Just A Game [Teenlock]

Chapter Twelve: Too late

A/N: Dedication to @CatFancierAbby for two reasons! One: All the votes/comments. Like seriously. Asdfghjkl. and, Two: I know you have a special place in your heart for a certain pairing...

*

Sherlock, as always, rolled his eyes at the fools that buzzed around excitedly when the news of a new student was spread around.

That was, until he met the girl. Within the first five minutes of knowing her Sherlock's opinion changed three times.

First, he thought she was nice enough and would be an easy point. She was clearly no stranger to another stranger's sheets. She was flirty enough too. Obviously attracted to Sherlock.

Then he started to notice how similar she was to a certain Irish boy would hadn't made an appearance on this dull Monday morning. As he already stated, she was a terrible flirt. Her eyes were a soft brown (but not as nice as Jim's) and she even had an Irish lit (again, hers wasn't quite up to par with Jim's). Sherlock decided then that he didn't like her.

But then.. Then she got to know her a little more. Saw how she wasn't the same as Jim. She was her known person and, most importantly, still an easy fuck. So Sherlock invited her round for the evening, distracting himself from his kind of promise to his mother and the fact that he hadn't seen Jim nor Irene that day.

Things were going great. The new girl, Janine, was great in bed and her personality gave Sherlock a familiar warmth. One he refused to acknowledge as a longing for Jim's presence.

Now, the key word there was 'were'. Things were going great.

That is.. Until they began approaching the finish line.

Sherlock was on sparkling form, as ever. He'd got Janine off three times. Once with just his mouth. And she was well on the way for her fourth. Apparently, she reminded Sherlock of Jim enough that it was his name on Sherlock's lips as he toppled over the edge.

The two of them just stared at one another for a few moments. Janine was confused, she didn't look hurt by his words, just confused. Sherlock was panicking. Not because he'd not moaned her name but because it hit him in that moment just how much he missed his friend, and not just in the bedroom.

He missed having Jim laugh with him. He missed working with him to pinch Irene's lighters. He missed the way they just understood each other.

While Sherlock was having a mental breakdown, Janine had brought her hand up to his cheeks and was searching his eyes. Not in a loving way, oh no, she was rooting through his brain to figure out who Jim was.

"Whoever he is, whatever has happened. Talk to him. You need him"

Sherlock nods and pecks her lips. "Thank you, 103"

She just winks as he straightens and pulls on fresh underwear. He tosses her a pack of cigarettes and an old red lighter he had laying around before turning to his wardrobe.

He pulls on a simple shirt, a deep purple coloured one and then a pair of his usual jeans. A check in the mirror later, Sherlock had his phone and keys in hand and left his house.

Grey clouds were brewing and rain was gently drizzling onto Sherlock. He didn't stop or turn back for a coat. He just crossed the grass, not caring if he stood on his mother's tulips, and climbed into his car.

The drive was short, giving the near bipolar teen no chance to change his mind or talk himself out of it.

He was going to see Jim. His best friend. His partner in crime. His first friend. His Jim.

~

"Hey, Molly....?" John raises an eyebrow at the girl on his doorstep.

He adored her, she was his own angel at times but one thing he knew about this girl was that she always called before coming round to his. His dad often had business partner or co-workers round for dinner which meant a strict no friends policy when that was the case.

Molly smiles and offers a small wave despite before less three feet away from John. She leans forward and peers into the house, as if all secrets would suddenly be revealed once she got a glimpse of his hallway.

"Does your dad have anyone here?" She asks, still looking around him.

John shakes his head. "No. All of his 'meetings' are later this week"

Molly nods and gestures into the house, raising an eyebrow at her friend as she does. John's face lights up and he steps back to allow her in.

It'd been so long since the two of them had hung out, just them. With all the studying and drama with The Trio they'd drifted apart somewhat. John had intended to fix that with the weekend trip up to the cabin but Molly was visiting her grandma and couldn't make it. She was the one that suggested he invite Sherlock.

"I know it's Monday and we've got College in the morning but I thought we could have a movie night. Relax a little. God knows we could both do with it" Molly gives a small huff as she drapes her coat over a box that sat in the coat closet.

