Secrets Aren't Made Slowly

Anywhere But Here

    John knew that he couldn't get out of going to school the next day, and so when he woke up he decided that he ought to just get it over with. Maybe he ought to go to school early, just so that he could make sure any awkward hallway passes weren't as uncomfortable as they had to be. Whatever tension and nervousness that was sure to be built up between them would be forgotten as soon as he just talked, it didn't have to be about anything really, just a simple lines of conversation would do the trick. Just seeing Sherlock again, getting another vision of him in his head other than the back of his head and the feeling of his shoulder blades against his chest. John would like to see the man he had hated, not the man he had grown to love. And so he grabbed his coat and his backpack, flinging them near the front door as he sat down for a quick breakfast. His mom was awake and yet long gone were the days that his breakfast was prepared for him. No, instead he was forced to throw some bread into the toaster and hope for the best. It took him all of ten minutes to toast, butter, and eat, and yet despite his go getter attitude this morning he still got stuck in the rush to school, the morning commute and the morning tsunami of kids all crammed in the parking lots and crammed in the hallways, fighting for space and for elbow room. And so John decided that maybe now wasn't the best time for a conversation, especially when anyone could just walk right in, or look in, and see the two having their first conversation since their lips did something other than just talk.
"Well hello there John!" Jim said excitedly, materializing at John's shoulder and patting him on the back, as if he was some sort of father congratulating his son on something. John just smiled, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do in this situation, so he just continued to put things into his locker, deeming Jim's actions unusual and just, for the most part, pretty odd.
"Hi." John managed.
"We missed you yesterday, are you feeling any better?" Irene asked, for she of course was standing on John's other shoulder as soon as he closed his locker.
"Ya actually, I think I was just run down." John admitted with a shrug, which was kind of true actually.
"On a Tuesday? That's only a day after the weekend John, what did you do on Monday that could have exhausted you so much?" Jim wondered in a mocking sort of voice, making both he and Irene giggle as if they had some sort of inside joke that John just wouldn't understand.
"Drank too much coffee, and then went to bed. Or at least tried to." John said truthfully. He of course left out the part where he fell into the arms and onto the chest of his calculus teacher, and yet he decided that was probably something that was best left out of a casual hallway conversation.
"That's why you drink decaf, come on John!" Irene giggled, prodding him in the shoulder as if insisting he try better next time. John just shrugged, not entirely sure why they were suddenly so interested in his life, and yet the ringing of the first bell was enough to shake them off. To be honest John was almost tempted to skip class, because that had worked out pretty well for him the first time. And yet it was Mrs. Hooper, he knew that instead of giving him a detention she would just ask all sorts of questions, she's be too nosey. And so instead of wandering the halls, like Mrs. Donavan had accused him of doing, John instead just went to class. Because along with all the positive things about detention, there were also the downsides, and at this moment John didn't want to have to deal with another set of downsides. Mrs. Hooper seemed rather cheerful this morning, she was going on and on about Shakespeare as if the man had been her personal friend or something like that, as all English teachers did really. However John was too preoccupied to share her enthusiasm, to be completely honest he could barely even lift his head up to participate, for there were much more important things going on in his mind. Firstly he was trying to figure out when to approach Mr. Holmes, if approaching him was the best thing to do in this situation. Should he try during lunch, when he could ensure the hallways being empty and Mr. Holmes to be unoccupied? Or would he have more luck after school, where no one would be listening? There were only downsides of talking after school that John could think of, and the predominant one was timing. If he started this conversation after school there would be no proper end date in sight. Instead of having their talk limited to a half an hour they would instead have the entire evening to themselves, and the last time they had that sort of freedom they created the problem that was being pondered now. Secondly if he talked after school John would have to go through the whole of the third period without having talked to Sherlock, and that would make calculus even more horrible. There was something about unsaid words that sickened John, especially when such conversation could make this horrible mental strain disappear. If he could just see Sherlock again, in his professional state, well maybe that would help ease the reservations that were clinging to his head like viruses. He could remind himself just why he had fallen in love with that man in the first place, and maybe a reminder of how it all started would help him accept the way it had ended. And yet it wasn't the end, not yet at least. No, John felt like the end would come with a lot more trouble, a lot more fuss. This wasn't the climax, no not yet. And so John decided that lunch would probably be the best time to do it, the only issue that came along with that, most obviously, would be the fact that he wouldn't get to eat. And that wasn't even that much of a drawback, for he wouldn't have been able to eat anyway, not with Mr. Holmes's imminent presence hanging over his head. After English John slouched on over to history, listening to Anderson crone on and on about information neither teacher nor student fully understood. He tried to be attentive, he tried to be a good student and take notes, and yet all his notes amounted to being was a mess of doodles and shading between the lines of his ruled paper, and so they weren't much help at all. When the bell finally rang John felt as though it was something of a death sentence, and despite his qualms he decided that he ought to just go and face his fears. He fixed his hair, patting down the sides and fluffing up the front so that he looked fabulous (for you should always approach past lovers in a state that would convince them to love you again) and started down the hallway. As a precaution he grabbed his lunch box from his locker and he snuck away before Jim and Irene could find him, for they would be sure to ask too many questions. He didn't see them anywhere in the hallway anyway, so they must be up to no good out in the courtyard or something, smoking or drinking or doing whatever bad kids do these days. It wasn't a loss, to be certain, and so John just started down the hallway trying to be brave, trying to stand tall, and trying to think of just how to approach this man. This would be the first time they saw each other since it happened, and so John wanted to make his best effort to make himself look, well, fabulous. The door was ajar, and despite the students still crowding the hallways and making an intolerable amount of noise John saw that Sherlock was sitting at his desk quietly, holding up his curly head on his hand as he sat there and stared at papers that were strewn about his desk. John took a deep breath, however he noticed that the fear he harbored about that man was subsided, for as long as he had sat wallowing about how much he regretted Monday night, seeing Sherlock there made him want to relive it all over again. This was the reason he loved him, right here, Sherlock's natural state. His beautiful state. Maybe falling in love wasn't all that bad after all. John knocked gently on the door frame so as to announce his presence, and yet before Sherlock could pick up his head to see who his visitor was John already snuck inside, closing the door behind him so as to secure the room as much as possible.
