Love is a Much More Vicious Motivator (Teenlock AU)

Chapter 6

Oh my god, guys. Hold up.

Are my eyes deceiving me?

100 reads!

I'm so thrilled that you have all read this! It was always just a bit of fun, I never expected to get more than about 5 reads, but you have made this my project.

This story will go on!

Now, I believe it is tradition to post an unbearably crappy filler chapter in celebration. I will introduce some new characters, to make it worth reading.

As always, comment, vote, make this worth my time.

Lots of love,

~The Effect

***

John awoke to a beautiful sound. He didn't open his eyes, just stayed still and let the note thrum through his body. The unwavering sound resonated deep inside John, and he smiled, feeling a warmth settling in his bones.

The note changed, rising then falling, and John placed the instrument. A violin.

He cracked open his eyes, wanting to know the source of the alluring music. He was rewarded with the sight of his tall roommate's back. Sherlock had the violin propped expertly under his chin and he moved the bow with a delicate respect, as though he and the instrument were one. His curls were tousled, though John doubted he had slept, given the fact he was still dressed as he had been after dinner the previous day.

John's phone informed him that it was 3:44. Far too early to be awake, but John didn't care, just so long as Sherlock didn't stop playing.

When Sherlock finished his piece, John nearly whimpered at the lack of sound in the room.

First day of lessons, he thought. Brilliant.

Chemistry, French, free, maths, free. A good day, but not one he was necessarily ready for...

"Good morning, John."

"Only just." John's voice was blurred with sleep.

"We have chemistry and maths together."

"Oh. Really. Your violin...ing, that was good. Really good." John thought he should probably shut up an let his brain wake up before he made a complete fool of himself.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied, slowly, as if unused to it.

"Chemistry. Chemistry..." John rolled over. "I need to shower. I need to get out of this bed at some point. I don't want to." John sighed deeply. He realised he was talking to himself, but chose to ignore that fact. Hopefully, mindless waffle would return Sherlock to his violin, and John could listen once again to the beautiful music his roommate could conjure from a bow and strings.

Eventually, and with much melodrama, John heaved himself from the bed. The only thing which kept him shuffling to the bathroom was the thought of the kettle he had seen in the common room the day before.

Shower, downstairs, tea. He repeated the mantra in his head as he gathered his clothes for the day and slipped into the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, Sherlock returned to his violin.

The shower freshened John up significantly, and by the time he had finished his much anticipated cup of tea, he felt just about ready to face the day.

Sherlock joined him in the common room wearing a thin white shirt and black jeans, finished by a pair of black converse high tops. He gratefully accepted the cup of tea John had poured for him.

They sat in respectful silence. It was early, so the common room was empty, except for the occasional person passing through. Sherlock studied John over the rim of his teacup. John studied right back.