For Only You (Teenlock!/Johnlock)

Chapter 3: Moments

John's P.O.V

"Fucking hell, Sherlock! What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled as I entered our room. After going down for breakfast alone, scared fucking shitless, I was beyond furious to find Sherlock fucking Holmes smoking in our room! Damn him for looking so gorgeous whilst destroying his own lungs after leaving me in the lurch.

Sighing in irritation, I quickly grabbed the cigarette from his hand and put it out on an old magazine. He sent daggers my way, as though I was the one in the wrong, slowly killing myself with a cancer stick.

"What was that, John?" he asked, the same coldness coating his voice as he stood up, looming over me. I felt my heart rate quicken as he leaned closer, trying to intimidate me, our faces only millimeters apart. I rolled onto the balls of my feet so I could be on more even ground, which only resulted in bringing us closer, making my head spin unpleasantly.

I growled in frustration, "I was stopping us from being kicked out, Sherlock. You don't seriously think that they'd let you get away with it, do you?" Sherlock just gave me the 'are you trying to be funny or is this just another part of being normal' glare.

"Don't be so dull, John. I've been smoking for two years and they are yet to complain," he smirked. He actually fucking smirked at the fact he had not been noticed as he destroyed himself from the inside out.

"Really, Sherlock.. do you think that's clever? Hmm? You do know you're rotting your lungs right now? You might not understand feelings, but you're still bloody human. You need to breathe." Despite the anger in my voice, my shoulders slumped. I felt powerless.

"Breathing? Breathing's boring."

"It's also necessary, you idiot," I smirked, despite myself. For someone with an IQ that was probably the largest on Earth, he could be shockingly stupid.

I grinned and gently patted his arm, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "You know what, Sherlock, it's your life. If you feel like you have to smoke, whatever. I'd really rather you didn't, but its your choice." I turned my best puppy eyes on him, knowing that they could melt any heart of stone- almost.

My own sappy heart was slamming against my rib cage, threatening to break free and show Sherlock everything that would make him run. We were so close, our bodies barely had an inch between them. It had been two weeks since we first met, and I'd spent those two weeks by Sherlock's side, and the more time we spent together, the harder I began to fall for him. It was surprising what spending almost twenty-four hours a day with someone could do to a person.

I, John Hamish Watson, am possibly falling for Sherlock Holmes.

Oh shit.

Sherlock's P.O.V

Over the past two weeks I had learned many new things about myself. For a start, I wasn't a sociopath; I just had irrevocably awful 'people skills', as John called them. This had been proven on many an occasion. But John was the main reason I had discovered that I could feel more than distaste for people, obviously. John was a conductor of light, his brilliance astounding in every way. He cared for me in a way that no one ever had before.

I had stopped smoking.

We only had one day left before actual lessons began, and I fully intended on using it wisely. In order to do this with the upmost efficiency, I began the day by throwing my pillow at John's head to rouse him from his sleep. I heard him groan and could not help but chuckle to myself. John Watson was quite... adorable.

He wasn't just adorable, he was someone who was actually aesthetically pleasing to look at. He was also caring and kind, and for a teenager, he was very intellectual. Most people were idiots. Not John.