There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

A Criminal In The Public Eye

    It didn't take long for the boys to get ready to leave; they all just ran into the locker rooms, leaving their dates to linger near the bleachers while they went to retrieve their things. Sherlock had put his hat back on, however he kept his head down because he felt people's confused glances aimed at him, as if wondering what some idiot was doing with a straw hat and sunglasses at a rugby game at ten o'clock at night. He was half tempted to take it off once more, however he noticed a pack of boys that were in his year when the incident occurred, so he thought it best to stay disguised for the time being.
"That was so exhilarating!" Sarah exclaimed happily, leaning up against a handrail to a basically unused set of stairs to the now empty bleachers. They had picked a little spot next to a large blue trash can, which wasn't ideal since it smelled; however they were certain that no one would care to look over to the bleachers at a time like this. Besides, this is where the boys had left them and so this is where they were going to stay.
"I thought it was rather exciting." Molly admitted in a guilty little voice.
"I was confused." Sherlock admitted, and both girls nodded in agreement.
"But they looked good playing!" Sarah added optimistically, and once more the whole group nodded in very passionate agreement.
"It's just crazy, isn't it? I mean...we're all dating star rugby players, rich boys from Wisteria...I just never imagined I'd be here right now." Molly admitted in breathless sort of voice, leaning against the bleachers and looking out over the illuminated field.
"You're telling me." Sherlock grumbled with a sort of laugh.
"And the best part is they're not even jerks! I can't tell you how many jerks I've dated." Sarah added happily. Molly nodded, and for a moment they went down the list of all these boys they've gone out with, telling snippets of stories that made Sherlock assume that they had told the whole story in detail before. Once again, they had no idea what they were talking about. Okay, so one of Molly's boyfriends didn't take the bill when they went out for dinner, at least he didn't frame her as a rapist and destroy her life!
"I think I have you all beat there as well." Sherlock muttered, interrupting Sarah's little story about a boy who didn't open her car door for her. The girls silenced for a moment, nodding in silent agreement as they remembered just what Sherlock's snakelike boyfriend had done to him not two years ago.
"John wouldn't do that." Molly assured quickly. Sarah went off in agreement, talking about how Victor was a once in a life time jerk and how Sherlock was just unfortunate to have had him as a first boyfriend and how not all boys were like them and all of that. They acted as if Sherlock and Victor had simply hooked up for one night and that was it, they didn't even act like the relationship mattered!
"He's a jerk, I know, but he broke my heart. And my soul." Sherlock admitted in a small little voice. The girls squeaked silently, covering their mouths like girls do when they're surprised.
"You're not telling me you loved him?" Molly wondered breathlessly. Sherlock just sighed, but he nodded ever so slightly, the brim of his straw hat bouncing up and down with the slightest movement of his head.
"Of course I loved him." Sherlock whispered. There was a pause, but a short one at that, because before the girls could do anything to respond they were interrupted.
"Loved who?" John asked immediately, walking right up to the pack with a rather suspicious glare, as if he thought Sherlock was cheating on him or something preposterous like that.
"His...brother." Molly said quickly, and Sarah nodded in agreement.
"They're very close. But not like...not like romantically you know...ew. Just like, family love." Sarah said quickly, and Molly nodded once more. John just looked between the two of them with a very suspicious glare, obviously detecting a lie as soon as Molly stuttered out her first sentence.
"We were talking about Victor, but that was a long time ago, and you know how that turned out." Sherlock said truthfully, turning to John with an almost mournful gaze. John's face dropped into an expression of sorrow, if not combined with a twinge of hatred.
"I met him you know." John pointed out. Sherlock perked up at that little statement, and yet John seemed to say it as though it was some huge tragedy.
"What did he say to you? He doesn't...he doesn't know does he?" Sherlock whispered fearfully, and John just shook his head reassuringly.
"No he doesn't know, I went to see him after I figured out that it was you at the dance, Greg told me the story you know, I wanted to know more. At that point...well never mind. It doesn't matter, I just...I believed him." John admitted heavily, as if believing the 'common knowledge' was some sort of crime.
"Everyone believed him John, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Sherlock assured softly, and John forced a sort of smile, keeping his head low in shame. Thankfully the other two boys made their appearance, however what was taking them so long remained a mystery. The tension eased right up, or at least it did between the girls, however John seemed rather nervous despite Sherlock's constant reassurance. Maybe it wasn't so much the fact that he believed him once, but the fact that Sherlock had just admitted that his feelings were real. John probably just assumed that Victor and Sherlock had a one night thing, not a relationship. Now even though the relationship part only lasted about a week, the whole getting to know you process extended over basically the entire year, dreadful months of tiptoeing around each other and pining endlessly. Of course back then they both just assumed the other was heterosexual, even though they both made efforts to comb their hair between classes and Victor lint rolled his uniform. Back then it should've been obvious, Sherlock should've known that Victor was homosexual from the start, maybe that would've changed something for the better. However the path that he took those years ago seemed only to lead him to John, and so, throughout all the suffering and all the loneliness he had been feeling, it seemed to be worth it. They headed down to the pizza place together, the girls all linking arms with their respective boy and Sherlock and John walking rather awkwardly behind, with about a foot of space in between them of course. Sherlock was thankfully able to dump his hat and sunglasses back into the car, and now he just strolled normally side by side with John, if you exclude the rather annoying tassels of the pompom sticking out of his pocket.
