There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

Suddenly I'm Very Motivated

"Greg, can you go check if the drug store is open?" John wondered suddenly, looking up to his friend, who was now sipping at his caramel coffee with a dissatisfied frown. Maybe it had gotten cold. 

"Oh it is, I looked..." Greg started, but John held up a hand to shush him.
"It might have changed." John reminded him. Sherlock tensed, looking at John with his mouth nearly open in surprise. John felt a little bit crazy as well, in fact he had no idea what sort of whim he was getting at, he just knew that whatever it was, he would rather be alone with Sherlock than with Greg's judgmental and doubtful presence.
"I really doubt that...oh. Wait." Greg muttered, blinking very stupidly as his mind started to connect the dots. He opened his mouth to say something but evidently nothing came out, and so with that he turned on his heel and ran so fast out of the little notch they were hiding in that John heard him stumble into a lamp post on the sidewalk while trying to change directions. Well, at least he didn't make a big scene. John turned back to Sherlock with a newfound awkwardness in his limbs, humming through his bloodstream and turning his feet and hands to static. Sherlock obviously felt the same sort of uncomfortableness; however he was good at hiding his emotions, so he simply leaned up against the fence once more and watched John with inquisitive eyes.
"You sent him away." Sherlock observed rather obviously. John cleared his throat, nodding stiffly once more and looking upon Sherlock as if daring him to make any sort of move. Sherlock seemed dormant, however, more confused than aggressive.
"I don't think his presence was really necessary." John admitted with a shrug, as if he had simply sent Greg away because he didn't like his comments. Maybe that was it, that would be a very heterosexual answer to this new solitude they shared. Sherlock was silent, obviously waiting for John to make the first attempt at conversation, too timid to attempt it himself.
"At the...at the dance." John started, looking at Sherlock once more. "Why did you run?" Sherlock took a breath, as if he didn't expect this sort of conversation so rapidly.
"The dance was all a bit of a blur to be honest." Sherlock muttered slowly. "It was never my intention to...scare you."
"I'm not scared of you. I'm curious, however, about why you were scared of me." John answered quickly, waving away Sherlock's apology carelessly. John didn't need an apology simply because there was no harm done, in fact, he should be thanking Sherlock right now simply for existing and picking John to coexist in this world together. There were hundreds of other likely candidates for Sherlock's advances that night, however something drew Sherlock to John, and for that John was eternally thankful.
"I wasn't scared of you, so much the institution you represented." Sherlock admitted in small, quick voice, his words spoken so quickly through timid lips that John almost had trouble understanding him.
"I'm sorry?" John wondered, blinking once to show his confusion.
"Wisteria! I'm scared of that hateful school, and I saw your tie, I assumed you'd go and blab to the headmaster, God, can't you see how that would ruin me?" Sherlock asked in a breath, and an impatient one at that. It seemed as though he expected John to already know all the answers to the enigma that was his heart and soul, and yet he couldn't understand that John barely knew the answers to his own homework, mostly due to his concentration on Sherlock's heart and soul.
"I won't tell." John admitted in a rather small voice. Sherlock took another breath, this time it shared the same air of impatience as his last remark, as if John's heroics weren't admirable, but just plain annoying.
"And why not? Why wouldn't you get the adults involved, why wouldn't you want to send the hounds after me? I'm a homosexual John, in most people's eyes I'm a criminal, why should you not want to see me punished?" Sherlock asked, rolling his head along his neck so that his eyes craned up at the sky and then back down to John.
"You don't deserve to be punished for something you never did." John insisted flatly, crossing his arms and frowning at this very unappreciative boy. He had just admitted that he was terrified of Wisteria and the power they held, and yet he was basically begging John to do the very thing he was afraid of in the first place! It was like he wanted to be caught!
"Oh but it was a crime, just being with Victor landed me in this hell hole." Sherlock growled, wincing as though he was remembering all of the tortures he had to go through just to walk free.
"What have they done to you Sherlock?" John wondered rather nervously, taking a sort of step closer, as if closer proximity would help him understand the broken fragments of Sherlock's soul. At that moment, however, the telltale huffing and puffing coming around the corner announced Greg's return, as if he hadn't wanted to leave John alone with Sherlock too long, so he had run.
"They're still open." he announced proudly, clutching at his side and leaning against the brick wall painfully, as if his legs weren't able to support his weight for long enough without an aid.
"You're so out of shape." John decided with a laugh. Greg ignored that comment, which was probably for the best, and instead studied Sherlock and John, as if trying to figure out what they had been up to while he was gone. Sherlock, however, didn't seem to notice hi arrival, since he had taken to seemingly writing something down in a small notebook with a simple ballpoint pen. John looked at him curiously, wondering if this was some sort of exchange of phone numbers, and his heart did a sort of hopeful leap in his chest.
"We should go." Greg said quickly, looking at Sherlock with an almost suspicious glare, as if expecting him to break out some sort of martial arts on the two of them and kill them instantly. John just sighed, however he knew there was no arguing with Greg without looking like he was positively desperate for Sherlock's company. He had asked what he wanted to ask, found out just enough to clear Sherlock's name; all in all it was a successful visit.
"Yes, I suppose we should." John agreed with a very hesitant tone, glancing once more over at Sherlock, who was just capping the pen and tearing off the top sheet of the paper. He didn't give it away, however, he simply stowed the notebook and the pen back into the deep pocket of his billowing trench coat, crossing his arms and balling up the newly torn piece of paper in his white fist. Greg didn't seem to notice, he was checking his watch impatiently, as if they were on some sort of countdown here.
"We need to be at Wisteria in thirty minutes John, and you know how long that walk is." Greg warned, glaring at John nervously.
"Alright, fine, let's go." John agreed, following Greg out into the sidewalk before a surprisingly strong arm pulled him back for just a moment. John turned, finding himself so close to Sherlock Holmes that even he had the temptation to step away, however the tight grip on his forearm and the almost desperate look in Sherlock's eyes convinced him not to. In fact staring into Sherlock's eyes was so hypnotic that the normal reaction of stepping away was almost replaced with the need to step closer...Sherlock grabbed John's hand and dropped the paper into his palm, manually curling John's fingers over the paper to make sure he didn't lose it.
"Write to me." Sherlock said in an almost pleading whisper. John was left in an almost helpless state, and all he could seem to do at the moment was nod stupidly.
"Oh...oh come on!" Greg's voice exclaimed from the other end of the sidewalk, obviously having marched all the way down the block without noticing he wasn't being followed.
"I...I need to go." John whispered, and Sherlock's head nodded very stiffly, very quickly.
"Then go." He agreed, drawing back and finally releasing John's arm. John stood there for another moment or two, his fingers clutching over the paper in his palm as his eyes stared up at Sherlock in awe. But he couldn't stare forever, he knew that even Sherlock was getting impatient, and so without a proper goodbye John rushed to the sidewalk, breaking off into a run as he raced down to meet Greg at the doors of the drug store.