Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter Fourteen: You've missed me

*

The beds were crappy, more springs than mattress. The curtain barely managed to provide as a barrier to the sun. The plastering on the walls and ceiling was covered in cracks and the place looked like it didn't know what a hoover was.

Anyone in their right mind would have run away of they were told they were going to be staying here for anywhere between a week and two weeks. More than one night seemed like too long in this hell hole. How it was still in business was a mystery.

Although, of course, Jim wasn't in his right mind and so when Irene said they'd be staying here he had just wondered over to the bed and just curled in on himself in a half hearted attempt to catch some shut eye.

Irene didn't question him. Simply whispered a goodnight and climbed into her own uncomfortable bed. She lay awake for a long time, listening to Jim's breathing steady then change as he drifted in and out of sleep.

It annoyed her- pissed her off to no end- that Sherlock could do this to his best friend. Yes, Jim did something wrong but friends stood by one another. No matter what.

She'd say one look at Jim would tell anyone he regrets it but Irene knows that's not true. The whole thing scared Jim, sure, but it was being without Sherlock that was doing this to him.

They needed each other. Irene knew it. Jim knew it. Sherlock knew it. She just feared the boys were too stubborn to admit it. 

Two days passed that way. Jim in bed and silent. Irene worried for Jim and angry with Sherlock.

Then Jim's phone buzzed. The Irish boy had pulled himself into a sitting position, his expression blank and his mood weighing down his shoulders. While Irene was interested in the text, it cut her to see Jim this way. Part of her wished that Sherlock was here to see what he was doing to his friend.

Jim taps away at his phone, lips occasionally twitching into a small brief smile.

Sherlock. Irene guesses.

The messages end and Jim places his phone down on his bedside table. Irene was half expecting him to curl up into a ball again. To her surprise, and delight, the boy stood up and stretched. He gave her a small smile.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving and in the mood for a ridiculous and unhealthy amount of junk food" He crosses the room pick up his bag.

Irene does the same, smiling at him. They change and get their wallets/purses before they exit the shitty room and breath in gulps of fresh air like they desperately needed it. They probably did.

An hour later they were sat at a horridly orange coloured table in McDonald's surrounded by enough fries to feed ten hungry children. There wasn't any conversation for the first five minutes, just the two of them eating and filling their empty stomachs.

They slow down after five minutes, sitting back and just picking at their meals and sipping their drinks.

"What's the plan then?" Irene questions after swallowing.

Jim hums. "I want to go home"

"Alright. When do you want to leave?"

"Not yet" He shrugs, sipping from his milkshake again.

Thank you, Jim, Irene thinks sarcastically, that was completely and utterly helpful.

Irene just nods and continues to eat. They'd go home when Jim was good and ready.

"Has your mum tried to call?" Jim speaks up again sometime.

"What do you think?" Irene snaps, automatically pushing people away at the mention of her oh-so-caring mother.

Jim nods, dropping the conversation as they return to eating in silence. His mind wonders back to the conversation with Sherlock.

They'd reverted into their old flirty ways. Yet Jim couldn't bring himself to be happy about that. He didn't want to just go back to the way things were. He needed Sherlock to acknowledge what had happened. He wanted Sherlock to help him ensure his tracks where covered.

He knew he was fine. Police ruled it as an accident but knowing Sherlock was willing to help would ease Jim's mind a considerable amount.

With a small sigh, Jim sinks back into his seat.

The week passes faster than either of them expect. Before they even realise it, it's Friday again. Scrolling over his messages Jim purses his lips.

A week. Just one. Then come home.

Maybe.

It had been a week since they'd had that conversation. Sherlock was expecting him back.

Part of him wanted to keep him waiting. Let him suffer and miss Jim. Another part of him wanted to pack his bags and rush home, into Sherlock's arms.

That thought scared him, though. Sure, they were great friends but with the way things are between them it'd be far to easy to misinterpret their feelings as more. Neither of them were used to talking.

They had sex when they needed to release their emotions. But this.. This was different. They couldn't just fuck away the fact that Sherlock had turned against his friend so easily without listening to Jim's side.

He didn't have to agree with Jim but he could have at least listened.

That's what hurt the most. That Sherlock just jumped to conclusions and practically disowned his friend. Sherlock was supposed to know and trust him, stick by him, especially during the bad times.

Not only did that hurt Jim, it made him angry as hell. Sherlock deserved some of this heart wrenching pain he'd caused. The ridiculous boy got away with far too much in life, and hurting his friend should not be one of those things!

"Jim" Irene's voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"It's been a week..."

With a sigh, Jim nods. "Alright. Let's go home"

"You sure?"