"John I um...I hadn't expected to see you here." Sherlock admitted immediately, jumping to his feet so as to look somewhat inviting. John just smiled rather sheepishly, nodding his head before starting into the room, his hands on his backpack straps just so that he didn't have to fumble with his lunch box while he tried to think of something to say.
"Ya I um, well I decided that whatever conversation we need to have it ought to be before class." John suggested, to which Sherlock nodded rather agressivley, maybe he had been thinking the same thing. For a moment they just looked at each other, John's eyes only wavering when he glanced back at the desk on which he had last been with Sherlock, feeling his stomach twist rather nervously all while his heart did a celebratory flip flop. This all would be a lot easier if his internal organs could just come to a mutual consensus.
"I was worried about you, yesterday. I didn't know if it was due to me, or to..."
"No it wasn't you. It wasn't you it was me; I was just kind of nervous. It's not your fault." John assured in a quick voice, however Sherlock didn't look too sure.
"Nervous? About seeing me?" Sherlock wondered carefully, lingering near the edge of his desk with his hand still pressed against the wood, his fingers flexing in an odd sort of way as if he felt like he needed to get as much as his hand onto the table as possible.
"About being here...again. Not necessarily because of you, partially, maybe, but..."
"I'm sorry Mr. Watson, I'm truly sorry." Sherlock said finally, changing his hand into a fist onto the table as he hung his head regretfully.
"What are you apologizing for? There's nothing wrong here, there's never been anything wrong! I was just, well I was processing. I needed to take a day, now I'm back, and I don't want you apologizing for nothing." John insisted sharply, to which Sherlock nodded, looking back up at him as if amazed at how easily he took command.
"No, you deserve a day to process. I needed one as well; I just wasn't as smart as you were with it. I came here; I panicked, to be quite honest. I was worried about you; I was worried that I might have made you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention, Mr. Watson." Sherlock assured quietly. He finally sat onto the corner of his desk, as if carrying his own weight was becoming too strenuous of a task, and let the tips of his toes still dangle against the ground.
"I wasn't uncomfortable, Sherlock, for it had been equally our own faults, what happened Monday night. It was just, well it had been different. I know that I was probably just another man for you, but that was my first time ever being with anyone, and it was just...well it was strange." John admitted finally.
"No, Mr. Watson you're not just another man. Please don't think that of yourself, you were the most wonderful man I've ever been with, just because this time I felt as though the right emotions were present. Most of the men I've been with, their love was soulless, it was hallow. And yet you, you had that spark John, I felt as though your heart was truly being passed along, and I do hope you feel the same. This wasn't just...it wasn't just a night. It was a lifetime, Mr. Watson, it was beautiful." Sherlock assured gently, suddenly adopting that same persona that he had worn that night. He was quiet now, quiet and beautiful, with his legs stretched to the floor and his arms supporting him on the desk so that his shirt buttons strained just enough to reveal his skin. And here we go again, John felt the very same way he had that night. It was an enchantment, it must be, the tone of Sherlock's voice was enough to put a spell on him, it was enough to distort his reality into a place where this was acceptable. He took a step forward, however he knew that he really shouldn't. Sherlock smiled at him, and so John took another step. This happened so quickly and so numerously that he was right next to that man again, in a blink of his eye he was within a foot of the very man he had fallen in love with so quickly. It was happening again, and yet this time he knew it wouldn't go anywhere farther than their imaginations. School was in session, after all.
"And you, you don't have any nerves about it? You haven't...regretted it?" John wondered nervously, half expecting Sherlock to admit now that he had been pondering it all throughout yesterday. Maybe it would come as a relief to hear that he had the same sort of nerves that John had, maybe it would help make himself feel more normal if he discovered that Sherlock was also rather regretful of what had happened.
