Secrets Aren't Made Slowly

The Wrath Of Mrs. Donavan

After class John lingered near his desk on the pretenses of finding a pencil in his backpack, all while he was almost too obviously trying to wait until all the other students had filed out of the door, so as to give Mr. Holmes and he privacy. When finally they were alone John left his backpack on his desk and walked over to where Mr. Holmes sat, still slouched and looking miserable even as John approached him. John almost felt awkward, and maybe a little bit guilty, however his curiosity got the better of him, that and his care for the poor man. He looked quite miserable, and despite his newly washed clothes and his shining black curls he seemed to be quite unclean, almost as if there was a residue of filth that was still clinging to his skin from his days of absence.
"Mr. Holmes are you alright?" John wondered in a soft voice, to which Mr. Holmes just sighed heavily, letting his head fall back onto his chair and looking at John with some strain.
"Why don't you just call me Sherlock already?" he murmured, blinking for a long while as if trying to close his eyes and pretend that John wasn't standing right there.
"Is that your first name?" John wondered curiously, staring at Mr. Holmes and wondering what type of horrible name Sherlock was.
"No, it's just something I made up on the spot. Yes it's my first name, and it's a lot less effort than spelling out my last name as if you're trying to be formal." Sherlock grumbled, to which John just nodded rather uncomfortably.
"Yes alright, I can do that." he agreed.
"Now what's wrong with me, well a whole myriad of things, let us just think." Sherlock said almost sarcastically, sitting forward in his chair with some effort and crossing his hands in front of him. If John wasn't so confused he might have said that Sherlock looked attentive, and yet in all honesty the man was probably just high.
"You said you had the flu?" John guessed.
"No, Janine said I had the flu. That's my wife, by the way, if you needed to know. My lovely wife, my lovely...lying wife." Sherlock groaned, spinning slowly in his chair and yet only far enough so that his arms could still stretch towards the desk, his feet scuttling around on the floor below as his torso twisted, making it look almost like he was dancing in place.
"So you weren't sick?" John guessed.
"Oh no, well...not physically I suppose. I was high the first day, high the second...high and miserable the third. Lonely for the first two days, but then I got rather...sufficient company." Sherlock sighed heavily, raising his beautiful eyes up to John as if this was somehow his fault.
"Victor?" John guessed.
"Hmm Victor. And you know him, yes; you heard his great big speech on how he just can't keep his hands off of me? Well it's true, he really can't. It took all of five minutes until he had me squirming underneath him." Sherlock spat. John just blinked, not really expecting the man to get into that much detail, and yet that was all the confirmation John needed that the man was still plenty high.
"Mr. Holmes...Sherlock. Are you high right now?" John wondered curiously, to which Sherlock just smiled widely, nodding as if this was something to be proud of.
"Oh yes, yes Mr. Watson, and please...arrest me if you will! And if not, well, I advise you just leave me alone. I might say something I'll regret, if I haven't already." Sherlock grumbled, falling back into his chair and letting his arms dangle towards the floor, looking rather long and unproportioned as he sat there with a frown on his face.
"Well excuse me if I'm kind of worried about you, you're not in your right state of mind." John decided, very tempted to walk around the desk and take Sherlock's pulse, as if that was somehow going to help.
"Not in my...well John I'm insulted? You don't think I'm in my right state of mind? I am perfectly...well ya, I suppose you're right." Sherlock grumbled, spinning this time in a complete circle before whining some more while his back was turned.
"Sherlock maybe you ought to just go home." John advised.
"And, John, maybe you ought to just go to class. Even cops have to get their education, right? I think it's long past second bell, you don't want Mrs. Donavan to come chasing you down." Sherlock advised with a sarcastic little click of his tongue. With a panicked start John realized that he was right, he looked at the clock and saw that it was about five minutes after the start of class, and Mrs. Donavan was much too strict to let that slide.
"Oh my goodness." John murmured, dashing over to his backpack all while Sherlock just mocked him. He really was rather annoying when he was high, was he not?
"Go Johnny go!" Sherlock sang, all while John just waved his farewell and dashed down the hallway towards Mrs. Donavan's classroom. It seemed an awful long way away, however somehow he made it, panting as he threw open the door and saw about twenty or so judgmental faces turned towards him, well twenty one, including Mrs. Donavan. And yet she didn't seem all too judgmental, in fact she seemed angrier, looking up at the clock as if trying to clarify the time he had just arrived.
"And where, Mr. Watson, have you been?" she wondered with a scowl. John tried to smile innocently, closing the door softly behind him and looking over to his seat as if wishing it was possible for him to just sit there quietly and avoid whatever punishment he was about to receive.
