Secrets Aren't Made Slowly

The Feeling Is Mutual

John had nowhere to go but the cafeteria, and when he arrived he saw that he was destined to sit alone. There were three chairs that he shared with his two other friends, and yet they were both absent and so he just sat there alone, looking like more of a loser than could be imagined. However he had something on the rest of the student body, something that only he could admit to having. He had Mr. Holmes. Oh what a prize he had won, what an accomplishment! Everyone in this room was most likely aching over that beautiful man and it was John's privilege entirely to have him as his own. Well it was a miracle, truly. And Sherlock's words today, they meant something, they did something. They helped ease John's mind about what had happened, even seeing him here today, looking well dressed, well groomed, and perfectly sane reminded John that it wasn't just some horrible man he had given his heart to. It was Mr. Holmes, it was the equivalent of the Gods it was just...well it was perfect. Things were playing out how they were meant to be, oh in less than a year this all would become normal again, they only had to hide it for that long and then they could be free! Love was imminent between the two of them, love was destined to happen. Sherlock was right, their timeline hadn't been completed in the correct order and yet it had been completed all the same. They were on track with their love, they were exactly where they were expected to be, and all that had to happen was that night. And oh, who knew about the possibilities? Who knew what could amount from here? When the bell rang John hadn't even gotten half way into his sandwich, and yet he raced as quickly as he could to Mr. Holmes's classroom, for he wanted to get there before anyone else did so that he could share at least a little bit more time with the man. However despite his speed John was beaten by one or two of his peers, the horrible book worms that thought by being the first in the room they would somehow get on the teacher's good side. Apparently they were mistaken, for none of them received the smile John did when he walked in. Mr. Holmes was seated at his desk pleasantly, leaning back in his chair with his legs on his desk, his long legs slightly bent at the knees so that his shined shoes could have over the desk. He was reading a book with all the concentration in the world, his white face was contorted so that his eyebrows were slanted and his lips went thin, his fingers wrapping around the book's spine and his eyes skimming each and every word with precision. It would seem that only one thing could bring his attention away from that book, for despite his interest in the plot he was so easily dragged away by John's simple entrance. They shared a moment of eye contact, Sherlock smiled while John's cheeks went red; for once more he was reminded of how devotedly he loved that man. He looked so beautiful sitting there now, so agonizingly attractive that John was almost tempted to just march right up there and jump on top of him, who cared about the other kids in the room, they would certainly enjoy a good scandal at this point, it was a lot more interesting than calculus. Oh and they would be shown, yes they would be shown how much Sherlock loved John in return! For even in the midst of a brewing atrocity Sherlock would kiss him, he was love him back because that was just what he needed to do. No matter the audience, Sherlock would take any opportunity presented to him. And yet just like that poor John's fantasies were interrupted, one of those insolent children sneezed and like that John blinked, Sherlock blinked, and their gaze was ended. John returned to his seat while Sherlock returned to his novel, and they were both then left in a pitiful state of hopelessness, for they understood that despite their love for each other they really had to be careful. It wasn't something they could just flaunt around; it wasn't something they could display. Terror was in the eyes of the beholder, and scandal lay in the hands of the idiot. John was no idiot, and so he stayed quiet. Surprisingly the tests were graded, because Sherlock got to his feet almost as soon as the last student walked in, holding the stack in his hands and telling the class once more just how disappointed he was in their performances. Now of course he really had no reason to hold any faith in them, for his teaching alone was enough to set them up for failure. However he seemed as though he didn't see this coming, and even as he walked about the desks handing the tests back he seemed to be brooding over just how poorly everyone had done. When he arrived in John's row the boy could do nothing but keep his head down, for some reason he felt as though the moment Sherlock reached him the spotlights would turn in his direction, and it would take only one keen observer to notice the mutual blush in their cheeks, it would take one person with a set of eyes to realize that there was something there that shouldn't be. And so he kept his head down, fixed upon the desk, and waited for the sound of Sherlock's impending footsteps near him. When finally he was aware of the man standing right next to his desk John braved a quick glance up, seeing that instead of the smile he had almost wished to see he was met as ever with the stony face that the rest of the students had received. Obviously Sherlock had the same precautions on his mind, for he simply handed over John's test (as promised with only one wrong answer) and continued on. John cleared his throat rather awkwardly and yet he knew that there really was nothing more for him to do, and so like the rest of his fellow students he looked over his test. Unlike the rest of his fellow students there wasn't a tear in his eye. However on page two, oh, he was quick to snatch it! A blue sticky note, hidden between the folds of the pages! In a mad rush of adrenaline John hid the note in his palm, curling his fingers protectively around it so that there were no witnesses to the message left for him. As soon as Sherlock started up class John very discreetly opened his palm to reveal the sticky note, written in his beautiful handwriting as promised, it read coffee after school? A very straight forward note, and yet a note that caused John's heart to pound unusually fast. He glanced up at Sherlock to find the man writing equations on the board, his back turned so that John couldn't make direct eye contact. And yet he knew the answer, the answer was very obviously...
"Mr. Watson?" Sherlock asked suddenly.
"Yes!" John exclaimed, the very word he was going to say anyway. However this response, very embarrassingly, was a bit loud. There was a collective chuckle amongst his fellow students, however Sherlock simply grinned from the board, holding up a piece of chalk proudly in his long fingers.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm." Sherlock teased, to which John just blushed and the class laughed once more.
"Yes, my apologies Mr. Holmes, you caught me daydreaming." John admitted with an apologetic shrug.
"I'll pretend you never admitted to that, Mr. Watson, if you can come up here and solve this problem for the class. Just one on the test, so you can bring yours up if it will help." Sherlock offered. John nodded nervously, clearing his throat and getting to his feet as he stuck the sticky note safety into his pocket and grabbed his test. The class was stuck in an undeniable state of boredom, however they watched with tired eyes as John got up and walked to the front of the class, accepting the piece of chalk that was offered to him. Neither of them dared any hand brushing or even smiling, and so with a quick nod of appreciation John went to the board and Sherlock stepped aside to watch him work. It was a difficult problem, that could not be denied, however John solved it as he had on the test. It was only too easy now, when he could see his past methods and solutions, however in the midst of the agony of test taking it had almost cost John a couple of tears of frustration. Thankfully, however, he had gotten it correct. And to think, back when he took this test it was Monday afternoon, back when he had no idea what Monday evening would hold. Of course at this point he had some ideas of how he would have liked the evening to go, and yet nothing he could have ever imagined would have helped lead him up to the final conclusion. When John was done he turned to see Sherlock's approving face, the man's head was bobbing up and down and that was most certainly a sign of admiration. John smiled rather sheepishly, handing the chalk back. This time there was finger contact, not enough to make either of them go absolutely crazy but certainly enough to make John's heart beat at an abnormally quick rate.
"Very good, Mr. Watson, very good. You may go back to your seat." Sherlock said with a smile, a smile that of course made John's knees go clammy, and so he decided that it would be best to scramble back to his chair before he fell over like a fool in front of his classmates. He felt Mr. Holmes's eyes still trained on the back of his head, and yet he made an effort to ignore them. He made an effort to pretend he was just one of the masses, and it really was beginning to get difficult to pretend to be mediocre. Not only was he the only one in this class that was competent, he was the only one in this class who had bestowed upon him the most luxurious of all prizes, the highest of all honors. The very heart of the man who stood before them now, and the attention of his smile, that was still playing across his face as he continued on explaining the equation.