Boarding School Secrets: A SuperWhoLock AU

SuperWhoLock

A/N: There is actually no excuse for the lateness of this chapter (actually there was i was at blue lake camp and i was grounded for a bit) but other than that it was just procrastination and I am terribly sorry.

Please don't hate me. I love you all

Also the next update will come around wednesday-ish, so be on the lookout for that.

(If any of you fangirls are feeling particularly stalkerish i got a twitter so follow me @its_mackenzieJ if you wanna know what I do with my life or just any other quick witty thing I thought of in the moment)

Also I tried to update this last night before I went to bed but apparently the chapter didn't publish but if all of a sudden there are 2 copies of this chapter please message me.

Okay, on with the story!

Chapter 37

Sherlock rolled over in his bed, squinting at the offending sunlight that was streaming through his window. He hated that it was morning, because morning meant that it was time to head back to the school, head back to the way things were between him and John. During the time that John had spent with him, the other had nearly been completely unguarded. It was irrationally wonderful how happy it made Sherlock feel when he saw a genuine smile on John's face, or heard him laugh loudly what had seemed the first time in forever. And of course, John had needlessly thanked him over and over again, which didn't take a genius to figure out the meaning behind it. Even that Dean Winchester could have figured out that John's home life was even worse than what he had let on. Sherlock sighed, flopping on his back and just letting himself sink into the comforter. It wasn't often that he slept- with a mind as fast-paced as his it was damn near impossible at times, but he couldn't remember the last time that he just relaxed.

Actually, he could. It was at the latter half of their relationship, and John was cuddled into Sherlock's chest, sleeping soundly. He remembered the way his dark blond hair tickled the sensitive skin, how warm the innocent skin on skin touches were, how perfectly his arm seemed to curl around John's waist and rest on his hip....

No! Sherlock yanked himself out of that room in his mind palace. He couldn't let himself remember things like that, it made his stomach hurt in a way that he had confused for nicotine withdrawals at first, but found out it was something much worse, and much less curable once he had stuck on those patches. Speaking of which... Sherlock reached over to his bedside table, fingertips lingering over the unopened pack of cigarettes before going over and grabbing his patches. He could do this for John. Feeling his mind clear up, Sherlock slipped out of bed, flinching when his foot touched the cold hardwood floor. He grabbed his blue robe, letting the ties hang by his sides as he tip toed down the hall, hoping not to wake anyone. He paused by the guest room, peering into the darkened room and satisfied by seeing the still form on the bed. Sherlock made his way down to the kitchen, padding softly for he was hoping not to bump into anything in the dark and wake everyone up. He reached the fridge, putting his hand on the handle when the lights flickered on, making him jump.

"Morning Sherlock, bit early for you isn't it?" She asked innocently enough, but her eyes were twinkling.

"I could say the same to you as well." Sherlock replied quickly, concentrating most of his efforts on getting his heart rate to slow down from what seemed to be 5000 beats a second.

"My body is old and my mind is young, hardly the ideal combination for sleep." She shrugged, prying Sherlock's fingers from the fridge before closing it. "And, I wanted to talk."

"8am on a Saturday is not the best time mother." He said, slowly trying to back out of the room and whatever conversation his mother was attempting to pull him into.