"So did you like the game?" John wondered as they left the parking lot, obviously making a desperate attempt for small talk while they meandered down the road.
"Oh well yes, I mean, you did amazing of course. I was just confused, to say the least." Sherlock admitted with a sorrowful sigh. John, however, just laughed, his entire face breaking out in amusement as if he had expected that answer.
"I understand, that game isn't the easiest to follow I guess." He agreed with a casual shrug. Sherlock couldn't help but noticing how absolutely stunning he looked in his jersey, stained with mud and grass with his sweat sparkling in the street lamps, he was a serious 10/10, how on earth did Sherlock manage to get him as a boyfriend? How on earth was this even possible? Well of course it was no secret that the universe owed him something, but he never expected his debts to be paid back in the form of the most attractive boy in the country! And to think, John loved him too, he actually loved him! He must have no idea how much more visually superior he was, maybe he was blind, and he was just covering that up! Didn't he know that he was so out of Sherlock's league? And yet here they were, strolling so close that their hands almost hit each other, talking in soft voices admiring each other from a distance?
"Are you listening to me?" John wondered with a laugh, watching Sherlock expectantly as if waiting for some sort of answer. Sherlock just blinked, opening his mouth to answer and then closing it again when he realized that he had no idea what he was answering. So of course, he simply resorted to the first thing that jumped to his mind.
"You're really attractive." Sherlock blabbed, and then gasped in horror, covering his mouth (he's been hanging out with Molly too much) as if he were trying to shove his words back down his throat. But once again John just laughed, laughed like that wasn't the creepiest thing he's ever heard! God did he even know what creepy was, what in the world was his sense of humor if he laughed at something like that! But wait...his cheeks were starting to turn red, oh dear he wasn't amused he was...flattered.
"Well Sherlock I don't hear that every day." John admitted, his bag swinging around on his shoulder as he strolled down the street with a smile on his face. He was just so casual, so calm and collective, wearing that smile on his face with his hands in his pockets, trying to think of something to say that would make Sherlock flustered as well.
"If you need a reminder, you know where to find me." Sherlock added quickly, his own little smile making an appearance while John just laughed right along. So maybe he did have an appropriate sense of humor.
"If you keep flirting at me like that Sherlock I'm not going to get an opportunity to flirt back." John warned, and Sherlock held up his hands defensively, pretending to surrender to whatever romantic powers John was willing to unleash.
"Well by all means John, sweep me off my feet." Sherlock assured with a sort of smile. He didn't want to be too forward with his attraction and yet he definitely wanted John to realize how much Sherlock loved to be wooed. He had spent so many days plunged in self-hatred and obvious bullying, it was a nice change to have someone say something nice about him. Maybe he'll even come to believe it. They were silent for a little while, however Sherlock could tell that John was thinking, he was always thinking but this, this was different. Evidently he was trying to come up with something that would make Sherlock blush and stutter and all of the above, but it seemed that John came up with an answer, a nonverbal one at that. Sherlock's hand was trapped mid-swing in John's, caught in his fingers and interlocked so softly Sherlock nearly thought his arm would fall off with all the sparks and excitement that were racing through his nerves. Oh how wonderful this was, contact with John Watson, actual hand holding! But in a public place, oh gosh...Sherlock looked behind them quickly, twisting around on the sidewalk and nearly pulling John off course while he strained to check their surroundings. There were a couple of people, a small group it would seem, however they were walking too far away to notice anything out of the ordinary. They wouldn't be able to see that their hands were interlocked and if they did they certainly wouldn't be able to tell who the two of them were. So they were safe, it would seem, for now. Sherlock should just get back to being completely wooed. He dropped his gaze and blushed a little bit; glancing once at John before seeing that he was glancing back.
"Was that effective?" John wondered, sounding as though he was trying to hold back a laugh.
"Oh certainly." Sherlock squeaked, and John just nodded contently.
