There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

He'll Try To Change Your Mind

    "If I talk to you will you stop bothering me?" John asked hopefully, setting down his fork in a finalized sort of way. He could hear Mike and Greg muttering things from in front of him and yet his attention was now solely fixed on Victor, who was still smiling with only the corners of his lips.
"Yes of course." Victor agreed in a tone as smooth as velvet, as if he was flirting or something ghastly like that. John sighed heavily, but nodded, pushing himself to his feet rather roughly and standing moodily in the aisle between tables.
"John what are you doing? You've got to study for geography!" Greg reminded him, as if that was supposed to be one of John's main concerns at the moment. Something as pathetic as geography, that was almost laughable. There were more important things to his life at the moment, things like Sherlock, like relationships, like love. Victor got very slowly to his feet, making sure to adjust his uniform and fix his hair as slowly and perfectly as possible before he moved an inch. Of course he knew that he was wasting John's very precious time but then again it was almost like he was doing it intentionally, as if trying to remind John just who was in control of this situation. He was a very dominating creature, and with that height of course he had every right to be. He seemed like the type of boy who would be a complete train wreck of a boyfriend, almost as if he only loved simply to be loved in return. He didn't seem very warm and fuzzy, and even with the stories Sherlock had told John about his relationship with Victor, well, it seemed as if the boy John saw now and the boy from two years ago were completely different people. Maybe Sherlock's capture had some sort of negative effect on Victor as well, one that wasn't all together obvious. Maybe there was a time when he loved Sherlock, and now he was having trouble coping with the fact that he had destroyed his lover's life to save his own. Then again John was in no position to pity Victor. After seeing the mess he had made of Sherlock's life it was only fair that he should struggle with some of the psychological effects of backstabbing. So what if he was a little bit sad sometimes, Sherlock was bullied, harassed, treated as if he wasn't even human! All because of Victor, and what he had said to save his own skin. John was teeming with hatred for this boy, and yet he obediently followed him out of the crowded dining room and up the stairs, trying his best to keep up with Victor's large stride as they made their way down the deserted hallways. Was this loneliness intentional? Was Victor trying to get John alone while everyone else was safely seated down in the dining hall? Was there something more going on here, something John was simply too oblivious to suspect? Victor paused in front of his door, fishing out his key and fitting it perfectly into the lock. He glanced back at John, who was standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, as if trying to make sure he was still standing there. Not a word was said, and yet Victor swung open the door, leading John into his darkened dorm room. John lingered near the door until Victor took the liberty of turning on the light by his bed, lingering next to the window where the blinds were drawn up just so that they could display whatever fading sunlight could make it past the tree line.
"Close the door." Victor instructed, flicking his hand carelessly towards John as if he was just to prestigious to close it himself. John sighed heavily, however he stepped farther into the room and pulled the door shut behind him, officially locking him in with only Victor Trevor by the lamplight. This was precisely the kind of solitude John was anxious to avoid, dark encounters with shady people when no one was around to hear you scream. Solitude with Sherlock was wonderful, and yet being alone with Victor made John extremely uncomfortable, especially when those electric blue eyes fixed on his in a dominating sort of way, as if Victor only saw John as his own pitiful replacement.
"You saw him Wednesday night, didn't you?" Victor wondered, turning his gaze on John once more and yet staying near the window. John was happy for the distance, and yet he suspected that Victor only started out so far away so that he could step forward for dramatic effect.
"You heard then?" John muttered, crossing his arms and feeling the need to lean on the door. However he didn't want to look as if Victor was boring him, because then he was sure the boy would take even longer to get the point.
"I didn't hear, I saw. My window has an excellent view of the woods, Mr. Watson, and I'd have to be blind not to notice when you and your friends take off down that hill after bed check." Victor admitted with a careless shrug. John couldn't help but going a little bit pale. He didn't like his secrets in Victor's hands, especially when he was a known snitch. Who knows what Victor could do with that information if he got a little bit upset? He could easily go tell the headmaster about what was going on, or maybe take photographs to use as evidence. John had always thought their escape plan had been flawless, and yet it would appear that he didn't take into consideration the kids that obviously had the best views of his criminal activity.
