There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

The Fish and The Snake

"Um, John?" asked a rather nervous sounding voice from the sidewalk, obviously the rough and awkward Greg Lestrade. John sighed heavily, letting his grip slacken as he looked up at Sherlock once more.
"We got to go; they'll close the doors soon." Greg advised, sounding as though he was speaking directly at the concreate below his feet, as not to invade their privacy.
"I have to go." John repeated in a small voice, staring up into Sherlock's green eyes and getting momentarily lost in all the emotions and all the life that resided in those irises.
"Yes I heard." Sherlock agreed, sounding reluctant to let John leave so easily.
"I'll see you Sherlock, I'll see you soon. I'll write, I'll call, I'll sneak out I don't care. I'll be there." John assured again. Sherlock smiled sadly, as though he knew just how much trouble he was putting John through but didn't he realize that it didn't matter? All this secrecy, this effort, this risk taking, it was all worth it just for a second of his presence! John would walk to the end of the earth and back just so that he could spend another minute in Sherlock's thin, gentle arms.
"It's not as easy as it sounds." Sherlock whispered.
"It can be." John assured, and once more for good measure he pressed a farewell kiss onto Sherlock's lips, pulling away slowly and reluctantly. Sherlock stood for a shocked little moment, as if he didn't know how to say goodbye, as if he simply couldn't say goodbye.
"I'll see you around." Sherlock muttered pathetically as soon as they were parted.
"You will, I promise." John assured once more, nodding his reassurance as he walked up the alley to where Greg waited. His legs felt heavy and every muscle in his body was begging him to turn back around, to where he knew that Sherlock was waiting.
"I love you...John." Sherlock called back to him, and John froze on the spot. He turned around quickly to see Sherlock standing alone in the shadows, a look of nervousness on his white face; as though he was worried John wouldn't accept his love. However John just smiled softly, resisting all temptations of running back and kissing that boy one last time.
"And I you, Sherlock. With all my heart and more." John assured, and with that he turned finally away, walking up to Greg and leaving with the image of Sherlock standing so nervously in that alley, leaving with the feeling of his arms around him and his lips on his own. Leaving all his love in the alley behind him with Sherlock and racing up to Wisteria with the other boys, racing through the hard pavement and the cold grass under the pale moon that hung so lazily in the night sky above. They were running with reluctance and with power, slipping through the doors of Wisteria right before weekend curfew, right on time. 