"Sure"

~

A laugh bubbles past John's lips as he fiddles with his coffee cup. Molly was sat across from him, looking as awkward as he felt. When the laugh escapes him Molly's lips pull up in a smile and she raises her hand to try and cover her own laugh.

The first twenty minutes of the date had been good. They walked to the coffee shop, laughing and joking, and they'd got their coffee. Then they had sat down and both gone silent, suddenly realising that they were on a date.

It was just plain awkward. They'd been friends for so long. The idea of them holding hands... kissing... was extremely disturbing and weird. They were practically siblings.

Molly giggles louder then for a moment,  before they both go quieter.

"So much for that idea" Molly snorts with a grin.

John hums. "Well. At least we know we're very much friend-zoned each other"

Molly nods and leans forward, sipping her coffee. She scans John's face in that way she does, like she's reading John's mind and discovering his deepest darkest secrets.

"We're both too busy pining after Sherlock to even consider other people, anyway" Molly shrugs with a smirk.

John splutters at those words, almost choking on his coffee. "What?!" He asks, loud enough to attract a few looks from nearby tables.

Molly laughs at him again, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. Her hand goes to her necklace, fiddling with the pendant.

"Oh, C'mon John. I know you think he's good looking and I know that recently you've been getting to know him better. You like him as a person too" She states in a matter of fact kind of tone.

John purses his lips, thinking carefully about his reply. "I don't see how that matters"

"You're going to his tonight, aren't you? To study" Molly tilts her head to the side.

John narrows his eyes at the girl across from him. She was planning something. Or trying to suggest something at the very least.

"Where's this going, Mols?"

"He likes spending time with you"

"I-"

"He trusts you"

"I-"

"He's been trying to sleep with you" Molly smirks

John falls silent at that. He couldn't deny that one at all. Sherlock had definitely been trying to sleep with him. For a while now.

But that didn't mean anything. Sherlock tries to sleep with lots of people. The fact he wants John in bed doesn't mean anything special. It doesn't mean John is anything special to him, that's for sure.

"If anything Molly, the fact he hasn't tried to sleep with you is far more note worthy" John replies, drinking from his cup as he lets his words sink in.

Molly raises an eyebrow at that. "He doesn't try to sleep with me because of everything that's happened between us. He probably would if it weren't for the past"

John pauses, going silent again. What the hell was he meant to say to that?..

Molly wasn't going to tell him what happened between them to supposedly save Sherlock's life and gain the usually shy girl respect from The Trio. Many people in the school had wondered what happened and while John knew more than most, he didn't want Molly to tell him. He'd much prefer Sherlock to tell him. When and if he wants to.

Molly sighs. "There's more to Sherlock than sex, John"

John scoffs. "I know that, Molly. Doesn't mean I should assume he even wants a relationship. You heard Mycroft earlier this week. Sherlock doesn't think positively of emotions like that, he's going to steer well clear of relationship that are anything more than sex"

Molly hums, clearly not convinced.

"Plus, if he were to have a relationship. It'd probably be with Jim or someone. They're best friends and more.."

Molly makes a face at that, as if in pain, but she nods, agreeing with him.

"Yeah.." Doesn't mean it'll stay that way, she adds mentally as she takes another gulp of burning coffee.  " They're quite close"

John laughs and shakes his head. That was the understatement of the century.

~

"You know, in the past week we've only managed to get in like three hours of study time. We always end up procrastinating" Sherlock murmurs as his eyes flicker over the book in his lap.

He's sat on his bed, crossed legged and chewing on a strawberry lace as he reads and shots random questions about Chemistry at John. This is the first question that hasn't been directly about Chemistry.

John blinks. "What are you suggesting?"

Sherlock sighs and stretches back onto his bed. "A break"

John nods, completely in agreement as he slumps in the desk chair. They'd been going over equations and reactions for hours now.

"How was the date?" Sherlock asks, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at his friend.

"Awkward" John laughs before yawning. He rubs his eyes and looks down at his watch. "Jesus, is that the time?"

Sherlock puffs out a breath and looks over to the clock on the wall, yawning himself, as if John yawning and acknowledging the time suddenly made him aware of how tired he was.

"Yup. Midnight"

John stands and stretches. "At least we don't have college tomorrow," He picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. "I should get going"

Sherlock sits up.  "You didn't drive here and you live almost half an hour away. Just stay the night"

John pauses for what seemed the thousandth time that night.

Staying the night at Sherlock's house. In Sherlock's room. In his bed...

Sounds like another night of fighting off Sherlock advances.

Then again, he was exhausted. Both of them were. Maybe Sherlock wouldn't try anything.

"You sure your mum will be alright with that?" He asks, still trying to work out in his head if he should stay.