"Well then I guess you already know that I was with him?" John decided with a sigh.
"I assumed. It was only you, and I'll be willing to guess that it was only him as well. Was that solitude your idea, Mr. Watson, or did he suggest it?" Victor asked with a malicious sort of smile. John glared at him through the semidarkness, not wanting to let Victor think he had the upper hand in this conversation.
"It just so happened that we were alone. It was no one's idea." John spat.
"Funny how that just happens." Victor agreed carelessly, casting his blue eyes once more at John with an amused expression. "See when we were together, Sherlock and I, he wouldn't let anyone see us interacting. He didn't even like tot alk in class, just in case anyone saw the two of us and put two and two together. Now of course Wisteria boys are very intellectually one sided. They're geniuses when it comes to regurgitating information from a text book but common sense and relationship sensors, well, maybe not as strong. But Sherlock, poor little Sherlock, he was too scared to take any risks. So we met in secret, when our roommates were out, or at the library, or simply on the deserted stairwells when classes weren't in. We would only talk of course, but I could tell that he was getting more comfortable with me because sometimes he just sat a little bit closer..." Victor muttered in a breathless tone, as if he could still feel Sherlock's proximity if he concentrated hard enough.
"Did you love him?" John wondered with a clenched jaw, asking although he didn't want to know the answer. Sometimes it was hard to imagine that there was a time that Sherlock and Victor were together, that the best and worst people on this earth and they were once so desperately in love. It was a horrible thought for John to concentrate on, he liked to think of Sherlock as a beautiful and pure boy and yet he had been permanently scarred by this hideous beast that stood so docile in front of John now. And to think that their hearts had met, their souls had intertwined...
"Well of course, Mr. Watson, of course. I gave that boy my heart and soul, and he used it to his advantage. I loved him before I knew what a monster he was beneath." Victor muttered sadly.
"He's the monster?" John clarified with a laugh, taking a defensive step forward and yet feeling the need to retreat when Victor's eyes flashed dangerously from across the room.
"Oh don't believe Sherlock's silly little tales, the evidence was irrefutable, he can lie all he wants and you're just going to lap it up like a dog. You won't believe me because you refuse to believe anything that contradicts the truth you were fed so willingly. You want him to be the angel you made him out to be." Victor snapped hatefully, waving his hand carelessly through the air as if he simply didn't have time for John's single minded nonsense.
"Evidence, there was no evidence!" John exclaimed carelessly, smiling despite the anger that was now building up in his throat.
"He was on top of me! There were scratch marks on my wrists, I was paralyzed in horror I couldn't walk!" Victor exclaimed, shuttering with horror as if recalling the horrible memories was just too dreadful a task. John just shook his head, rubbing his eyes and trying to think of something to say to defend Sherlock. He knew he was innocent; he wasn't going to be persuaded otherwise.
"He did nothing wrong, you're lying!" John yelled back, pointing an accusing finger at Victor as if by this gesture alone the truth would be revealed. Victor just smirked, looking at John as if he was no more than a pathetic child, screaming nonsense about things he knew nothing about.
"He's manipulating you, can't you sense it? He's using your idiocy, he wants you to think that he's innocent, that way, when he decides that he simply can't wait any longer you're going to think that it's love and not greed! You're never going to notice when he rapes you John, because you're going to think that it's love. Trust me when I tell you, Mr. Watson, that Sherlock Holmes cannot house a shred of love in that deformed heart of his." Victor growled. John was speechless; he couldn't even bring himself to respond, he couldn't bring himself to simply look at the boy who was standing before him, accusing Sherlock Holmes of being a criminal once more. It was obscene, it was unfair, Sherlock, that poor boy that wouldn't hurt a fly, accused of such things! What was Victor playing at?
