Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter Three: Idiots

*

Jesus. These girls were draining all of Irene's energy... and she absolutely loved them for it. She was definitely going to the next party. Those exchange students were crazy. Crazy and sexy. Damn... That Charlotte and her curves. Irene could happily spend hours tracing them with her tongue.

Sadly, she couldn't because she on the way to their last lesson, Dance, now and was slumped against Molly as they walk in silence, both thinking.

Sherlock and Jim both had gone home to do God knows what.. If Irene knowns them, and she does, they were either trying to get laid, getting laid, smoking or sitting in Sherlock's room and taking the mick out of poor Mycroft.

Seeing as the boys didn't take Dance or Art, the two subject being taught to their year this hour, they were free to go home. Although Irene knew that Sherlock had wanted to do dance, he was just a little.. unfocused when they got to choose their subjects. She can't blame him, she'd be unfocused too if she were in his place at that time. He was far more focused on--

"Hey" Molly laughs, breaking the other out of her thoughts as she holds Irene up.

"Sorry, babe" Irene laughs back, pecking Molly's cheek and trying to stand straight.

Her exhaustion wins however and she slumps back towards Molly again. They stop for a moment, shake Irene awake and then continue down the corridor and into the dance studio.

They enter the changing rooms and the place falls almost completely silent as the other girls stare. Irene was used to be stared at, but this was different. Half looked sad, others (few) looked happy and then around three of the girls looked outraged.

That confused both of them. Sure, they didn't take this class because the liked dance or anything but their class mates had long accepted that this was a workout for Irene and an aid for a well rounded report for Molly. So, Irene didn't see why they were standing and glaring like they'd just drowned their baby kitten in a river.

One of the three slowly walks up to them, glaring at Molly. She was dressed in pure white and had feather's all over her, due to the up coming Swan Lake production, but it did little to make her seem sweet or innocent.

Molly, being the small shy girl she is, shrinks back and Irene automatically steps in front of her friend, her exhaustion forgotten, as she gives the glaring girl a sickly sweet smile.

"Can I help you?"

The girl automatically hesitates before giving a quick nod "Just wanted to ask Molly here a few questions..."

Irene sidesteps, allowing the girl to talk to Molly but still keeping an eye on her. Molly may be an intelligent girl capable of saving a certain curly haired teens life but she was not a fighter. This dancer could easily cause some damage to the sweet girl, should she try.

Irene would make sure Molly was safe. Both of them knew that and by the look of the dancer's face, she did too.

The brunette skinny twig takes her eyes off Irene then and looks to Molly, more specifically Molly's necklace.

"Heard you got that pretty gift from Sherlock..." The skinny bitch snarls, apparently forgetting the students Irene had hospitalised for taking the piss out of her friend's half a year ago.

Molly's hand automatically comes up to hold and protect the necklace, which already held so much meaning to her. Not that she was about to tell this girl, whose name she didn't even know, the story of her and Sherlock. Not that there was any of story in the way these mean dancers thought there was, or was soon to be.

"I did" The science student replies, jutting her chin out confidently. Irene's presence beside her helps give her the sudden self-confidence to stand her ground a bit more.

Without a friend Molly expects she'd be a quivering wreck as this clearly wasn't a battle of wits.

"So, are you, like, his girlfriend or something?" As she speaks the brunette runs her eyes all the way down to Molly's toes and back up with an unimpressed look.

She rose an eyebrow. Molly could almost hear what she was thinking.

Why would Sherlock, the school's hottest player, go for her, a tiny quiet and seemingly shy science student who secretly preferred the company of dead bodies?

Had she actually been involved with Sherlock, Molly would be asking herself that exact question. Although, she might actually be able to answer, what with saving his life and all.

Molly shakes her head, to both her thoughts and the question.

"I'm not" and with another sudden burst of courage she brushes past the girl to go change into her dance stuff.

The dancer watches her go, glaring as she mentally maps out ways to force more information out of Molly about everything that is the sex-god, otherwise known as Sherlock.

This is when Irene steps incredibly close, her face inches from the bitchy dancer's and her eyes narrowed in a deadly glare. Sensing the proximity of another, the dancer turns to face Irene.

Her eyes widen in surprise and slight traces of fear, swallowing audibly but standing her ground. Irene did have to admire for not automatically taking a step back.

"If I catch you trying to lay a finger on my friend's or if I hear you chatting shit about Sherlock or Molly..." She pauses for a millisecond, eyes narrowing further "I promise you that you won't make it back to the lake, Little Swan"

The taller girl, who came across more as a women worthy of a throne, glides by and joins Molly in changing.

The dancer and bystanders go back to laughing and chatting about their nails or whatever the hell they squeal about it their spare time, pretending that whole scene with Molly never happened.

""Fucking idiots" Irene mutters as she pulls on her yoga/dance top.

Molly tried to stop herself, but she couldn't, she burst out in giggles. She sends Irene a large open mouthed smile as she continues to change and laugh.

Irene flashes her own grin, chuckling along.

~

Other the next few days, Sherlock doesn't sleep with anyone. It didn't help the rumours of him and Molly but he didn't care about that; him, his friends and John would most certainly look out for her.

