SHERLOCK'S P.O.V
John and I were sat outside in the late autumn air, on the grassy banks where the sun was shining; well, I was sat under a tree in the shade. I was furiously typing away at John's laptop, which I had borrowed, and he was lounging, his shirt riding up slightly, exposing his slim stomach. I forced my attention away from him and focused on the laptop.
"John, can I borrow your phone?"
"Sure... oh, sorry, it's in my dorm."
"It's in my pocket." I murmured. I couldn't afford to be distracted right now; all I needed to do was print off these sheets, and I was done...
"Christ Sherlock, get it yourself." John huffed, and led back down.
"John. Phone. Please." I emphasised on the 'please', knowing it would appeal to John. He didn't move for a second, then got up and roughly shoved his hand down my chest pocket. "Careful," I growled at him, and he glared at me and grabbed the phone, giving it to me. I quickly typed Mycroft the message, keeping it turned away from John, and waited impatiently for it to send; once it had, I deleted it from the system. I handed it back to John, instead of keeping it in my chest pocket. He flicked through it.
"Must be ever so important for you to delete..." He muttered sarcastically; I didn't know whether it was directed to me, or to himself.
"What?"
"Never mind." He replied, and leant back against the tree. This time, I just couldn't help myself from looking at him, and deducing him. His eyes were closed, his arms behind his head, and his breathing was slow and steady; he was calm and relaxed. The mud and gravel layered on top, on his leather shoes, indicated he had recently been to the Geography huts, probably to talk to the teacher about the latest assignment. He had finished the biology work 10, maybe 15 minutes ago, judging by the smudge of ink on his right index finger, and by the imprinted words the side of his hand: "-de the chromosomes an-". He recently had a shower, and his shampoo scent was still hanging around him, slightly cloying. He was opening his eyes lazily, and he was blinking a couple of times in my direction. Before I knew it he was standing up. I blinked myself a few times, startled; had he seen I was staring at me? Then I reminded myself; I wouldn't care.
But had he seen?
He had opened his mouth, and was mouthing something. S-...Sa-... what was he mouthing?
"Sarah?" He whispered. I twisted savagely around, twisting the muscles in my neck; who was Sarah? Come on Sherlock, you've seen that name before... I checked my mind and ran through it, finding nothing. "Sarah!" John yelled. Who the hell was sh--
Sarah.
Sarah was John's ex-girlfriend.
I followed John's gaze properly this time, and saw a girl with light brown hair standing with a few girls, obviously looking back at John.
John immediately hurried over, stumbling slightly. I hesitated, debating on whether to join him or not; but then the obvious answer appeared.
I stood up immediately, shutting the laptop with force, tucked it under my arm, and strode over to John, easily catching up with him. I arranged my features in my normal face: 'I honestly could not give two shits about you.'
He was smiling, and so was Sarah. I glanced her over. Taking chemistry and biology, but not physics, for GCSEs; wants to become a doctor, more likely a G.P; wears glasses, but only for reading; another man's deodorant on her; has a boyfriend. I disliked her immediately. I resolved to treat her like every other individual other than John.
"S-Sarah... hey!" John stuttered, looking like a lovelorn child. Indigence swelled in inside of me. I stood beside John, my back straight, my head up, and let one of my limited range of emotions flit across my face subtly; distaste.
"Oh, John, hi!" There was a miniscule second of silence, probably awkward to everyone but me, and the two embraced rather awkwardly, fumbling a tad.
"Sarah, I didn't kn-- oh wait, Sarah, this is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. And Sherlock, this is Sarah Sawyer." He stood back a bit, waiting for us to hold each other's bodies in each other's arms for one second as an embrace, or to extend our limbs and gently or firmly grab and shake the other individual's hand with our own.
I did no such thing. She stood there, smiling and extended her hand. I ignored it, and kept my steady glare on her. She blushed slightly, withdrew her hand jerkily and brushed her hair behind her ear, before glancing at John.
Sign of awkwardness or embarrassment; more associated with attraction. Result: she still had feelings for John.
"John, I didn't know you were here!"
"I, uh, didn't know either! Heh... what a surprise, eh?" John laughed nervously, and shuffled about on foot to foot. They looked each other in the eyes for a moment, and John half-smiled.
"So, Sarah," I announced, standing up to my full height and clipping my words with condescending tones, "How's your boyfriend?"
"My-- my what?"
"Her what?"
Both were staring at me; Sarah open-mouthed, emotions flying across her face that were unknown to me, and John was looking disbelieved; his eyes were swivelling from me to her.
"Yes Sarah, your boyfriend. How is he?"
"I- I don't have a boyfriend...?" She ended shakily, and this time both John and I were staring at her; me with malevolence and deducing, and John with scared interest.
"Well, you either do or don't, and I'm judging that you do as you seem to be wearing a man's deodorant (which has just vaporised, actually). Oh, and your lipstick's smudged; now, a girl like you doesn't go out in the morning with smudged makeup, does she? No, you've recently been using your lips, and recently too, I'd say, otherwise you'd have cleaned it up by now, lunch is almost over. You're also wearing more makeup than usual, and your skirt is higher than it should be-- an A grade maths and science student wanting to be a GP, who wears make-up like that? No, you're wearing it for someone, and for a reason; more like a love interest, and certainly not John, for judging by both your expressions you didn't even know each other was here. Now, you obviously still have feelings for John, since you're displaying all the usual signals of attraction-- brushing hair behind your ear, blushing, pupils dilating, et cetera, et cetera. I think I can end it here, as a result that you have a boyfriend, but you still have feelings for John, who probably doesn't return those feelings, I'm afraid. Unrequited love, a tragedy, isn't it? Well, I'd best be off now. I have an email to send and by the time I reach the buildings you'll be arguing. Goodbye."