 That night was silent. There was no laughing and chatting about their dates, there was no gossiping and filling each other in on all the details. They all lay in their beds without muttering a single word, thinking of their dates, dreaming of their love, and praying that the next date came soon. This wasn't just boyish love, this wasn't as simple as grabbing a girl from the masses so that you weren't alone on Friday nights, this was progressing into something so much more, something neither of the boys knew how to handle. It was love of the most desperate kind, it was the opportunity of happiness that suddenly stretched out before them, it was the future in the form of a person. It seems as though instead of simply flirting the three of them had effectively fallen in love, but none so deeply and so impossibly than John. Greg and Mike were lucky; they had found their matches and knew that their future was secured as long as they had consent from the other party. John and Sherlock, they would never have the future you imagined for sweethearts. They would never have that dream wedding day, they would never have a family or a house of their own, however their happiness would be unreachable by any unworthy hands. Their love would be untouched by the cruel and judgmental tendrils that were lashing out at them every moment from society as a whole. They would be happy, together and always, simply by knowing that the man they loved so desperately loved them back with every morsel of his soul. It wasn't marriage and family that sealed the couple together; it was commitment, loyalty, and companionship. And despite this terribly flawed world and its prejudices, they could settle all three of those points flawlessly. Society won't ask questions if they saw the two of them as best friends, the common folk wouldn't retaliate when it saw two bachelors sharing a rent, and the people would never know what went on behind the closed curtains. They would never realize what sort of valid love the two men shared, despite being just that, two men. The future never seemed so promising, it never seemed so tempting. Suddenly John felt as though Wisteria wasn't just a school but a prison, holding him from his love and holding him from his life. Just one more year, one more painful year of education, sports, and socialization and then he could live his life away with Sherlock on his arm and in his heart. It was accessible, it was possible, all he had to do was be patient. All he had to do was wait for the right time to take Sherlock into his arms and take him far away, so far that no one knew their names, no one knew their faces, no one knew their stories. Just two men, best friends, that was all anyone had to see. That was all they were capable of seeing. When the son rose John simply opened his eyes, no need to wake up if he hadn't gotten to sleep at all. He had been tossing and turning all night, worrying and wondering and wishing, thinking about things that were far beyond his control and getting immensely stressed out. His blankets were all kicked to one side of the bed and he was only covered in a simple sheet despite the chill that was hanging in the autumn air. John looked over to see if Greg was awake, however a simple glance at the clock told him the answer to that question. It was seven o'clock in the morning and therefore Greg wouldn't even stir for another hour or so. He slept when he wanted to, and somehow on weekends his body just shut down for as long as he thought necessary. An internal alarm clock was wired into his brain, or at least it was a weekend alarm clock, and it never went off until way past breakfast. So John simply sat up in his bed, using the rays of morning sunshine to read the now smudged numbers still visible on his palm from the night before. John quickly grabbed a pencil and paper, copying down the phone number before he accidently wiped it off while washing his hands or something like that. It was good to have Sherlock's phone number, just in case last minute plans such as the ones last night suddenly emerge. John knew however that writing would definitely be their number one method of communication, it was slower but it was much safer to hide letters in envelopes than to risk calling from Mrs. Hudson's phone to a house that only has one possible correspondent. If John risked everything to call and a woman picked up his entire night was wasted, and he wouldn't get another opportunity to call until the next night. So no, that would be worst case scenario, and for now they would communicate like they have been for the past couple of weeks. As Greg slept John took advantage of the peace and quiet to write up something of a letter, thanking Sherlock for coming to the game and gushing about how much fun it had been and how he was in love with that dorky little kid. Of course he had to keep it rather vague, he never used the word love directly but he used every other possible word, just in case the letter was intercepted and he had to talk his way out of it. The word affection was much broader, it could describe anything from love to companionship to brotherhood, and John was sure Sherlock would get the message he was trying to write despite the fancy word play. It was only the morning after and yet John missed Sherlock so terribly his heart was aching in his chest. To make matters worse he knew that there would be a good week or so until they met again, most likely more. It was loneliness of the most agonizing sort, simply because, had John gone to Lauriston, they could see each other every day for as long as they liked. They could have classes together; they could walk around the park after school, go on dates at night or simply watch a movie in the confidential darkness of their bedrooms. It was a weekend, a magical opportunity for most kids and yet everyone in Wisteria would be spending it the same way they spent any other free time they were given. Plunged in homework. Miserable, sleep deprived, and lonely was how John spent his weekend, as did the rest of the boys trapped in their rooms at Wisteria. And not a word was spoken between Greg, John, and Mike about their dates from the previous night, not even of the game. It was as if they were all struggling with the same internal conflict, they were trying not to think of their dates simply because they didn't want to face the reality, they didn't want to remember that despite the beauty of that Friday night it would be a long while until they got to see the loves of their lives again. Maybe they thought that being silent will help with that aching loneliness. With Monday came a new sort of ache, the ache of a pop quiz in Mr. Fletcher's class. He of course, had noticed that the attentiveness in his class had dropped below the legal limit, so he flung at them not so much a pop quiz as it was a pop exam. There were thirty questions, all about a country that John only had a vague memory of learning about, and all, he was fairly certain, he got wrong. Even Greg was whining afterwards, even though he was going on and on about how there were three questions he couldn't get and how an eighty something would bring his grade down. John was astounded, beyond astounded, that Greg could even manage to write his name at the top of the paper much less answer all but three, however it would seem that his goofy lack of concentration got him far enough to be top of the class. John envied Greg to no extent, he did basically nothing in class and yet his head was always filled with the right knowledge at the right time.