"No of course not, no I don't regret a thing." Sherlock assured, looking as though he wanted to lift up his hand to John's face and yet suddenly decided against it. They both knew that lunch was a terrible time to show any sort of affection, especially when all anyone had to do was turn the knob to walk in on them.
"Good, that's good." John murmured, and yet he turned his gaze away quietly.
"But you do, don't you John? You regret it?" Sherlock guessed quietly, and this time John couldn't really lie. He didn't know what was wrong with it, he didn't know why he felt so wrong, even in front of Sherlock now he felt as though he would love to kiss him, or be with him again, God Monday night seemed so far away now and yet he still wanted to go back! And yet there were thoughts that couldn't be ignored, feelings that had been preying on his mind ever since he had let this man take him in his arms. He was considering now if the truth was supposed to come out. He was wondering if his real identity was just on the tip of his tongue.
"It's not that I regret it, Sherlock it's just that I feel as if this is going too quickly. I'm mad at myself for not making this somehow more...romantic? Like in the movies, they start slow, if someone were writing this we would've just kissed and been done, at least for them. And yet...did I somehow spoil it? Did I ask for too much too abruptly?" John wondered nervously, finally finding Sherlock's eyes and seeing that they were wide and sympathetic, he found that Sherlock looked about ready to take John in his arms once again, just to ensure him that a love worth having didn't always have to represent the movies.
"I think, Mr. Watson, that the perfect explanation for that is that we already had gone slowly. Now we've never done anything before, and yet I think that I'm correct in saying we've had kisses before, nonphysical kisses, that we just never knew about. I think we'd both fallen in love long before we accepted it, and I think that through the span of our relationship, the part that was never truly documented, well Monday night was just the appropriate timing for what was supposed to happen. I think from now on we should just...well we should follow our time line appropriately. No more hiding from what we both know is the truth." Sherlock suggested with a soft smile. John could only nod, for even though he wasn't quite following he knew that any rationalization from Sherlock's mouth was enough to convince him. He had sort of known that whatever issues he had with this happening would be resolved by a simple little lecture from the mouth of his beautiful companion, and that was just how it ended. Because he was right, Sherlock was always right, their relationship had been going on for much longer than Monday night, it had just never been obvious. Love was a curious thing, and it had its way of presiding over two people even if they were too stubborn to notice its presence. Last Monday was their time not just to fall in love, but to display it, but to prove its existence! They had already fallen in love days before, so why should they pretend like simply addressing it was the equivalent of falling once more?
"You're right, you're right of course." John agreed quietly, bowing his head now for he felt slightly guilty. He was bothering Sherlock by wasting his time with his silly little worries, and to think that he had taken all yesterday to think about the very matter that Sherlock had resolved within five seconds of hearing the predicament! What a child he was, worrying about things with such simple explanations!
"I'm happy you get to see..." Sherlock cut himself off without a moment to loose, falling so quickly off of the desk and grabbing at a random paper on his desk as quickly as John could blink, so quickly that John had never noticed the door being opened. 

    "Oh! Sorry Sherlock, I didn't realize that you had a student." Said a familiar female voice, the exact same that John had been forced to listen to for the whole of first period. He turned to see Mrs. Hooper at the door, leaning politely against the door as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to enter or not.
"No, no it's fine of course. We are just going over test answers, Mr. Watson wasn't here yesterday and he hadn't gotten the opportunity to look over his test yet." Sherlock assured with a smile, so easily adopting the calm and collective personality that he was supposed to have in school hours. John, on the other hand, found it almost impossible to be calm, he was worried about how much Mrs. Hooper had seen, for their proximity just seconds before was enough to get someone's brain turning.
"Well this is the genius, isn't it? How many questions could he have gotten wrong?" Mrs. Hooper asked with a laugh, starting her way into the classroom without closing the door behind her, almost as if she felt like it wasn't necessary for her to give the three of them privacy. John could hardly breathe much less respond, for the tense air between he and Sherlock was starting to fade away, leaving him feel rather hallow inside, leaving him extremely anxious.
"Oh just one, actually, and yet it was quite the enigma." Sherlock admitted with a smile.
"That's quite understandable; you can't ace every test I suppose." Mrs. Hooper assured, as if she was trying to comfort John about some fictitious test answer. John knew, of course, that the test he had taken on Monday had not been graded yet, for it took Sherlock way too long to grade tests in a normal span of two days. Now of course Monday night had been dedicated to things other than test grading, and so he knew that their tests would be even more delated. The piece of paper that Sherlock was holding up, John noticed, was simply some sort of rule sheet that happened to be sitting closest to the pair when they had broken apart.
"I can just go, Mr. Holmes, if you need to talk. I'll see you third block anyway." John offered, to which Sherlock just nodded, evidently seeing that he had no choice in the matter. Mrs. Hooper looked a bit guilty for scaring him away, but then again she really didn't know just what she had interrupted.
"Yes Mr. Watson that's fine. Good job on the test." Sherlock agreed with a little nod, making John smile rather nervously, bid them both farewell, and walk as swiftly as he could back into the hallway, just so that he didn't have to listen to anything else that came out of the teachers' mouths.