Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter Eleven: Persistent, Promiscuous Pratt

A/N: Contains spoilers for series 1 & 2 of Skins. Also, Dedication to @chocolate932 for all the votes/comments! I read them all and always keep in mind what you guys say about pairings etc. when writing.

*

"Stop it" John snaps, pushing Sherlock's hand away from his knee. "You're here to help me study!"

He'd been repeating those words over and over today but Sherlock was bloody persistent. Each time John slapped Sherlock's hand away, he'd replace it a moment or so later. Every time he said they were here to study Sherlock's smirk would just widen.

After their conversation last night, Sherlock hadn't tried anything. They'd climbed into bed, a pillows worth of space between them, and had drifted off perfectly fine. When they woke up they had been closer then before but still weren't touching. They'd then spent the whole day in the lake, laughing and joking.

It wasn't until after dinner when they started studying that Sherlock began to make moves. It really wasn't helping John to forget his dream. Every time he thought back to it the bed they were on had changed from the one in his bedroom to the soft white one here in the cabin.

Sherlock's hand slides onto his knee again, slowly climbing higher and breaking John out of his thoughts.

John quickly slaps away the stupidly skilled fingers and glares at the smirking boy sat across from him.

"Awh, come on, John. I've seen the way you look at my hands" His hand slides back onto John's thigh. He squeezes gently before continuing. "You want my hands all over you, don't you?"

John growls and shoves that his hand again.

More the once, John considered just snogging the tease to shut him up. John knew, however, he'd end up staying for far more than a kiss. No, he couldn't so much as look at Sherlock in that way.

He had to stay strong. Sherlock Holmes would not be getting into his pants any time soon. If ever.

"Is there anyone you haven't tried to shag?" John questions/snaps before Sherlock can put those damn hands on him again.

Sherlock pauses, as if having to really search his brain for the answer. John knows it's for show, though.

"Uh.." Sherlock continues to 'think' about it for moment before answering. "I've never tried to sleep with Irene, although she's tried a few times and... oh, Molly! I've never tried to bed her"

John's protective side kicks in then "Stay away from Molly. She's barely seventeen, she got--"

"Put into College at the tender age of sixteen because she was acing all her advanced classes. Yes, I'm aware" Sherlock rolls his eyes in I-know-everything way.

Through gritted teeth, John speak "If you go near her in that way, I swear to God..."

Sherlock looks far to amused as he smiles at John. "What? What'll you do to me, John?"

"I'll drown you" It was an odd way to threaten someone, but it was the first thing that popped into his head.

Sherlock's smile falls and he just looks at John for a moment, expression completely deadpanned.

"Sherlock..?" John frowns, worried by how quickly Sherlock's expression went from smug to void of emotion.

Sherlock doesn't so much as blank for a solid minute. He then looks down at the textbooks they had laid out over the bed and launches into a explanation of how to make Esters.

John listens and takes note while in some dark corner of his brain he was panicking around Sherlock. Each odd trait the boy showed, each time he seemed to have another issue with something, John found himself caring just a little more.

Everyday he got the impression that on the inside Sherlock was a child who didn't quite know how to deal with his emotions.

~

John exits their shared room the next morning, shuffling along and yawning. He was still in his pyjamas as it was just gone seven in the morning and they didn't have plans until half past nine.

He had no idea where Sherlock was but when he reached the end of the hall his question was answered. He could hear the TV playing softly and once John had rounded the corner he could see Sherlock sat on the sofa, watching something.

John entered the small kitchen area to make breakfast for himself. Sherlock didn't spare him a glance, never mind a greeting.

Used to Sherlock's odd behaviour John doesn't do anything besides roll his eyes.

Once John had a bowl of Cheerios he went to join Sherlock on the sofa. He was about to greet the other boy when he saw what was on the screen.

"Sherlock.. Are you watching Farscape?" John's tone is slightly disbelieving.

He finds it hard to believe, really. He never imagined any of his friends, much less Sherlock, would watch Farscape.

John, himself, watches programmes like this all the time. He was more then a little addictive to TV. His tastes ranged from Scooby Doo to Skins.

Harry often told him he should stop watching all of the shows, that he was rotting his brain cells with quotes from them all, but he couldn't help it. One episode and he was emotionally invested for life.

Sherlock hums "Red Dwarf wasn't on"

Okay, John thinks he just fell in love a little bit right there.

John stares at Sherlock, rather stupidly, his eyes searching for any sign that this was a trick and Sherlock was up to something. The curly haired teen wasn't even paying attention to John, he was far to focused on whatever Crichton and D'Argo where arguing about this time.

When John realises that it wasn't a joke he faces forward and watches the show with Sherlock. He was still shocked but was soon swept away into the world of one of his absolute favourite TV shows.

That's how Harry finds them. Although when she does wonder in the two boys had somehow moved so they were sitting with their arms and thighs pressed together.

