"Where were you?" he asked.
"I had to finish a project for History." I lied.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't leave the classroom and didn't know I had to stay until after the class." I pointed out. Greg sighed, but there was no way he could argue about that.
"What's going on with you these days?" he asked.
"School, homework, don't you have a lot too?"
"No John, I don't, and we pretty much have the same classes."
"Well you're lucky then." I sighed, sitting in the chair and stuffing the book into my desk.
"Ever since we started this school year you've been a lot more distant, we used to spend every free minute together." Greg pointed out.
"I just told you I have no free minutes anymore."
"Fair enough, how about tomorrow, do you want to come over?"
"Don't we have school?" I asked.
"It's Saturday idiot!" Greg pointed out. I had totally lost track of the days of the week.
"Um, no, my grandma is in the hospital, we need to visit her." I said off the top of my head.
"Your grandma died, I remember the funeral."
"The other one."
"She's perfectly fine, the other day your mom said she was in Mexico."
"She was attacked." I lied.
"Is there something I did to offend you in anyway?"
"No."
"Then why are you avoiding me?" Greg asked.
"I'm not avoiding you, my grandma was shot in Mexico."
"That's the most rubbish story I've ever heard."
"Well so sorry but it's true." I rolled my eyes, looking up to the white board as Mrs. Fletcher started the class. The rest of the day was pretty much crap, when the final bell finally rang I grabbed the book and made a beeline to my locker. Greg hadn't talked to me for the rest of class, I guess he was really taking the whole avoiding thing hard, but I didn't care. He was a minor character in my life now, as was every other living person. I was walking as fast as I could, pretty much disoriented as I wove through the crowds. I was almost at my locker when a bunch of football players, all in their varsity jackets, came trampling down the hall in preparation for practice or something. One of them elbowed me into the wall, whether on accident or not, and the book flew out of my hand and got stepped on by one of their big, muddy cleats. And I completely lost it. Rage flooded me, all that rage that I had built up for my dad, Harry, teachers, and Greg, it all came thundering out in an unstoppable stampede. I grabbed the book from the floor and ran at the one who had knocked it out of my hands, jumping onto him and knocking him to the ground with a scream of furry. Obviously no one saw that coming, and even the big footballers were surprised when some 100 pound kid just tackled their biggest player. It took the whole lot of them off of me, the players and some staff who present. I kept swinging though, at the air, at my captors, I didn't care anymore, this entire world was rubbish and there was nothing I could possibly mess up on anymore. Grades didn't matter, health didn't matter, Sherlock mattered, Sherlock and his angel soft lips and his curly raven hair, and the only thing I had to do was bring him to my world to be together forever. The entire hallway was a dam now; I had kicked Mrs. Fletcher in the gut (an extra bonus) and punched the football captain. A large, blinding pain to my head stopped my attacks, whoever had delivered it had wicked strength because the world was fading out into blackness. They dropped me to the floor, the world spinning and their faces getting blurry. But there was a smile on my face, a wicked smile on my face for some reason, and my arms clutched the musty leather book as the darkness took over.
When I awoke I was in a hospital bed, no, the nurse's office. The curtains were drawn over my bed and I saw a bright light shining down on me from the white ceiling. The first thing I noticed was that the book was gone; it was no longer in my arms. Then I started to panic, wonder if they ripped it, wrote in it, what if Sherlock zapped them up instead of me and fell in love with someone else? I tried to get up but found that I was tied to the bed with strong Velcro straps. I kicked and tried to shake out of them, but I wasn't going anywhere without help.
"Sherlock!" I screamed, as if he was going to come and help me in some way. But when the curtain opened it wasn't Sherlock, it was my mother, her mascara running down her face and her face shining with tears.
"Oh thank god, John I was so worried!" she exclaimed. The school nurse and principal appeared at her side, looking down on me with far less emotion. I felt like an animal trapped in the zoo, with onlookers disgusted at what they saw.
