Johnlock - Do I Wanna Know?

2 - Moving To Someplace Better

Sherlock slipped into the classroom a couple minutes shy of the bell, figuring it would be nice to beat the traffic jam in the halls.

"Afternoon, sir,"

Mr. Watson paused from laying papers on desks to look up and smile. "Good afternoon, Sherlock,"

Sherlock sat down at his small table in he back of the room, and began quietly pulling out his supplies.

John glanced at him, brow furrowing as he saw a feint bruise under Sherlock's left eye. He slowly paced to his students desk and sat on it, smiling at him reassuringly.

"Are you alright?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Didn't you ask me that yesterday?"

"In a sense. But today is a new day, I was just wondering if you were still fine."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

John shrugged, tapping his index finger slightly underneath his left eye. "What's that from?"

"Um, a friend and I... Got in a fight, it's no big deal."

John nodded, pretending he was fooled. "Sorry to hear that,"

Sherlock shrugged. "Oh well,"

Mr. Watson stood, fixed his glasses. "I'm going to need you to stay after class with me today,"

"What? Why?"

John handed him a paper. "To study hard,"

Sherlock's cheeks flushed as he read his test score. 32/77.

"Shit," he whispered, rubbing his temple.

~

"What'ya say we go back to my flat? My dad's out of town, I know where he keeps his good whiskey," Greg beamed.

Sherlock smiled. "Lestrade, another afternoon underage drinking with you sounds great, but I have to stay behind today."

"What? You never turn down my dad's whiskey,"

"Well I just can't today, sorry."

Greg groaned, watching the rest of his classmates squeeze through the door.

"Fine, maybe tomorrow. Dad's not getting back until Friday."

"Alright."

Lestrade sulked away, pretending not to relish the fact he'd have all the whiskey to himself.

"You, and Greg? Got in a fight?" John asked.

"Greg?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "Oh, oh, Lestrade. Um, yeah, we did."

"Huh,"

He half smiled. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Unfortunately, no. I do not,"

Sherlock smirked. "Lestrade and I do fight, we've never hit each other though. I only pickpocket him when he's annoying."

"How'd you get the shiner then?"

"I, um, ran into a door,"

"...Was that door made of fists?"

Sherlock looked down. "I'm not a good liar, am I?"

John chuckled. "No, you're not. But I don't know a 17 year old boy who is,"

Sherlock laughed. "True,"

"...Why don't you tell the actual truth then?"

"I... I'd just rather not, Mr. Watson."

John nodded. "If you ever change your mind, I'd be glad to talk or listen, or help in anyway."