"Really, John? Now you're trying to reel your friends into this stuff?" She gives him a mock disapproving look.

John huffs. "Sherlock put it on actually."

Harry looks shocked, and as disbelieving as John had, at first but then she glances at Sherlock, who was still focused on the TV. She raises an eyebrow.

"God, next I'll walk in to find you both fanboying over Taxxie moments" She rolls her eyes.

That seems to get Sherlock attention and he looks between them both, looking absolutely horrified. He actually looked like someone had stabbed him and told him that he was an unlovable ugly creature created in a lab by the village pervert. It sounds extreme, but that's how he looked.

John was sure that was the most emotion he'd ever seen on the other boy's face.

"Please tell me you don't ship Maxxie and Tony..." He looks to John.

John laughs and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. "Well..."

"No! John, how.. No! Tony belongs with Michelle" Sherlock had turned towards John now, showing him that he was more then ready for a shipping war.

Harry mutters something about old shows and fanboys and leaves John to fend for himself.

"Okay, yeah. Tony clearly loves Michelle but him and Max are so cute. I mean, that scene with the cigarette!" John almost squeals.

This is why Molly stopped asking him about his favourite shows.

"So were JJ and Emily but you don't ship them" Sherlock throws his arms up and huffs.

"That is completely different! Emily is a lesbian and was helping JJ!"  John frowns, crossing his arms.

"And Tony is straight and just got bored!"

"Clearly not that straight! He went down on Max!"

"He loves Michelle! He was going to tell her before that bus hit him!"

"And who was there for him after he got hit? Hm? Oh, right. Maxxie."

The two glare at each other. Cold blue, almost grey, eyes meeting darker blue ones. A weird energy/tension passes between the two teens as they stare, frozen in place, neither of them wanting to back down.

Then before either realise they start to laugh uncontrollably. Not even just a small chuckle at their immaturity either, but clutch-your-stomach-because-it-hurts laughter.

When they recover and are only slightly red faced they turn wordlessly to the TV again, continuing to watch Farscape.

Yeah, John thinks, he definitely fell in love little bit.

He could imagine it now. The two of them sitting together on their sofa in their flat or house, watching Farscape, Red Dwarf and arguing about Skins. It could be great. Really good.

That thought scared John. A hell of a lot. Sherlock was a 'player'. He didn't do relationships, even if there were more layers to him than what people as in front of them. Sherlock wasn't a cold sex God of a machine but he wasn't a sentimental romantic either.

As much as John knew he shouldn't be beginning to feel this way for the boy sat beside him, laughing at Aeryn and looking to attractive for his own good, he just couldn't help the way his brain and heart seemed to be longing for Sherlock.

Oh.. This was so very not good.

~

The days Sherlock choose to have breakfast with his family were always a little... difficult. The two Holmes brothers have never been overly fond of each other. On fact, they scarcely tolerated one another. So naturally, the jabs and pokes at one another were endless. Especially if Mycroft's boyfriend had stayed the night and Sherlock know about it (which he always did)

"Mycroft, did you notice that your boyfriend is actually rather hot?" Sherlock casually questions before shovelling chocolate Shreddies into his mouth.

"Mummy" The nineteen year old whines from behind his laptop "He's doing it again"

"Sherlock, honey, don't be such a..." Tart? Slag? Sex pest? "promiscuous individual at the breakfast table" That was her polite way of telling her son to stop being such a slut in the presence of family. 

Greg shifts awkwardly, glancing at his boyfriend and pleading silently with his eyes. Mycroft glares at the smirking Sherlock before taking Greg's hand and tugging him towards the exit.

When their mother's back was turned Mycroft stuck his middle finger up, saluting Sherlock in the most improper way. A laugh bubbled passed Sherlock's lips at the sight before the two boys drifting out the house and into Mycroft's car.

Sherlock turns back to his Shreddies to see his mother giving him a disapproving look, a ghost of a smile on her thin lips.

"Oh, Sherlock" The smile forms and she chuckles, shaking her head as she turns back to the stove.

Once his bowl was empty Sherlock rinses it and places it in the sink, leaving it for his mum to wash properly. With a small huff the short man bumps Sherlock out of the way with her hip and sets to cleaning up after her children.

"Sherlock..."

Oh great. Here come a 'mother' speech. With an almost audible sigh Sherlock turns to his mother and raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, mum?"

"I want you to talk to Jim" She doesn't meet his eyes as she wipes out the bowl but her tone is enough for Sherlock to get the message.

She was telling that Jim was important, no matter what happened. She was tell him that he was being silly and that he needs his best friend.

Silently, Sherlock grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder as he makes his way out. When he gets to the kitchen exit, his mother speaks again.

"Sherlock" Her tone is firmer, showing that she thought enough was enough. Sherlock had to take action now.

Sherlock looks over his shoulder and mutters one words before leaving.

"Maybe"

And maybe, just maybe, he would.