"Untie him, please, he's fine now." Mom insisted.
"Where's the book, the leather book?" I asked desperately.
"This one?" Mom asked, pointing to a table near the wall. The book was sitting on top of it, laying there innocently and hopefully untouched.
"Yes, give it to me." I demanded. I couldn't take anything with my hands, but my mom placed it on my chest carefully, as if anything could set me off again. I sighed with relief; it looked undamaged even though it was trampled.
"John what happened?" The school nurse asked.
"They trampled me." I said obviously.
"That's no reason to attack students and staff." The principal said in a harsh voice.
"They pushed me into a wall and stepped on my book."
"Honey are you okay?" Mom asked, wiping my bangs off of my forehead with cold hands.
"What time is it?" I asked, suddenly realizing that I had plans to be with Sherlock all day today. He'd be worried when I didn't show up.
"Almost four thirty." mom muttered, her voice sounding close to tears. I cursed under my breath, too quiet for my mother to hear of course, but I wasted half the day getting revenge. The only reason I regretted it was because I couldn't be with Sherlock sooner, but he'd understand, he knew what it was like to get revenge.
"Can you please unstrap me?" I asked.
"Not yet Mr. Watson, we still have some things to discuss with you." The Principal pointed out. Mrs. Jones was her name; she was bloody annoying from the start. She had no right to call me Mr. Watson, that was Sherlock's name for me, only Sherlock's.
"Well get on with it then." I grumbled, trying to hold the book with my chin or something to make sure they wouldn't take it away. Mom was looking at the old leather suspiciously, now she knew it was a part of my life, she wouldn't take it from me though, would she?
"John, you attacked a student and a couple staff members, I think it's fair to suspend you for a week. I also recommend a mental health screening Mrs. Watson." Mrs. Jones decided, writing stuff down on a clip board.
"Mental health! I'm sorry to interfere but my son is not insane, he was bullied and I want to see some punishment on the other side!" Mom defended, crossing her arms and putting on the signature mom face that got her parking places and manager visits.
"All the witnesses say that they accidently bumped into John and he went rouge." Mrs. Jones pointed out.
"Yes but that means he was a little bit upset, that doesn't mean he's insane!" mom said, her voice rising as her patience decreased. I couldn't say I blamed her, but there was a sneaking suspicion that I might be following Sherlock down his path. But that didn't mean I cared. Maybe insane people see the world how it is and the world was really just the pile of crap I saw it now. Maybe we're normal, and the real people are the insane ones, living in hell and calling it paradise.
"I'm sorry, but that's what we all think is necessary, I'm sure there is nothing wrong with your son Mrs. Watson, we just need to make sure." The nurse said in a soothing voice, patting my mother on the shoulder as if that was going to help in some way.
"Fine, but I'm sending you the bill. Now unstrap my son and let us leave." Mom hissed, grabbing my backpack and watching the nurse unstrap me. Mrs. Jones handed mom the slip of paper that said I was suspended and all that jazz, I didn't really care. Once my arms were free I grasped the book tightly, feeling the leather beneath my fingers was the most therapy I needed. They unstrapped my legs and I got to my feet shakily. Mom tried to support me, but I pushed her away. I just wanted to go home. The room was silent as the two faculty members watched us leave, I could just tell my mom was really trying not to flip them off as we left.
"Metal health, give me a break. No son of mine is insane." She muttered. Given that she was talking to herself I wouldn't say it would be such a long shot if I was actually insane. The sun blinded my eyes as I walked out into the parking lot, walking up to one of the only cars in the parking lot. She opened the door, holding it open for me and waiting until I was all buckled up until she slammed the door, muttering about how pathetic the entire staff was. The drive home was silent except for her strained sighs, as if she wanted me to just get over it and apologize, but that wasn't happening. I didn't do anything wrong, surely she could see that. I was just avenging myself. I dusted off any dust still on the book, flipping through the pages to make sure there was no damage.