She kicks off her shoes and they land beside the box with a quiet thump. She seems to relax largely then and turns to her friend with a smile.

John finally nods. "Yeah, movie night sounds great. Upstairs?"

Molly bows slightly and gestures for him to go first. "Lead the way, my sexually confused friend"

Chuckling, John slides his hand along the banister as they climb the stairs. "Not all that confused any more..."

"Ah, so you realised, or rather figured out, that it's not all in your head?"

"Why do you assume that? I could have easily realised that it was all in my head and that it was all a phase." John knew it was pointless to argue. Molly was one smart cookie.

Molly didn't reply until they'd entered John's bedroom.

"Because I see the way you look at Sherlock. Like you're going to jump on him at any second" Molly laughs, laying on her stomach on top of his quilts, facing the TV.

John kneels in front of the TV and opens the cabinet containing all his DVDs and video games. His eyes are pink at the tips and his cheeks are hot as he casually runs his finger down the DVDs, searching for one that strikes his fancy. He was rather glad Molly couldn't see how red he'd turned.

"Well, he's a looker" John doesn't miss a beat. "Labyrinth? Dark Crystal? Warm Bodies? Death Note? Or... Oh! What about Frozen? Wait, did we finish watching Life on Mars?"

Molly's mind seems to focus on the movies and forget about the whole Sherlock conversation. "We have one episode of series one left and the whole of series two.."

John pulls out the box set of Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes.

"Life on Mars it is then!" John sing-songs as he sets up the TV.

Molly laughs from the bed. This seemed to be the only show that she could bare to watch with John.  He had no idea if it was because it was a crime series or if he just squealed about the others so much it put her off for life. Maybe both?

Ten minutes later the two of them were curled together on the bed, stuffing their faces wit popcorn and watching every flicker of movement of the screen.

It wasn't long, well it didn't seem long, before the clock had ticked passed midnight and they were roughly half way into the second series. The popcorn was long gone and they were wrapped up in the covers and each other, squeezing whenever the characters were in dangers and shaking when someone on screen (usually Gene) did something funny.

The final episode came to an end and the two sat in silence for a few minutes before John moved to switch on the light and the TV off. Molly sat up in the bed, frowning at the TV.

"I understand why you get emotionally invested. Jeez.. I swear I almost cried when he took the run up" She makes a few exaggerated hand gestures before sinking down into the covers, letting out a slow huff as she does.

John put everything back in place as he nods, agreeing with her.

"Yeah. They somehow crawl their way into your heart. Then even when it ends and the closure is bloody perfect you're a ruined mess that wants more"

He slides into the bed next to her after turning off the light. They lay there for a few moments, mind reeling. With one last sigh Molly turns and cuddles into John, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Mols?" John questions the younger girl, an arm wrapping around her as he does.

"Mm, John?" Her reply was half mumbled, on the verge of sleep.

"What today honestly about relaxing? I love having you round and all but you never just turned up out of the blue" John yawns towards the end of the sentence, sinking further into Molly's warmth and the bed.

"If I'm honest.." Another yawn but from Molly. "I came round to ask you on a date"

Before the words could wake John up enough for them to sink in, Molly's soft snores filled the room. At first John thought she was faking, maybe fearing his reaction, but it became clear from how even her breathing was that she was most certainly asleep.

He lay awake for awhile, thinking.

A date.. with Molly?

Naturally, John had considered the possibility of Molly and him dating. Most friends do at some point. It hadn't been a serious train of thought at the time. More of a 'what if' kind of thinking.

Would it work? Had they not strayed into the friend bracket too much for it to work?

John had always felt the need to protect the sweet girl. She could be so innocent and quiet at times that many thought they could walk all over her. Then when they tried too, they often succeeded if Molly was by herself. Smart cookie or not, she was far too kind for her own good sometimes.

Was the need to protect her a brotherly kind or something more?

John knew that she was pretty. Beautiful even. That, however, didn't mean he HD feelings for the girl.

Maybe a date would make things clearer. For both of them.

