written test, but his dad hadn't let him take the driven one, because he couldn't drive a stick.

If Siger came back from work early, Sherlock would get the beating of a lifetime. That didn't matter, though, Sherlock was going to take this test and he was going to ace it.

Sherlock passed the test on the first try with flying colors. He'd even parallel parked the car, which was the most prideful feeling he'd ever experienced. Sherlock made his hair extra crazy for when he got his picture taken.