Sherlock oneshots

Teen Sheriarty~ bad breath p2

Continuation of the chapter before this, as promised! I'm so excited to see this book blowing up! Thanks for all the favourites and reads, it really motivates me to continue writing this book <3

It was hard to think after class. Not because of the mind numbing hour of torturous lesson, or the idiotic mannerisms of classmates. No, it was the noise.

As everyone poured out into the corridors, their voices all became inseparable within the crowd of chattering teenagers. It was hard to hear anything, your friend talking to you, the music in your headphones, the hall monitors yelling to keep in an orderly line. But for Sherlock Holmes, it was most hard to hear his thoughts.

Who else would he need to talk to other than his own racing mind? No one else was in any way as interesting.

As he pushed and shoved through the hall, holding tightly onto his books, Sherlock had one place in mind to go and think. His usual spot under the stairs. He didn't really have any friends, and anyone who was civil with him always had other friends who weren't. Not that he cared, he hated the pain of awkward small talk anyway.

He managed to get to his spot, swinging under the railing and pressing his back against the wall. As soon as the stairwell quietened to almost silence, he let himself slip down and sit. He pulled out a book and started reading, letting his thoughts eat away at the words.

Then he thought back to that boy in class. James. Suddenly reading wasn't as interesting, his mind had other plans to plague him with. He remembered the feeling of contact as he took that note, the brief moment their fingers brushed against one another. The tips of his fingers tingled as he thought about it.

Suddenly all that was on his mind was James. His soft Irish accent, his calm and swagger walk, his beautifully kept hair, his sweet face and coloured eyes. Even his brightly coloured boxers-

"Wait." Sherlock pulled his eyes open and jerked off the wall. He placed down his book and took out a pen, letting his mind race.

Colourful boxers obviously exposed, branded, luminous. Lots of product in his hair. A lot. Wait a second.. no, no he couldn't be-

"Gay.. James Moriarty is- Gay?" He whispered to himself. He had to be wrong, he didn't come across as the gay type. Though, he'd never been wrong in his deductions before. Sherlock didn't know whether to be happy or even sadder. Sure, if James was gay, he had a chance, but then again, not even a boy would want Sherlock. He knew that much.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden clunk of footsteps, followed by that laughter. Sherlock snorted in annoyance. The football team, of course.

"Hey freak! Whatcha doing down here all alone?" Brad squawked, earning a fit of obnoxious laughs from the rest of the boys. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What's it look like idiot?" He snapped.

Brad looked down at his book, Sherlock instantly realising he'd set himself up for even worse torment. "Looks like you're being a freak, freak." He smirked evilly, and Sherlock knew exactly what was next.

Before he knew it, he was being dragged out of his spot by his collar by two other boys as Brad poured the contents of his bag onto the floor. There wasn't anything important in there anyway, except-