She wasn't weak, but Sherlock, Jim and Irene all knew how these people could get about their crushes and obsessions. To the girls of this school, Sherlock and Jim were the guys that didn't get emotionally attached and would be happy to sleep with everyone, anyone and their cousin. They wanted to change them, be the one to catch their attention and keep their hearts. If they thought someone had taken their favourite slut.. Well, it would be bad news and a college life of pain for that person.

Anyway back to the point, the tall eighteen year old hadn't slept with a single person. Sherlock was confident that he could sit back, try to tempt and flirt with John while he hard the wild card. It was true too. Without the limitations of a certain type of person, he could wait a few weeks into the term, probably even half of it, before he had to start playing to win.

Jim and Irene had been focused on the Game, desperate to beat their friend. Sherlock had always been the one to out shine them, making it all the sweeter to beat him. They could only imagine the look on Sherlock's face if they beat him when he had a wild card.

It was Thursday now, four days after the draw, and they were in the lunch room. Molly and John had taken to sitting with them daily and the blonde was becoming a solid part of their little group. He'd slowly begun to form bounds with Jim and Irene but he found it harder with Sherlock, as he'd been constantly flirting and seductive.

This lunch, however, Sherlock and his rolling fruit were no where to be seen. While it was annoying as hell sometimes, they all missed the familiar sound of the not perfectly rounded apple rolling around.

When she noticed, Irene didn't say a word about how John's eyes continuously moved to the doors where Sherlock would normally emerge. Even Molly, who had a little crush on the boy, and Jim, who was his best friend, didn't watch the door half as intently as John did.

"Where'd you think Sherlock is?" Molly ponders aloud as she shoves a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

John looks back to the table and over at Jim and Irene, obviously hopeful they'd have answers.

"Probably sulking over how we're whipping his arse" Jim laughs, easily hiding his worry from everyone expect Irene.

Jim was worried though. Sherlock, who didn't like to say so, was slightly OCD and had to do things a certain way. Other then colour codes, his biggest thing was routine. He had a routine and didn't like to deviate from it.

Irene goes along with it, placing a comforting hand on Jim's arm. "Mm. He's still on two. I'm on five and Jim is at three and a half"

John frowns, as he always does when they start to mention The Game. "He's stopped sleeping with people..?"

Irene debated between two ways John could have mentally finished that sentence/question.

The first was: Since he meet me

The other was: Since he gave Molly the necklace

"He hasn't stopped, he's just being a cocky bastard because he got the wild card" Jim says. It's the first time Molly and John have heard about the wild card.

"Which means...?" John trails off again, still seeking answers to his no-doubt extensive list of questions.

"He has a distinct advantage this term" Jim smirks, not giving much away.

The three friend's didn't like to give much information away on The Game, even to Molly, they much preferred to be mysterious. It helped to separate them.

Before John could reply the doors open and a very pissed off Sherlock comes stalking towards them. The tight purple shirt does little to hide how tense he is. His fists are clenched, but he unclenched them as he gets closer, and his hair looks like he'd ruffled it angrily one too many times. His piercing blue eyes are fixed on Jim as he walks straight towards him, ignoring everyone around him.

Jim straightens immediately. "Oh, Sherlock's angry. God, I love it when he's angry"

No more words are exchanged as Sherlock strides up to Jim, without looking at anyone else, and tugs him up roughly by his elbow. The silent teen is quick to lead his friend back the way he came.

Jim was practically bouncing with excitement.

It wasn't until they had left that John could bring himself out of the shock of not having Sherlock wink, flirt or even acknowledge him enough so that he could talk.

"Oh my f.. Are they...?"

"Yup" Irene's nods, popping the 'p' before she takes a bite of her sandwich, her eyes on John to study his reaction.

He shifts awkwardly, flexing his writing hand "So.. He's in a mood and he's going to fuck Jim?"

Irene nods, eyes still scanning.

"He gets emotional and he fucks people?" John asks, wide eyed and tone disbelieving.

"Not people. Jim. Unless he's sad, then Jim fucks him.. I think. Not sure on the species, you'd have to ask them" She shrugs at the end, not really wanting to know what her two best friends did to each other in order to escape their emotions.

It was kind of cheating in The Game but they never counted it as points and it helped them so she didn't really want to bring it up. It was kind of a rule on it's own. Jim and Sherlock could shag whenever they wanted.

"That's seriously messed up.." John shakes his head, popping a chip in his mouth and chewing slowly as he frowns, a thought expression on his face. 

Irene smiles sadly "Oh sweetie, Sherlock's is messed up"

Both Molly and John look up at her sharply. Irene could see Molly screaming with her eyes. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! While John seemed very confusion and inquisitive.

Seems she'd added more questions on the list. Oops.

"What--"

"Let's change the subject" Molly cuts in, looking at her food but her tone telling John that this conversation is over.

When John has also looked down, Molly sends a glance Irene's way. The young women stares back, raising an eyebrow and telling Molly with a look that she would never had said anything more. After a few more moment's of Molly's disapproving stare, Irene looks away in shame.

It's probably bad how Irene's first thought was how she really quite liked the way Molly was the boss of John.