Lonely, loved, betrayed.

Awkwardly dreaming.

A/N- So, I apologize for A) The short chapters. I know what it's like to read a fanfic and have them not complete it fast enough or whatever. B) for at least the next chapter. I'm on these meds for this stupid thing eating at my stomach, and I don't know what these will do to me, so I'm sorry if things don't make sense. I'll go back and edit anything I publish. C) if my fanfic sucks, I'M SO SORRY THIS IS MY FIRST PUBLISHED ONE any-who- onward with the story!

Once the kids finally arrived at the airport, it was obvious things were going to get difficult. First, their scheduled plane was delayed and then they were offered a different ride, but it could only take half the kids. Seeing as this was their only option, the kids debated on who would go first. There was lots of yelling at one another, saying things like "I think the girls should go. That seems fair." to which they received "Girls shouldn't go first because what if it's dangerous?!" It went on like this for a good thirty minutes before Mycroft finally stepped in, effectively shutting everyone up. 

"It has come to my attention that there is an obvious problem.The plane only has enough room for about twenty of us, and seeing as there are twenty-five left, not including adults, or the ones who were rich enough to buy a different ticket on their own, it has been decided that my brother will choose five students to ride in our private jet, as well as at least one adult, and the rest of you will go on the plane." everyone turned to Sherlock who gave his brother a glare that, if looks could kill, would've killed him.

"John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Gavin-" 

"Greg." John corrected. 

"Right, Greg, and-"

"I said five, Sherlock." 

"I know, I'm kicking you off. Anderson, you're welcome to join." Anderson gave him a questioning look before slowly nodding his head. Mycroft sighed and then took the rest of the kids, who were all complaining, to board the plane. The five that were left all followed Sherlock to see a black jet, not much bigger than a normal plane, waiting for them. When they stepped inside, they all gasped at the set up. Light brown leather interior with black fridges between every seat and multi-colored lights shinning around the jet. Sherlock smirked when he saw everyone's amazed looks. "Sit anywhere you'd like, just make it fast so we can take off. There are bathrooms over there," he pointed over his shoulder, "and the telly's are a lot better here. Also, we have these people that will wait on your every need, just don't call them waiters or waitresses, they will get violent." Everyone shuffled uncomfortably at this, before going to a seat. John sat next to a window and pulled out his sketch pad again, and was about to draw when he noticed someone standing next to him. 

"Mind if I sit here?" Sherlock asked.

"Not at all!" John said, a bit more excited than he should've been. He looked away before Sherlock could notice the red creeping up his face, and mindlessly began to draw. After almost an hour, he heard Sherlock clear his throat.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Why- why are you drawing me?" he seemed to whisper. John looked at his drawing and realized that he was in fact drawing Sherlock. 

"I- I- it's not you, I mean-" he could feel the panic begin as he stuttered. 

"John." Sherlock was close enough that John could feel his hot breath on his neck. "John, it's okay." he let out a low chuckle that John found incredibly sexy. He looked over at Sherlock, sure that his face was more red than a bloody tomato, and gasped at how close he was to the taller boy. Sherlock smiled and slowly leaned in. 

"Sh-Sherlock." he sighed as the space between them grew smaller and smaller. 

"John, wake up!" Sherlock whispered.

"I am awake." he laughed. 

"John! John, wake up!" he was suddenly jolted up by someone shaking him. It was Sherlock. Had it all been a dream? John rubbed his eyes sluggishly as he looked at Sherlock, who was smirking. 

"What?" 

"You were having a dream about me?" 

"W-what? Uh, um, no!" 

"Then why did you say my name?" his smirk grew wider as John frantically searched for something to say. 

"Excuse me? Would you like anything to drink?" A tall lady in a red dress suit walked up, and John was more than relieved to see her.  

"Yes, water please." she smiled as she walked away. He quickly turned away from the still smirking Sherlock and looked out the window. "Why the hell am I dreaming about Sherlock bloody Holmes?!" he sighed, covering his hands with his face. "This is going to be one hell of a camping trip." he gratefully took the water when the red suited lady brought it back to him and then noticed his sketch pad on the ground. He picked it up and went to the page he had it opened it to before he fell asleep and gasped at what he was drawing. He had drawn Sherlock after all. "Damn it!" he whispered as he quickly closed his sketch pad and put it away, not looking away from the window for the rest of the flight.