One Shots With My Ships

Johnlock

Warning- this story will consist of 1) smut and 2)self harm.

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It never really bothered me, the way people would stare at my old scars. Mostly because they were just that; old scars. I mean, sure, they were caused by me, my pain showing through them, but hell, I can't take it back. And I didn't really want to. At least, that's what I thought until I saw him staring at my most noticeable scar. The new kid at school. Yeah, very cliche, I know. But how could you not notice him and the way his dark curly hair fell just below his stunning blue eyes, or the way his tight black shirt hugged all his muscles just right, and his too tight black skinny jeans framing his ass. He had that 'bad boy' persona, which I never found too attractive, but it just fit him.

"Class, this Mr. Sherlock 'olmes. 'E's a senior that just moved 'ere from Chesire. Please, give 'em a wonderful greeting!" My teacher, who's name I couldn't remember for the life me, exclaimed. Everyone was looking at him, probably expecting some sort of smart ass remark, only to be met with complete silence. "Well, sine you're 'ere so late, you only 'ave one person to pick as your partner. John Watson? Please, 'elp 'em catch up with us, yeah?" I shuddered at her clearly fake accent that I'm assuming was supposed to be British, but sounded more like a thick Scottish-American-Wanna-Be-British type. I nodded and slid my notes over to him as he sat down next to me.

"I'm John. We're not that far into this math equation, so if you try hard enough, you won't have any trouble, mate." He simply nodded his head and copied the beginning of my chicken-scratch notes. Then he looked up at the board and smiled, quickly looking down to the assignment that had to be finished by the end of class. I watched in awe as he quickly finished it. "Bloody Hell." I whispered, earning confused look from him. I quickly looked down and began working on the last problem we had to do.

"You're doing that wrong, mate." I looked up at him in surprise, shocked by how close our faces were now, and quickly rolled down my sleeve. "You didn't carry the twelve." He smirked. I groaned and looked at my paper, and sure enough, I'd forgotten to carry the stupid twelve. I hated math.

"Thank you." I mumbled.

"What are your next classes?" He asked, sliding me his schedule. I knew mine by heart, seeing as it was the beginning of the second term, and compared them.

"We have the same physical ed class, same lunch hour, and same science and home room." I stated finally. So, we had most of our classes together. Maybe now I could have some form of a social life. Nah, he wouldn't want to hangout with me.

"Alright class, turn in your assignments! After you do that, your free to do what you want, so long as you make it to your next class." Our teacher shrieked. God, she was so-

"Preppy much?" I heard the boy next to me whisper. I chuckled quietly before gathering both our papers and walking over to her desk. She smiled at me and took them, nodding in thanks as she began to grade them. I turned back around only to see that some blonde haired, big breasted chick was now sitting in my spot. I rolled my eyes at her careless flirting. I slowly walked over and cleared my throat, earning a glare from her.

"What do you want, Mr. Emo?" She teased.

"I want you to stop eye fucking him and save it for later." I snapped at her.

"Why? So you can have him to yourself? Yeah, we all know you're gay. Which is bloody disgusting. Leave, before you spread your disease to the hot kids with friends." Damn her. I angrily grabbed my bag and stormed out of the room, heading straight to the washroom. I turned on the cold water, splashing it on my face before looking up at the mirror. God, I hated myself. I hated the way my face looked, they color of my eyes, my messy hair. I hated how fat I always looked. But I didn't hate the scars on my wrist. I pulled my bag off my shoulder and rummaged through it, finding the closest thing I had to a friend; my blade. Without thinking twice, I rolled up my sleeve and dragged the cold piece of metal against my skin, watching as the blood trickled down my arm. I repeats this action again and again, not thinking about anything except for the fact that I could control this. I could finally control something in my life-