Sherlock shrugs. "She'll be perfectly fine with it. She likes you"

John smiles and put his bag back down. "That's nice"

Sherlock doesn't reply, just rolls out of the bed and throws the Chemistry book on the floor of the 'dirty side' of his room. He crosses to his wash basket and starts to undress, dumping all his clothes into the basket.

John really tries to not gape like a brain dead fish but he can't help it. Not when Sherlock is just standing there in his boxers looking like a freaking underwear model with his tight black briefs and perfect everything.

Sherlock had his back to John and the writer takes the chance to let his gaze drop, He was sure Sherlock had the best arse on either side of the pond. God, John wishes he could get his hands on in.

He doesn't realise that Sherlock had turned until he suddenly couldn't see Sherlock's lovely rump but the front of his underwear which left little to the imagination.

John's cheeks flush a hot pink as he looks back up to Sherlock's face, embarrassed about being caught openly staring. Sherlock, the bastard, was just smirking at him.

"Like what you see, John?"

Yes. "Piss off"

Sherlock laughs before he returns to his bed, laying on one side and leaving the cover open as an invitation for John to join him. He sits up on his side of the bed, propped up against the pillows.

John frowns. "Are you going to watch me undress?"

Sherlock smirks wider. "Obviously. You won't let me touch, so I'll just look"

The atmosphere seems to shift then. From light flirting and joking to something more intense.

With a sharp intake of breath, John does his best to ignore Sherlock and starts to undress. With each bit of clothing that he dropped to the floor (making sure it was in the 'dirty side') John could feel his cheeks getting brighter and brighter as he grew even more embarrassed.

When he was done he's quick to get in the bed and cover himself with the blankets. Sherlock picks up something on his bedside table, aims and throw it at the light switch by his door.

The room immediately gets dark, making John blink to adjust to the change.

"Jammy sod" John laughs, sinking down into the covers.

Sherlock laughs too and John can feel him shift to lay down. He doesn't mean to but he glances over.

He freezes. Sherlock is looking straight at him, he can see his eyes and feel them on his face. Without thinking, John shifts onto his side so he's facing Sherlock as well.

Neither say anything but a moment later John feels a hand slide onto his hip. He open his mouth to protest but nothing comes out. He doesn't shove the hand away, finding that he really didn't want to.

Sherlock squeezes and shifts closer. John's breathing catches at the new proximity.

"Sher--"

"Shh.." Sherlock breathes the word, placing a finger on John's lips.

John shuts up immediately, his eyes returning to Sherlock's after a brief glance at Sherlock's finger. Sherlock's hand moves then, fingers brushing against John's cheek, caressing it.

John wasn't sure if he was just him or not but the air seemed to be filled with some unknown, unnamed, emotion.

Sherlock shifts again, slowly rolling them over so he was settled on John's hips. John swallows, his hands sliding up Sherlock's thigh.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the doorbell going so. He was far more concerned about the beautiful boy above him to pay any attention.

Sherlock dips down, his lips hovering other John's. In response, John tries to lean up and capture his lips but doesn't succeed. He sinks back into the pillows and waits for Sherlock to kiss him or do whatever he planned to do.

"If we go further, are you going to be angry with me in the morning?" Sherlock breathes, barely whispering, his eyes fixed on John's lips.

John licks his lips, hoping to tempt Sherlock. "No-- mmmph"

As soon as the word passed John's lips, Sherlock was on him, kissing him as if his life depended on it. John opens his mouth when he feels Sherlock's hot tongue probe at his lower lip.

Instead of pushing his tongue into John's mouth as he expected, Sherlock sucks John's lower lip between his own, biting softly as he pulls at the flesh.

"Christ" John stuttered, his hand raising to the back of Sherlock's head to pull him closer.

Sherlock gives a soft groan before sliding his tongue out to meet John's.

John shivers as their tongue brush together for the first time. It's innocent for a few moments but before John knows it Sherlock is using his tongue in ways that should be illegal. Sherlock was practically fucking his mouth with that skillful tongue. God, it was heaven.

They pull back, breathing heavy, and they share air for a few moments longer before Sherlock sits up for he can align himself with John's body. John grips at his hips, loving having Sherlock above him. He wasn't even nervous about this being his first experience with a guy.

Sherlock places both hands either side of John's head, getting ready to grind their clothed erections together. His eyes meet John's in a silent question, giving John another chance to say no.

John gives a nod just as the door opens. Light explodes around the room in the next second, blinding John momentarily.

"Well, I can see you've missed me" drawls a cheeky Irish voice.

Sherlock rolls off John and up immediately, eyes wide.

"Jim..."