Soulmate Au but it's Johnlock! (UNDER HEAVY EDITING- 10/19/2020)

"Give me some of you,"

  "Are you on your iPhone?" Sherlock asked, unconsciously smiling. "Yes, why?" John answered. Sherlock pulled his book bag to his bed and unzipped it. He pulled his school issued iPad from it and turned it on. "Hold on; one moment." Sherlock stalled once more. "Sherlock, what're you doing?" John asked, then he got another call. "Hold on, I have to take this." John said, answering the other call. "Hello, John." Sherlock smiled. "Really?! You FaceTime me?" John laughed. "Well, what else would I do?" Sherock mused with a dreamy smile. "Oh," John shouted, gasping, "So, I have this absolutely brilliant balcony!" He said as he got up, bringing the Mobile with him. "My first thought was on Astronomy night, but then I remembered that you were in London." John explained. "Oho!" Chuckled Sherlock. "How very homosexual of you, John Watson!" He laughed. "Oh, shut up, you!" John pouted, crossing his arms. "So, do you want to hear how I knew?" Sherlock asked, lying back against his bed. He saw John smirk and felt his heart skip, "oh, God, yes."

Days to weeks, weeks to months, Sherlock had become primarily accustomed to getting or. Making calls to John. Although, it wasn't like Sherlock needed to call John everyday, he already texted the boy most hours of the day. One day, however, Sherlock tried to text and call John after school. None of his communication attempts seemed to be answered until the middle of the night when John texted him. "Sherlock, go to sleep." Sherlock frowned. "Are you okay?" He responded, sitting up in his bed. Sherlock's frown strained. "You Text everyday like a lunatic. And, you call every single night." Sherlock felt a chord in his heart being pulled. "My apologies, but I thought you liked our talks. The conversations we have together." Sherlock replied, trying to stay strong. The next message would have killed him it it could. "I enjoy the talks I have with Molly Hooper, not with you. If I never see you again, it'd be too soon," Sherlock threw his iPad against the was and quickly covered himself with his blanket as the messages kept going. He even dared try to call Sherlock. "Who does he think he is?!" Sherlock said to himself as he felt the tears drown out his hearing as he lie there on his left side.

  The next morning, Sherlock woke up and checked the messages, even though he knew he shouldn't have. His eyes widened as he saw John's explanation via the texts. His foster sister, Janine, was still pretty 'salty' about that night months ago and when John was doing the washing up last night, she texted that. And not to worry, since John's got she grounded for doing so. "So, you don't think I'm annoying?" Sherlock asked a He was brushing his teeth. There was an instant reply. "Never!" That made Sherlock's heart rate accelerate, but just in case he'd stopped calling so often, which he guessed wasn't a good idea. He got a call from John in the middle of the night on FaceTime from John, which he answered because he wasn't even tired. "Hello? John, are you okay?" Sherlock asked, a bit worried. "Sh'lock!" John's voice hollered from the speaker as Sherlock only had a shot of John's ear to go off of. "John, this is FaceTime. As much as I would adore staying awake to listen to your frantic voice and look at a video of your ear, what's a voice if not including the entire frantic facial expression." Sherlock mused, suppressing his worry with a tease. "You're there... Thank God!" John breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed. "John, are you okay?" He asked.

  "I had a dream. We were somewhere in London, and you... you were on, on the roof," John started, but his shaky voice let out a very breathy sigh, "And, we were on the phone, then, you... threw yours. You put y-your arms out, like an... an angel, but you fell." John finished with a sob. Sherlock had never seen or heard John like this ever before and it definitely worried Sherlock. He grabbed the camera and brought it up to his face. And shook it a bit to grab John's attention, as if it was John himself. "John! You need an internet hug!" Sherlock shouted. He then hugged his iPad. "Are... Are you hugging your phone yet?" Sherlock asked. "Yes, Sherlock," John laughed and sniffled. "There." Sherlock said, pulling back from the virtual embrace, "Do you feel better?" He asked, looking at John as he pulled back as well. He had a warm feeling pooling in his stomach as he saw John smile. "Thanks, Sherlock," John chuckled, "I've really needed that and we haven't talked in a while, which is a real shame." John's smile slowly dropped. "I'm only trying to stay away because I don't want to be, a freak," Sherlock said, pausing before calling himself that name. "Have they started up with that again?!" John asked, concerned. "It's not like I don't give them a reason to do it! I mean, I got glasses...!" Sherlock teased himself by pushing the pair of glasses up his nose. "Still," John said tentatively, "try to stand up for yourself. At least until I come back." John requested. Sherlock's heart pounded at the thought of seeing John again. Hugging him was a thought on an entirely different level. Sherlock had never thought about how exciting hugging a boy could be. Then, he wondered: 'Does Jim think the same way about me?'

