Habits of the Heart

IV

He hesitated before entering. Mouth dry, he attempted to moisten his lips but found he was unable. The blonde man stood outside the doorway of his own room.

Unsure whether or not to enter.

Of course he had to enter, it was his own room.

"Just come in." A deep voice echoed from the room, stirring John into action. He pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, glaring at Sherlock. The curly haired boy was seated at the table, twisting slowly.

"What the Hell was that..?" He said softly, but even in his low voice it would take an idiot not to hear the anger and even hurt that laced it.

"I don't understand." Sherlock said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Why were you talking to my sister?!"

"Why not?"

John turned and punched the wall, getting frustrated with the boy.

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out of my house. Now."

"You need me to tutor you."

"I can find someone else. I need you to get out of my house!" His voice grew louder.

Sherlock hesitated, he needed the money. He looked around quickly, desperate to find something to help him with. Something no one else understood, but the plain room gave him no clues.

"Fine." He stood up, slowly walking out of the room and out of the house.

John finally breathed as soon as the taller boy had left. He finally relaxed, finally slumped to the ground. Who did he think he was?

---

"You are not going to find any tutors better than him Watson."  His coach sighed, grading papers on his desk.

"Sir, you don't understand. I need a new tutor. I can't have him tutoring me anymore!"

"Why not?"

"...personal problems..."

His coach stopped grading and eyed him slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Its him or nothing."

---

"We need to talk."

"I thought you didn't like me anymore."

"I never liked you, but I need you to tutor me again."

"Why the sudden change if mind?"

John fidgeted, not wanting to admit to Sherlock. Rugby was the only way he will ever get a scholarship and if he can't play then he's screwed.

"I don't know, I'm busy."

"Look... I'm sorry, I really need you to tutor me. Please?" He said softly, placing his palms flat onto the table where Sherlock was reading. He looked up at John, curls bouncing slightly.

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Thanks.."

"We meet here, after school."

---

John sat at the table, silently drumming his fingers on the desk as he glanced up towards the door, then at the clock, for about the hundredth time.

Sherlock was late.

Beep beep.

The phone that was hidden in his pocket rang out in the hushed library. He quickly jumped to get his phone, lowering the volume.

Change of plans. I can't come. Tomorrow. -SH

What?! John groaned softly, collecting his things as he stood.

To: Everyone

Party at my house. Bring on the alcohol. -JW

After all that's happened, he needed to get away.

---

His head was a balloon. I swirled greatly. The music droned in his ears, but he wasn't paying attention to the words, but instead to the bodies.

Sweat and alcohol stung his nose, but he continued through the crowd, flashing a grin every now and then, until a tug on his arm.

"Hey John, let's get out of the crowd!" A female voice called out, he was more than willing to comply. With her holding onto him, he led her up the stairs and to an empty room (Some of the other ones were obviously being used).

He could barely close the door before her lips had attached to his neck.

"Ah!" He murmured, holding her waist close to his. It was all a blur after that. Clothes lying in a heap at the corner of the room. The smell of sex now intermingled with the alcohol and sweat filled the air.

For all he cared, the world could end right now and he would be okay with it.

---

His headache was unbearable the next morning. He detached himself from the limbs of what looked like to be Carrie. He light brown hair stuck to her face, she was cute.

Shame she spent her days getting drunk.

He went down the steps, waking all of the bodies that littered the floor.

"Get up."

"Get out."

"Go home."

Once everyone had left, he began to clean, throwing all the empty bottles of beer out.

"John..?"

He glanced up, dropping a glass bottle in surprise. It shattered at his feet.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I-I-" She stuttered, brushing her hair from her face.

"Oh its okay. You better get on home okay? Stay safe." He mumbled, flashing her a earm-hearted smile as she nodded and headed out.

As he bent down to clean up the glass, his head distracted him from safety. The pounding consumed all his attention and as he picked up the shards, they dug into his skin.

"Shit..." He mumbled, dropping the glass as blood pooled in his hand. Stumbling towards the bathroom, he searched for the first aid kit, dribbling blood all over the ivory sink.

"Oh John.." A soft voice called out.

Hands on his shoulders pushed him down and he glanced up, staring straight into the sunken face that belonged to his sister, Harry.