"Ya, I thought so." he agreed. They walked like that for only a block and a half or so, because the blinking sign displaying pizza interrupted whatever silent moment they were sharing at the back of the pack. They parted hands rather reluctantly and walked inside, finding to their surprise that the place was packed with people, students from both schools as well as parents and children and Musgrave. Sherlock immediately wished back to his horrible straw hat, but once again it seemed that the crowd was so thick that it didn't matter who was looking where. They would see people, that was all, they wouldn't see faces. As soon as the three boys showed up in their uniforms suddenly a nice cozy table in the middle of it all opened up, people scrambling to give them space while congratulating them profusely. Sherlock kept his head down while everyone in the shop patted John, Greg, and Mike on their shoulders, congratulating them for a wonderful game while the Musgrave supporters drew back in disgust. Evidently they weren't thrilled to see three of the best players from Wisteria; however Sherlock found some pride in being associated with the winning team. They all took their seats, borrowing chairs from ever so happy fans and seating the six of them around a tiny little table in the middle of the action. The pizza restaurant got increasingly louder as they all noticed who had just entered, however John and the other two boys were soaking up the glory, beaming and thanking their loyal fans for their appreciation. Sherlock and the girls just sat back, smirking at one another and communicating their disgust telepathically. It was a sort of girlfriend sensor that Sherlock had adopted; there were certain looks and smiles that were shared between females that meant certain things, things that no boy, unless he happened to be dating a boy, would understand. This look was of amused disgust, laughing at the boys for being so arrogant and yet shaming them all the same. Finally the crowd died down, and the pizza restaurant went back to normal, everyone tucking back into their seats (some finding that they had accidently donated their chair to the players) and going back to their pizza. Sherlock picked up a menu, one of the few to actually do so, while the others already seemed to know what they were having. Based on the clientele Sherlock would guess that everyone here, even the Wisteria prisoners, were frequent flyers around this shop. Sherlock wasn't much of a socializer, or a fan of greasy food, or going out of the house at all, so this was his first time actually stepping foot into this little Italian establishment. Occasionally the Holmes family would simply order a pizza instead of cooking, and Sherlock could only image they ordered from here, however he could be wrong.
"Who wants to order?" Sarah wondered in a rather lazy voice, taking Mike's hand in both of her own and plucking at his fingers while she stared absentmindedly at her reflection in the metal napkin holder.
"I mean, do you guys just want to get a pie?" John wondered, looking around the table as if trying to be the mediator here.
"I, for one, am ravenous. Get two." Greg suggested, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the table. Unlike the athletes, however, Sherlock's stomach felt like it had closed. It was John's presence undoubtedly, that beautiful boy always made him so nervous and so twitchy, so it was no wonder why he felt like he might throw up any food he tried to force down. Sherlock's opinion, however, wouldn't matter once their minds were set, and already John was getting up to order one plain pizza and one pepperoni pizza. So he stayed silent, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs across where John's legs used to lay, taking advantage of the openness before he would have to squish his legs under the chair once more. The couples took to talking to one another, laughing and flirting each in their individual ways. Sherlock craned his neck to see what John's status was, but to his annoyance John was waiting in a fairly long line. Even his uniform didn't get him front of the line privileges, so it seemed as though Sherlock would be alone in love land for a little while longer. It didn't bother him that much, instead Sherlock just readjusted the napkin holder so that he could fix his curly bangs (they had fallen into his eyes during the excitement of the rugby game) and then took to simply pulling at the plastic tendrils of his pompom that was sticking out of his coat pocket. It was a boring sort of excitement, his heart was still pounding and he still felt like his legs were slowly vibrating underneath him; however nothing was going on at all. Maybe it was just John's presence, despite how far away he stood. Maybe it was the promise of John's presence, or quite possibly the mere memory of having John's hand slide into his so casually not ten minutes previous. Oh what a night this was turning out to be, oh what a life he was just starting to have! And to think how simply one dance had changed his life, all for the better. Gone were the days of moping around and hating his very existence, gone were the feelings of loneliness, of helpless, of a vast wasteland stretching in front of him, a loveless wasteland. And to think that the public had convinced themselves and Sherlock himself that he was a monster, a foul mistake of humanity that was incapable of falling in love and being loved in return. Oh if they could just see him now, with the most beautiful boy on his arm, if they could see the light in John's eyes, the love in John's eyes, whenever he so much as gazed upon Sherlock? Did they understand that their love was pure and untouched by fearful disease that was the rumors surrounding him, did they understand that dispute all they had done to try to scar Sherlock into being unrecognizable as a fellow human being that they had torn him apart so that he could, in turn, be stitched back together by the loving, capable hands of John Watson? How could they claim that John had some disease, how could they insist that Sherlock had twisted his mind, or forced his love on John using the fear of being exposed as a fellow beast? John was in love purely for the sake of being in love, he loved Sherlock as he was and not as society tried to depict him as being, he wasn't damaged or confused. By God why couldn't people understand that a homosexual's heart was still valid? That it was still capable of finding its match in the most unlikely of people? If only Dr. Thompson could see the progress he had made in not only finding a match but finding himself as well, maybe she would call of the medication. Maybe she would call of therapy as a whole. Or maybe she would drag him off to get lobotomized, and submit John to the same torture that Sherlock had been submitted to for the past two years. Maybe the reason she was blind to Sherlock's loving capability was because she was covering her own eyes.