Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter Sixteen: Dirty Little Secret?

Just A Game [Teenlock AU]

Chapter Sixteen: Dirty Little Secret?

A/N: Okay guys. This chapter is still rather vague but I think that it really starts putting the puzzle pieces together for you all. I hope that I've not 'hinted' too much that you've guessed all of it. Not all of 'it' is here, however. Just more obvious clues, shall we say?

*

Before long both John and Sherlock have fallen asleep, Sherlock's arm still around John's waist. They manage to get a decent amount of sleep before the bright light pierces between the gap in Sherlock's curtain and causes John's vision red beneath his eyelids.

He stirs and sits up with a yawn. He glances to the side to see Sherlock's still asleep. He looks peaceful, despite the small frown etched into his features. His curls are flopping over his forehead in a child-like innocence.

John wasn't sure which adjective described him better: Adorable or Gorgeous.

John took a moment to look over Sherlock's face. If you got a close look, as John could now, Sherlock had some freckles splatters over the side of his face, close to his neck. He had thick eyelashes too and if John didn't know better he'd say the teen was wearing mascara. His skin was pale but not unhealthy, it was creamy and had a slight pink undertone that just screamed life and youth. Then there were his lips... Dear God. His lips. They were so full and plump, any woman would be jealous of those cupid bow lips.

"Jim..." Those perfect lips suddenly sigh.

John's brows furrow of their own accord, his heart sinking at the fact it wasn't his name on those lips.

Realisation and logic sink in. This wasn't some cliché story or film where he sleeps with someone and they suddenly adored him and return his feelings. No, this was the real world. The real world which is full of pain, heartbreak and a shed load of unrequited love.

John wasn't anything more than a boy who Sherlock had done the dirty with. He wasn't special. He was just John, that annoying blonde that took a bit longer to bed.

And yet, John found he couldn't be angry or upset with the sleeping boy beside him. If anything, John was the one to blame for ache in his chest.

John hadn't even realised his feelings went quite this deep. Now, he guesses, he understand all those people to stare after the Trio with cartoon eyes despite knowing they'd been used.

In the Trio, there was something that appeal up everyone.

Irene Alder; the dominatrix with witty sarcasm, the look of royalty and power, a sense of danger. Any man or woman would be hooked, if only interested in finding out why she had that aura of danger.

Jim Moriarty; the charming Irishman with a darker side and an unusual sense of madness that very should be off putting- but like wanting to discover more about Irene's danger people wanted to find the root of Jim's slightly demented approach towards things.

Then you had Sherlock Holmes. He had so many layers, John wasn't sure where to start. He was that sexy mysterious one that everyone wanted to know more about. He was that broken boy with an unknown past that everyone waned to fix. He was that genius that every mother wanted her daughter to marry. He was that oddly cold yet approachable boy who's eyes sometimes screamed sadness.