"I was um, with Mr. Holmes. Talking about the calculus homework." John said quickly, creating a rather convincing half lie. Mrs. Donavan didn't look too impressed, in fact she set down her white board marker and crossed her arms angrily, tapping her fingers against her arm and shaking her head in disappointment.
"Mr. Watson this is not your first time lingering about in the hallways and then arriving late, I've given you plenty of warnings before." she pointed out with a rather horrible face, something of an 'I told you so'. And yet she had never given him a warning, John couldn't remember one single time, but he didn't complain.
"I wasn't in the hallways, I told you I was with Mr. Holmes!" John insisted, and despite the usual stony silence of a student getting yelled at John heard some daring giggles. Girls, most likely, wishing they could have the same sort of solitude with that man.
"Do you have a pass?" Mrs. Donavan challenged, still not looking very convinced.
"No I don't have a pass; we didn't realize that it had gotten this late." John admitted, which was of course another half lie. He didn't realize it had gotten this late and yet he was too rushed and Sherlock was too stoned to realize that he might need a pass so as to avoid the wrath of Mrs. Donavan.
"Well then maybe we both should go down there and ask him." Mrs. Donavan suggested once more. For a moment that sounded like a good idea, until then John realized that if they went down to Sherlock's classroom without notice the man might already be passed out on his desk. That or, like he had warned of before, he might say something he might ultimately regret. Either way John wasn't entirely fond of the idea of rule abiding Mrs. Donavan marching down there and seeing what Sherlock was up to when he was this high, so John just sighed heavily.
"Oh alright, you caught me. I was in the hallways." John sighed heavily, although he was almost sure that most of the class knew that was a lie. However they all just chuckled as Mrs. Donavan's face turned an entirely new shade of magenta.
"Detention, Mr. Watson, this Monday evening." She said proudly, to which John just gaped.
"Wait, detention?" he clarified with a gasp.
"You heard me, detention. I will tell the principal to set up a room for you, and you will sit there quietly until you have thought plenty about why you are not to roam about the school whenever you please. And now, if you will, take your seat and get out your homework. We are going over it." Mrs. Donavan instructed, gesturing to John's desk with a proud scowl, as if she was very proud of herself for having disciplined so well. John was rather taken aback with such a punishment, and so he didn't argue, he didn't dare. He just slouched over to his seat obediently, sitting down heavily and looking about to see if anyone else thought this was complete and utter rubbish. And yet they all seemed to be quite content with watching Mrs. Donavan as she went over the homework, almost as if they were trying to keep from getting a detention themselves. When class had ceased John left with a formal detention notice, well not very formal as it was written on a sticky note, and yet it was enough to make him hang his head and curse Sherlock for being so distracting. He knew that it would be pointless to return to that classroom, and so he continued to his locker and then to Jim and Irene, so as to tell them the bad news. However they seemed more thrilled than disappointed, as if John's breaking the rules was just so exciting that it was worth a celebratory whoop.
"Oh our little rebel, looking at you, getting your first detention! Oh Jim, I think we should take a picture!" Irene insisted with a laugh, patting John on the back and telling him how much she had wished she could've been there.
"Stop it, come on this is horrible! It'll go on my permanent record!" John defended miserably.
"Oh who cares about permanent records? We've got more important things to worry about, don't we Jim? In fact, we ought to go see him now, tell him...the good news." Irene said with a grin.
"Who are you going to go tell?" John demanded.
"Not your good news, obviously. Why would anyone else care that you got a detention?" Jim asked, however both he and Irene giggled a little bit more, as if they knew of someone who was all too caught up in John's social life, or lack thereof.
"You guys are so weird." John decided, and that really wasn't a euphemism. He really thought that they were just permanently messed up; probably from all the drugs they were taking at such a young age. But who got excited over a detention? Like, really?
"That's just part of our charm Johnny boy, part of our charm." Jim assured with a large smile, putting his arm around John's shoulders as if they were really good pals, however John shook him off and made something of a hissing sound.
"Oh Jim, you've made him uncomfortable." Irene giggled.
"You need to lighten up John, get a little bit gayer. With men like Mr. Holmes crushing after you I think it's in your best interest." Jim giggled, putting his arm around Irene instead (she leaned into his shoulder, but then again she was gay too, so their sexualities sort of canceled each other out).
"Mr. Holmes is not crushing on me, that's a horrible thing to say." John snapped, to which both Irene and Jim giggled once more, as if they knew something John didn't and weren't intending on telling him.
"Okay John, okay. Well you have a lovely weekend, we'll see you...oh I guess on Monday." Jim decided with a shrug, leading Irene off down the hallway as she waved her goodbye. John was left just staring miserably down the hallway, watching them as they left before looking back at his sticky note and sighing. He knew that this wasn't going to be good, not good at all.