"What is that anyway?" Mom asked, peering at me through the mirror.
"It's nothing, just a book." I shrugged. Casual on the outside, but inside I was bracing for her to ask to see it, to demand I give it to her, what would I do? Would I slap her hand away, would I jump out of the car, scream at my own mother? Yes, yes I would. The car pulled into the driveway and I jumped out, running to my room without any word of thanks or apology to my mother. I knew she would understand that I needed some space, at least for an hour or two until dinner. Then she'd want to talk about my feelings and what went over me. I'd tell her the truth; they pushed me and stepped on my things. Of course they actually stepped on my dead boyfriend's soul book, I'd leave that part out of course. I put the chair against the door again, my sign of privacy requested, and grabbed the pencil from my bedside table, snuggling under the covers and creaking the book open.
This is your end of the deal, let me in. I need to talk anyway. Where have you been? It's nearly four. I know, I'll tell you face to face. There was a pause and the seam started to fill with the heavenly light, he was coming, I was going to see him again. I didn't know what to do when I materialized in the Hogwarts hallway, I didn't know if I should run up and kiss him or break down and cry. Sherlock was leaning casually against the wall, his hair leaning to one side and the curly bangs shadowed his left eye. God, why was he so attractive?
"Hello my dear Watson." Sherlock said with a half-smile.
"I'm suspended for a week." I said, cutting right to it. That gorgeous smile disappeared, replaced by an almost equally attractive look of worry.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I was walking down the hall and the footballers bumped me and stepped on the book, so I attacked them." I shrugged as if it were no big deal.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because they had stepped on the book, I didn't know if that killed it's power or something, but Sherlock please, please come to my world. Please come to Earth and make my miserable life worth living." I begged, stepping closer to him in the hope that he would give me a kiss for luck or something.
"Mr. Watson it seems like we have a conjoined past. Although I got expelled."
"Please, please come." I insisted.
"I don't know if I can, I don't know if we're there yet." Sherlock pointed out, but he looked doubtful.
"What do I have to do, Sherlock I will do anything." I insisted.
"No, not yet, one more thing okay? If something else happens in your life that makes you go off the edge then I'll come with you, but it will be difficult." Sherlock decided after a little bit. I could sing at the moment, just imagining Sherlock with me, on Earth, he could take out the bullies I never could, tell dad to get off his lazy butt, and no one could kill him because he was already dead.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, Sherlock I don't know what I'd do without you!" I admitted, throwing myself at him and wrapping my arms around his neck. He took a step back in shock, but hugged me back, regaining his balance with a little laugh.
"You're not mad at me are you?" I asked with a muffled voice.
"No of course not, I've been there Mr. Watson; I know what it's like to fight for love." Sherlock assured.
"And I do love you Sherlock, until the end of my days." I assured.
"And more, hopefully." Sherlock added.
"Until the end of time." I agreed, pulling back a little bit to plant a short kiss on his lips. Sherlock smiled at me, his green eyes sparkling with approval.
"We will be together forever, if you wanted to be." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh course I want to be with you forever." I agreed.
"When you die you can put your soul in the book with me, then we can live in Hogwarts together." Sherlock said.
"So you'll live with me until I get older, and when I die we'll both go into the book forever." I said, thinking out loud.
"Paradise." Sherlock agreed.
"Will you age?"
"Unfortunately no, I am no more than a soul, my clock has stopped." He sighed.
"Well then you're lucky, I'm sure growing up sucks." I guessed.
"I guess I'll never be able to make that decision." Sherlock shrugged, and I just held him closer, our foreheads touching and the tips of our noses mashed together.
"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." I decided.
"As are you. It will be pleasure to accompany you on your journey through life." Sherlock decided.
"Then why don't you come now?"
"One more tragedy, and then I'll come." Sherlock decided. I nodded, hoping he would keep that promise, but he never broke a promise to me, and he never will. He was an angel and he was my angel.