"Why do you do this Victor? Are you trying to keep me away from him, are you trying to keep him for yourself? Can you not stand the thought that maybe he loves another person?" John muttered weakly, feeling his back press against the door for support even though he couldn't recall ever moving backwards. Victor simply laughed, as if he found John's accusations to be pathetic at most. He was starting to feel a bit trapped in this room, the shadows were seemingly creeping up at all sides, the light from the lamp dimming as the conversation got thicker, hanging a dark veil around John's eyes. Even though he was so close to the door he felt that he couldn't leave until Victor permitted it, that boy was in control, he manipulated everything that happened and he certainly wouldn't let John just walk away.
"He loves no one, Mr. Watson, that's where you're wrong. I'm trying to protect you, save you from a fate that had been forced upon me, that has ruined me." Victor insisted in a mockingly broken voice. John simply shook his head, his throat closing up indefinitely and preventing him from speaking a word in Sherlock's defense. He almost couldn't process this, the idea that Victor would stand behind his feeble lies as if they were somehow going to protect him from the truth. Did he rehearse this all in his head the night before; did he plan these speeches and add more and more tragedies onto his ever growing list of accusations? Did he tell himself Sherlock was a monster so frequently that he actually started to believe it?
"He loves me Victor, I'm sure of it." John declared flatly.
"I cannot wait, Mr. Watson, until I can prove you wrong." Victor exclaimed with a legitimate smile on his horrible face. John shivered in disgust, hating every word that boy said, hating every fiber of that horrible excuse of a human being. The conversation seemed to end right there, and for a moment the two of them stood silent, staring at each other through the ever growing darkness, their chests heaving up and down as if they had just run a marathon and yet it seemed as though they hadn't moved the entire time. They both had the same image in their heads right now, their brains were both conforming the darkness into the same shape, the same body, the same face. Sherlock stood staring back at them, looking into two different pairs of eyes and undoubtedly wearing a different expression. John knew that there was nothing more to say, Victor had done his pathetic speech, he had delivered his warnings, and despite John's doubtfulness they said what was needed to be said and that was the end of it. Evidently John served no purpose in this room except to be stared at like a pathetic animal, trapped in a cage.
"Can I go?" he croaked weakly, his fingers clinging to the door handle behind him. Victor cast a very bored look in John's direction, but nodded very minimally, as if he almost didn't want john to notice.
"Heed my warning Mr. Watson." Victor insisted in a rather distant voice; however John was already out the door. He pried the door open and ran out so quickly that he almost didn't notice where he was running until he was panting in front of his own dorm, patting each other his pockets to see which one held the key. However it seemed as though he didn't need the key after all, because as soon as he started to feel around in his pocket the door opened sharply, and a very curious looking Greg Lestrade stood patiently at the door.

"There you are! We almost thought...well...never mind that." Greg muttered with a shrug, opening the door wider to reveal that John had been replaced, or at least his spot had been. Mike was longing on his bed with his disgusting leather shoes all over John's blankets, his geography book pried open while he read with squinted eyes, trying to harbor the last of the dying sunlight that twinkled in through the window.
"Ah, we have company." John muttered, wiping his brow of any accumulated sweat before walking into his dorm and lingering rather awkwardly before his own bed. Obviously there was no room for him, and yet Mike didn't seem considerate enough to move. So John just sat on the window sill, sifting his geography book from the pile of clothes and propping it open on his lap.
"So what did Victor want?" Greg wondered, going over to writing what looked like some essay for English. However it was rather out of character for Greg to be doing any homework at all, so it must be a letter to Molly or something that wouldn't impact his educational future.
"Oh the usual, Sherlock is a criminal, Sherlock is dangerous, he's going to hurt you too...It almost gets old after a while you know?" John muttered, trying to come off as if this wasn't affecting him at all. However with every accusation Victor made John was scanning his brain, trying to think of any single action of Sherlock's that would lead him to doubt such a seemingly innocent boy. Other than the incident in the stream he couldn't think of anything to justify Victor's horrible claims.
"And so what do you make of it then?" Mike wondered, craning his neck so that he could peer at John from where he longed on John's very own pillow.
"I think its rubbish of course. I mean, Sherlock wouldn't hurt a fly." John insisted flatly, hoping that the boys couldn't' detect the doubt that was so obviously lacing his words.