These are the Questions

Chapter 6

"What is your favorite color?"

***

When John wakes up, he is alone, and he feels as though he has been all along. He sits there in his bed and feels that he should wait- which is ridiculous, nothing is coming, and so he doesn't, he gets up and gets dressed and eats breakfast, just like the day before. Alison tells him good morning, and asks him how he slept.

He could mention that a boy slipped into his bed last night, and that they really should have locks on their windows, but that may cause alarm, so he doesn't. He replies that he slept very good, because he did. And then he leaves for school, because if he doesn't he'll be late and Mrs. Lestrade will glare at him, as she tends to do.

Which makes him think about school and what that entails. Because last night, Sherlock was there. They had finally crossed paths, it was the lunar eclipse, and John has never been very good at science, so he doesn't know exactly what that means, or how long it will last.

Please god, he prays, let it last.

***

"What is your favorite color?"

"I don't think I have one."

***

Sherlock and John do not walk to class together. They do not hang out at lunch, and they do not speak. A part of John panics that that was it, one night only, never again. That part wishes that he would have known.

Another part of him thinks he imagined the whole experience. Which is crazy, though. Only insane people imagine things and then believe for it to be true. So he tells himself to stop believing that it happened.

He is sitting in the cafeteria, and looking at him. He tells himself that that beautiful creature had never snuck into his house, never climbed into his bed, never laid his head on his shoulder. He tells himself that Sherlock is a god, and that they do not concern themselves with mere mortals such as himself.

He almost believes it.

***

People do not know where to place John Watson.

He notices this. How every single person here is classed. Everyone is either given a label or has to try very hard to achieve one. If not labeled, you are pushed thoughtlessly to the side; an outcast, a freak.

He reminds himself a bit of a puzzle piece in the wrong box. He doesn't even try; he knows he won't fit.

***

Greg Lestrade isn't half bad.

He plops down across from John at lunch, which is slightly terrifying in itself. Greg is the captain of the rugby team, people love him; John cannot imagine what he is here for, but it probably isn't very good.

"Sorry, mate, mind if I sit here? Getting a bit tired of those idiots," he asks as chews on a fry-chip-and gestures behind himself to the table he was sitting at.

John doesn't know how to respond. "Uhm. No, no. Not at all," he says, clearing his voice.

"Thanks. I'm Greg," he says, wiping his hand on his shirt and holding it out to John.

"John Watson," he says, hesitantly shaking the offered hand.

Lestrade pulls his hand back and looks thoughtful for a moment, cocking his head at John. "You American, John?"

Here we go. "Yes."

He chews on his food for a minute before nodding. "Hmm," he says. "Cool."