Yeah. A date with Molly wouldn't hurt anyone.

Sending a smile up into the dark, John closes his eyes before drifting off to sleep.

~

Too late. He was too late.

Sherlock sat on Jim's bed, staring ahead of him at the white envelope in the centre of the pillow. On it was Sherlock's name in Jim's familiar scrawl.

Tears collected in the corner of his eyes but he refused to let them slide down his cheeks. He had no idea what the envelope contained. There was no reason for him to be crying or anywhere close to crying.

Sure, his too best friends had disappeared, simply telling their parents that they were 'going away for a bit' but he shouldn't be close to crying for God's sake. They were fine. They just needed some space, most likely.

Although disappearing to get Sherlock's attention screamed Irene to the teen. The plan to guilt trip him.. Yeah, that one had Irene's name all over it. It was the type of thing she did.

They all had their defends mechanisms. Sherlock went silent. Jim hid. Irene manipulates.

Jim's father was stood in the doorway, watching Sherlock with red eyes. Sherlock sympathised with the man. He had done well after Jim's mother had passed away and though of losing his son must be overwhelming and utterly crushing to one who knew lose all too well.

Sherlock wanted to reach out and tear open the envelope but at the same time he didn't.

What if the contents showed that Jim had no intention of ever coming back? What if he'd realised that he didn't need Sherlock the way Sherlock needed him? What if this was all just a plan of Irene's and what was inside that thin white paper were words that were intended to make Sherlock feel bad?

Was it possible that Sherlock had just lost his two best friends? The other two halves of The Trio, the two people he trusted most, the only one's who seemed to truly understand him.

Irene and Jim. The two people that meant the most to him.

He'd put them before himself every and any day. He should have stuck by them, through thick and thin.

He's been an arsehole. He can admit that. Admitting it doesn't bring either of them back though.

Knowing they were gone just increased his awareness of how much he needed them to survive. Especially Jim. That flirty, sarcastic, brilliant Irish boy was his everything. They needed one another, or they were nothing.

At least that was how Sherlock felt. He couldn't speak for Jim.

"Okay..." Sherlock whispers to himself, reaching out with a shakey hand.

No logic in putting it off. Whatever was inside wasn't going to change, no matter how long he stared.

A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Jim's dad as left him to open it privately. Sherlock admired that. He must be desperate to know where his son is, when he was coming back, if he was coming back... All information that could be in this letter and he still let Sherlock have time to him. Time to read, time to react, privately.

One inhale later, Sherlock was tearing open the envelope.

~

Sherlock,

If you're reading this (and I doubt you are. I'm expecting to find this on my pillow when I get home) then it means you've come to talk or come looking for me. As Dad has probably already told you, Irene and I have gone for a little bit.

I can't handle being here at the moment. Everything reminds of what I did.

I took a life, Sherlock. It has been tormenting me every moment since and yet I don't regret it one bit. I'd do it again if sent back in time. Carl deserved what he got and I hope he's burning in hell, suffering greatly for anything he's ever said to anyone to upset them.

He laughed at me, Sherlock. Laughed at me about my 'junkie' mother. So I sent him to join her.

Frankly, I'm pleased. He died in one of the worse ways possible. He drowned.

I understand if you choose to cut me out, forget about me or even hate me for the rest of our lives. Just promise me that you won't pretend that this never happened. Because it has.

I'm a murderer, that will never change.

I'll be gone two weeks at the most.

-Jim xx

p.s. my number hasn't changed

~

I got your letter.

And?

Come home.

I can't. Not now.

A week. Just one. Then come home.

Maybe.

I've missed you.

We're not doing this over texts, Sherlock.

I'll see you in a week or so.

Okay.

What does this mean for The Game?

Be smart, Sherlock. Use it to your advantage. We're gone, you have a wild card and need to catch up. You're one and a half points behind us.

Half now. New girl.

What's she like?

Nothing special.

Irish, though.

Heh. No wonder you liked her. xx

It's just my type ;)

I'm glad to hear that. xx

See you soon, Jim.

You too, Sherlock. <3 xx

<3 xx