And without further ado I turned around and strode towards the building, feeling nothing and therefore normal.
Just before I entered the building, I turned around to see, in the slight distance, John and Sarah arguing. Her friends had left, and it was just those two.
I turned around and entered the building; after all, I had some records to print.
LATER THAT EVENING (10pm)
JOHN'S P.O.V
"What," I stormed into the dorm, the velocity of air from the door swing shifting a few papers strewn across the desk where Sherlock was working at, "the bloody hell was that about?"
He didn't even jump. He merely raised an eyebrow at me coolly. "If you're talking about Sarah--"
"Oh, no shit Sherlock, of course I'm talking about Sarah! Why else would I be here?!"
"Well," Sherlock began, looking slightly confused, "this is your dorm."
"Oh for Christ sake's Sherlock, just stop, okay? Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Told me and her all that--"
"Her and I."
"What?"
"It's: "told her and I", not "told me and her."
"Jesus Sherlock, shut the hell up!"
Sherlock looked at me, and stopped talking. But I was far too angry to even consider what he was feeling. He obviously felt nothing.
"Why did you tell her and I all of that... stuff?" I glared down at Sherlock, rage settling in my eyes, leaving a stone cold block that couldn't be removed. Sherlock stayed sat down on the chair, and just looked at me.
"I assume you mean my deductions. I did it because she didn't like me, and I didn't like her, and I thought it was kinder than letting you continue falling head over heels with her when she obviously wasn't going to tell you she had a boyfriend." Oh for God's sake, he even started using his condescending voice at me. He looked like he regretted his tone of voice, but I didn't give a damn.
"Damn it Sherlock, she didn't even know you! How could she have disliked you?! Oh, and I'm pretty bloody sure that that was not kind. At all."
"How was I supposed to know?"
"How were you supposed to kn--?" I took a deep breath, and continued. "Jesus, Sherlock, Jesus..." I stopped. Then continued, deadpan. "You're right. You weren't supposed to know. You wouldn't know because honestly you don't give two shits about anyone. At all. Probably not even your brother."
"I care ab--"
"And you know what? It's obvious that the only thing you care about in your life is yourself, and you trying to make yourself impressive. I could bet anything that if I dropped dead right here, the only thing you'd do is set up a crime scene and see what calibre the bullet was."
"John, I care abou--"
"Goodbye Sherlock."
"John, you can't just walk about, it's 10pm!" Sherlock yelled at me. I spun on my feet, and glared at him.
"Watch me." I growled at him, pausing for a moment.
"John!" Sherlock called at me, seemingly desperately, although he obviously didn't have emotions, the machine. "I care ab--"
I stalked right out the dorm, and slammed it shut.
SHERLOCK'S P.O.V
"--out you!" I finished, even though I knew he didn't hear it.
Oh God, what had I done?
The crucial papers on my desk, that now littered the floor, that were crucial in order to end the case, now meant nothing to me.
I drew up my knees to my chest, and thought.
And thought.
And thought.
Had I just lost my only friend?
A sudden knocking came on the door. I didn't even bother to recognise who it was by the pressure and how long the gaps were between the knocks, I just covered the length of the dorm in half a second and threw it open.
"John--?"
My temporary happiness diminished and my desperation increased when I saw not John, but Mycroft standing in the doorway.
"Hello, brother dear. I just saw John run down the stairs, is he alright...?"
I let my school blazer slide down one arm and hang loosely as I made my way to my bed.
"Obviously not then." Mycroft answered himself quietly. "Sherlock, you're not upset, are you?"
I glared at him, then relented and slouched against the wall, my knees to my chin and my arms wrapped around them.
"Mycroft, what do I do?" I whispered into my arms. Unfortunately, he heard it.
"Sherlock. How long have you had feelings for John?"
"I-- I what?" I spluttered at him. He smiled condescendingly at me.
"Sherlock, if you can deduce about Greg Lestrade and I, what makes you think I haven't noticed you and John?"
A silence fell between us. He was supposed to be checking each dorm, at this time of night, but instead he was helping me, his younger brother; something I had not known would happen.
"Me... and John? Does he... appear to show interest back?"
Mycroft sighed. "It is hard to tell. I haven't seen much of him lately, but... I don't know Sherlock. I'm sorry." It was obvious he hated about not knowing matters as much as I did. "But, Sherlock, I wouldn't have a relationship with him."
"What?" The statement offered by Mycroft came out of nowhere. "Why not?"
"Because caring is not an advantage, brother."
"I'm sorry," I emerged from my vulnerable state to reply coolly, "but what was going on between you and Greg? I thought there was something sexual going on between the pair of you."
"Yes," he replied, smiling sadly, "but look where that got us. How are we going to tell people? How are people going to react? Will I remain my status as Head Boy, and will Greg still be football captain?"
"People are ignorantly stupid," I muttered.
"Surely you'd noticed before?" Mycroft smirked at me, receiving a rare small half-smile in return. "Sherlock, I do think that you'd better get on with the task at hand, you have a little under 2 hours left."
"I don't think I can do--"
"Sherlock!" Mycroft suddenly shouted at me, and the intensity of the yell and quietness of the dorm made me flinch. "You are to go ahead with this. This was your idea, and therefore you are doing this. Lives are at stake here Sherlock, just do I know, do you even care? No, wait, don't answer that. I know you don't. Just... do it. End the case, right now," he growled, and stalked out of the door, just as I realised he was right.
I stood up, collected the papers off the floor, and started to get ready for 2 hours.