Opening His Heart. TEENLOCK!JOHNLOCK.

4. Stop.

The bus came to a stop soon, the students piling out of the vehicle laughing and talking.
It was friday, so most was in a good mood.

"Well-? Are you going to move or not?" A grumpy voice spoke up, startling John who quickly got up from the seat.

Sherlock hoisted his bag over his shoulder, pushing past the blond before exiting the bus with no words.

He heard John say bye to the driver while Sherlock had grabbed his earphones, sticking them into his ears, walking on towards the school with the crowd of students.

He didn't see John until the third lesson.

Sherlock was sitting in the chemistry class, waiting for the lesson to start. He could only spot Sally across the room - at least it wasn't Moriarty.

And then the door opened to the class, causing Sherlock to lazily raised his head, before regognizing his new neighbour by the oak door with a nervous smile.

Sherlock quickly glanced around the room, and if you already didn't predict, only empty seat was next to the young detective.

The two boys shared a look - which surely lasted more than three second, for Sherlock's suprise, but he shook himself out of it quickly.

He watched the teen stroll over to his desk, with a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck. Huh, act of nervousness, a habit.

"There's no other -."

"Just sit down."

The sandy haired boy looked a little suprised, but did so, slumping down into the chair, taking out his books while Sherlock stared out of the window, zoning out.

*

"Sherlock Holmes!" The sharp voice of Mrs Adley fumed, John shaking the boy's shoulder with a quite tight grip to which the dark haired boy opened his eyes, looking around with a confused expression.

Did he fall asleep?

"And what was it that I just said, Mr Holmes?"

"That - lesson's over?"

"Detention."

Sherlock's face fell, if it was even possible for him to look more depressed. John gave a light pat on Sherlock's shoulder to which he looked at the older boy with his same confused expression.

"That has to suck."

"No shit."

The rest of the lesson went on peacefully, especially that Sherlock still wasn't paying attention to the teacher. John did.

He answered guestions, listened, scribbled down notes.

Sherlock ... watched him.
Not in a creepy way, and not fully staring at him. Just peeking at him a bit from time to time.

But then he got caught.

John looked back at him and Sherlock turned his gaze immediately away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Wait, what? That's not even possible.
Was he ... blushing?

He put his right arm up, leaning his head against it, shielding his face from his deskmate, letting him only see a head of messy curls.

*

The day had been slower than a snail on a monday morning.
Sherlock let out a sigh, taking his books from the locker. Most students we're gone by now - but Sherlock, had another detention to attend.

"Ey, Loser." Before the curl head could whirl around, his jaw hit the cold metal of his locker, letting out a quiet groan.

"Cat got your tongue, Holmes?" The Irish accented voice spoke up, Sherlock's wrists tightly in his grip.