Johnlock all the way (Johnlock oneshots)

#2 Oh, Professor...

Prom day arrived, and Sherlock did everything in his power to avoid going. He really tried! Damn Mycroft for finding out! Mrs. Hudson encouraged him to attend, saying, "You might find a partner there, or at the very least, have a good time." He thought "I already have a partner, still imaginary, but I don't want anyone else."

As he entered the crowded room, he noticed John sitting at a table with the History and P.E teacher, drinking, chatting and laughing. He gulped, then stood at the door frame for an hour before getting bored of rejecting girls and admiring John from distance, so he decided to walk home instead. He would have some alone time as his family, including Mrs. Hudson, left for a trip.

John saw Sherlock leaving and a strange feeling captured him, probably caused by the alcohol or the idea of never seeing him again after graduating, but he stood up and apologized for leaving so soon. He took his bike and followed the student towards his house.

As Sherlock stood at the door, contemplating who could be knocking, he rolled his eyes, assuming it might be some foolish teenagers attempting to prank him. However, curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to open the door. To his astonishment, he nearly fainted when he saw the Biology teacher standing there.

"Listen, we need to talk," John said, his voice filled with determination.

Sherlock was taken aback by the serious tone in John's voice. He hesitated for a moment, then gestured for John to come inside.

._.

"I don't know where to start."
"At the beginning, please. Like we started at the heart chapter..."
"Shut up, this is serious. I have no idea what has gotten into me lately, but I'm having this feeling..."

"Mr. Watson, I too want to say something similar..."

" You can call me John, we're not at school."
"Then I insist on you calling me Sherlock."
"You know what I would like to call you?"
"I only hope it's a cliché line."
"Mine."

._.

In the morning, John woke up in an unfamiliar bed. He closed his eyes and suddenly remembered everything. It all started with a conversation, he confessed first, Sherlock leaned in first, and it all ended up... here. He sighed, then quickly dressed up. He looked one last time at the sleeping student next to him.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm so sorry, but this shouldn't have happened."

"That's it? You're leaving? Just like that? "

"I'm not, I... Please, don't make this any harder than it already is! I am your teacher, for God's sake!"

._.

On Monday, John found himself in a bad mood. Throughout the entire weekend, he had tried to push aside the events of Friday, but to no avail. He didn't even feel like teaching, knowing he would have to face Sherlock's melancholic gaze. The best course of action, he thought, was to have the class take a test.

._.

John sat at his desk in the teacher's room, with the pile of tests lying in front of him. He had already corrected half of them (all above 80%, which at least satisfied him). Once he saw a piece of paper with a distinctive calligraphic handwriting, he immediately knew who it belonged to, however, instead of the perfectly solved exercises, there stood only one sentence in the middle of the paper: "Goodbye, John."

._.

Three years later, after a divorce and a psychosomatic limp caused by stress, John desperately searched for new job. He has had enough of teaching students, none of them ever so bright or gorgeous as Sherlock was. All the summer he tried to get applied, without any result. In addition, the owner of the flat he was renting increased the fee, therefore, he had to search for a new place to live at, too.