  Even more weeks went by and the two of them had distanced their calls again, but they continued texting almost everyday. Unfortunately, it left a lot to Sherlock's imagination. Most nights while he would talk to John via text, he'd tend to pleasure himself while he thought of John doing the same. He kept mixing up names, specifically Jim's name was typically replaced with John's. And, Jim is more suspicious of Sherlock now that he has all of these well-drawn doodles. He meant no offense to Sherlock, but he wasn't the greatest sketch artist, even more so when using a marker, but along with these well-drawn doodles, marked Sherlock's chicken scratches. In sport, Sherlock would get changed in the stalls. A lot of cruel kids were thinking that he was gay and didn't feel comfortable with how the locker room was an open changing centre. One day, Jim confronted Sherlock in his bedroom about it.

  "Take them off," Jim whispered huskily. Sherlock was sitting on the bed with Jim straddling his lap, tugging eagerly at Sherlock's shirt, but obviously restraining himself and waiting for permission. 'Okay, Sherlock! Don't fuck this up! This is how you get experienced. This is how you impress John. He's obviously not a virgin with of how much he knows about these things, so. Just don't say John's name!' Sherlock's mind was racing as he finally reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, removing he article and revealing his growing marks on his shoulders and chest. "Wow," Jim uttered as he saw how surprisingly fit Sherlock looked. "I didn't know you worked out," Jim blinked as he gently put his hand on Sherlock's chest and caressed the stretch marks lovingly. "Well, I started out with just carry jugs, tubs, and coolers about 28 kilos of chemicals and lab equipment, then as my experiments became more intense, I stocked up and the weight increased to 35 kilos. That carried to and fro-?!" Sherlock was explaining for too long and Jim had become impatient. Jim wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissed him with a force that pushed Sherlock to his back. Sherlock instinctively rolled Jim over so that his weight was on Jim, instead of visa versa. They kissed and bit and licked at one another until, once more, Jim became impatient and began to rut his hips against Sherlock's.

  Sherlock was more than fairly certain that his brother, Gavin, and his parents had heard them, but to make things worse, and what Sherlock was unaware of, was that his mum had invited his grandparents over and they must've heard the pair of them at work, too. When Sherlock had seen Jim to the door, and Jim kissed Sherlock's lips twice. "One for Love," He always said, "and one for good luck." Sherlock was smiling and he was actually starting to like Jim. Sherlock shut the door with a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he turned to see everyone, with faces of somehow negative awe. "By god, you're only sixteen, Sherlock!" Gavin shouted. "Yes, well, plenty of other people have been doing so before sixteen, so you'd better feel lucky that I'm a freak." Sherlock said, straightening his back. He walked up to grab a grape from the fruit bowl. Mycroft swatted his hand with a newspaper, "Wash your hands or use a fork," He demanded. Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes as he walked up to the sink and watched as Gavin turned it on and squirted soap in his hands from afar. "Oh, come on!" Sherlock shouted. He washed his hands anyway. They probably would have a brain aneurysm just imagining Sherlock grabbing a fork from the silverware drawer. When he was done washing his hands, Sherlock grabbed the entire bunch of grapes and made his way up to his room,- knowing that no one else would want to have any of them. When he opened his door, Sherlock noticed he was getting a call from John on his iPad. Sherlock basically jumped onto his bed to take the call on time. "Hey," John breathed in relief. "What's up?" Sherlock asked as he ate a grape. "Just bored and had a very bad day," John answered with a sigh. "Awe, sorry to hear," Sherlock whined, "if I could reach through and give you a grape, I would've by now," Sherlock offered, laughing. "So, what were you up to that has you, hungry and breathless?" John asked, his words trailed off and his smile slowly dropped. "Oh, Jim was over." He said, nonchalantly popping another plump, green grape between his swollen Cupid bow lips. "Oh, taking it to the next level, I see?" John asked, chuckling nervously. "Yep," Sherlock replied simply, popping his lips at the end of his response. "I'm so sorry if I'm boring you Sherlock. I, uhh, should get going anyway. It's getting rather late." John said, obviously uncomfortable. "what? It's only 22.30!" Sherlock pointed out. "I have a date with Molly tomorrow night. We're going to a drive-in cinema." John informed. Sherlock's eyebrows immediately furrowed. "Molly? I don't think I've heard of Molly. You're going to the drive in on your first date? That's inappropriate for the beginning of a relationship, John." Sherlock retorted, breaking a grape between his teeth. "We've been going out since I arrived; we met on the plane." John announced, non-triumphantly. "So, for two years, and I didn't see her, yet?" Sherlock asked, wanting it to come out like he was excited to see Molly, but it came out like he was disappointed.