Cabinmates | Johnlock (teenlock)

Chapter 17: This Is Gospel [Final]

Cabinmates

Chapter 17: This Is Gospel

"If you love me, let me go." - This Is Gospel, Panic! At the Disco

Last Day - 9:00 AM

After hearing the news, John and Sherlock had gone back to the campsite, packing up everything that was theirs and returning to their cabin room. The rest of their group watched in silence from afar as they took down the tent, it crashing into a heap in seconds. No one dared to ask them why they were getting sent home, being too humble to put salt in the wound.

John followed Sherlock back to the cabin, his arms feeling much heavier than they should have. Neither had spoken a word as they continued to pack the rest of their belongings away. John didn't even gasp when his laptop slipped out of his numb hands, sending it crashing to the floor. He just stood there in silence, staring at the misapplied computer through cloudy eyes.

Sherlock looked over at the sound of the crash, his eyes scanning the computer on the floor, then glancing to John's expressionless face. John's laptop was John's most prized possession, and it was as if he didn't even care about it anymore. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed together slightly as he stared at John's expressionless face, the nonchalance not fitting his character at all.

"John?" Sherlock called in a small voice, as if just the sound would break him. "You alright?"

John let out a hoarse laugh. "Oh yes, just peachy," he sneered, and he knew that he shouldn't have snapped like that. It wasn't like it was Sherlock's fault, but he couldn't help himself.

Sherlock sighed, turning his back to John to continue his packing, but for some reason his hands wouldn't move, wouldn't stray from the loose grip he had on his bag. "I'm sorry," he breathed, his head hung low.

John turned, his eyes tracing over Sherlock's back. His shoulders seemed so tense, so unlike Sherlock. "It's not your fault," John finally spoke, his voice much softer than before.

"Yes it is. I--" Sherlock stopped himself as if he were to say something he would regret. Then, with a cautious tone, he continued. "I planned that to happen."

"I know you did, stupid. Why else would you have brought--"

"No, you don't understand!" Sherlock turned around, glaring at John. It was like the first time they had met, his eyes so ice cold John could feel the bitterness. "I made sure we would get caught."

For a moment, John couldn't feel anything. His body felt completely numb. Then everything starting to ache and hurt. It was as if he was thrown into a frozen lake, invisible needles stabbing at him from every direction. He couldn't move. He was paralyzed.

Sherlock broke eye contact after not getting a response. He thought John would have snapped or have been ignorant, but he just stood there in shock. "I knew Mycroft had people walking the trails a bit after curfew to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be," Sherlock began to explain. "I... kept the lantern on so someone would see our shadows and report to Mycroft."

"...Why?" John was surprised how broken his voice sounded. He was surprised at how it rolled off his tongue, tasting like venom. He watched as Sherlock looked back up to him, his mouth a thin line.

"To... not run," Sherlock finally spoke, sounding surprised that John didn't already know.

"What!?" John sneered. He was glad no one else was in the cabin except them then, because he was sure they would've heard him. "That's why? Because you didn't want to be in some fucking competition!?" His blood was boiling in anger.