"What about you Sherlock?" Molly asked abruptly, pulling Sherlock from whatever dream land he had been stirring in and making him blink in absent minded confusion.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock muttered, looking between the both of them to see very anxious faces looking back.
"We were asking if you thought he was cute. Matt." Sarah said with a little giggle, glancing up to the counter and back again as if she was gazing at their waiter once more. Sherlock sighed heavily, but then again, he would have to take a closer look.
"Okay, no one look at him, give me like, ten seconds. Where is he?" Sherlock wondered, and the girls just giggled furiously.
"Behind the register." Sarah whispered back, and Sherlock nodded with the tiniest smile on his face. After his promised ten seconds Sherlock very casually glanced behind him, as if to glance at the menu board again, and got a quick glance of this 'Matt' behind the register. Sherlock turned back around at once, and the three burst out into silent little giggles.
"I think he's cute, in a jerky kind of way." Molly admitted with a shrug.
"I mean, he's like the stereotypical hot guy right? Short hair, chiseled jaw bone, intense eyes...it's the personality that's throwing me off, he's such a jerk that I can't see him as anything more." Sherlock admitted.
"But you're admitting he's cute, right?" Molly clarified, and Sherlock took a deep breath. If almost felt unfaithful to John to even be looking at other guys, but then again, everyone was doing it.
"I mean ya, I guess so." Sherlock admitted, and the girls giggled once more.
"I agree with Sherlock though, he's just too much of a jerk." Sarah agreed in a stoic sort of voice.
"Well of course I'd never date him, that's not the question here. I can't even think of dating another guy, Greg is just...perfect." Molly insisted with a dreamy sort of sigh.
"You two get along so great, like seriously a match made in heaven." Sarah agreed, and Sherlock nodded along with her. Molly's cheeks got all flustered and she stuttered out thanks, and then she went on to compliment Sarah on her relationship with Greg and all that. Sherlock just sat back and nodded, waiting for them to throw compliments at him. To be honest Greg and Molly probably had the best chances of succeeding in life together, but in a perfect world John and Sherlock would have to be right up there. It seemed as though the purest love was formed in the most impossible forms, and he couldn't see any reason between the two of them that they wouldn't want to continue their lives together. Now of course that would be tricky because the rest of the world and society as a whole certainly had something to say about it, or at least they thought they did, and they made being a homosexual so unnecessarily difficult. Love was love, why on earth couldn't they accept that?
"Do you think you'll marry him?" Sarah was asking Molly, who was just giggling away and stuttering out cute little answers.
"Well I mean, if we're still together in I'd say, a year, then maybe? Like why not?" Molly asked, and they burst into careless laughter once more.
"And you Sarah? What about Mike could you see your way to marrying him?" Sherlock wondered. Sarah turned a little bit red and smiled guiltily, shrugging her shoulders before giggling just a little bit more, as if trying to get that out of her system before she responded.
"He's amazing, and beautiful, and kind, and so respectful, just like Molly said, why not?" Sarah agreed finally, and Sherlock smiled in agreement.
"But let's be honest here guys, the cutest couple award has to go to you and John." Molly insisted, and Sarah nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Now it was Sherlock's turn to blush, just the thought of John put that inerasable smile on his face, and secretly he agreed with them. He and John really were the cutest, weren't they?
"Like not that I watch you guys or anything, but I do, sometimes. When I get the opportunity. And I know what love looks like, it's in the eyes, and he just gazes on you so softly, oh it's just...it's perfect." Sarah insisted flatly, and Sherlock could do nothing but giggle a little bit in satisfaction.
"Oh my God Sarah did you even hear their love confession the other night?" Molly asked excitedly, and Sarah squeaked a little bit, making it quite obvious that she hadn't known.
"He told you he loved you?" Sarah wondered obviously, and Sherlock just ducked his head down, a smile growing a little bit too large on his face as he remembered John's declaration in the alley.
"What was it, what did he say? I was standing on the sidewalk and I heard it, but you told him first and then, what did he say? Something like 'and I love you too'..." Molly wondered, tapping at her chin with her pink fingernail.
"With all my heart and more." Sherlock finished meekly, and he just wanted to curl up in a ball and laugh until he exploded. Oh it was so perfect, was it not, so powerful! Such a confession so early on, and the best part was that Sherlock believed it, oh he believed everything that boy ever said because he says it so confidently that you'd have to be an idiot to doubt him.
"That's simply the sweetest thing; it's such a shame that you two can't ever get married." Sarah muttered sadly, and the mood suddenly plummeted. Sherlock's smile slowly faded off his face as he shrugged, trying and failing to make it seem like the undeniable truth didn't bother him.
"It doesn't mean we can't be together, it just means no one can know. No one can appreciate it." Sherlock said with a sad sort of shrug.
"That's not fair at all, you know what, sometimes I just hate society." Sarah insisted bitterly, smacking at the table rather agressivley and making all the little poppy seeds jump and scatter all around. Sherlock just nodded, not wanting to mention anything about the obvious facts here. First of all she had no reason to hate society more than he did, and secondly Sherlock was quite sure that before she met Sherlock she was as opposed to homosexuality as the rest of the world was. Now that she had a gay best friend she seemed to think that justifies her homophobia in the past and shamed people who she had been exactly like not a month before.
"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock agreed in a bit of a mutter, leaning back in his chair with a finalized expression and staring rather vacantly at his empty bottle of iced tea.

John POV: John was miserable, whiny to the worst degree. When he wasn't dreaming about Sherlock at night he was daydreaming about him in class, and when he was doing neither of those things he was complaining to Greg about how long it's been since he had last seen Sherlock. He was basically counting down the hours since they had said goodbye, and it would seem that even though it was only a meager five days, one hundred and twenty hours sounded a lot more dramatic of a time gap. As the hours went on he would just mutter one hundred twenty one, and Greg would smack his face into the nearest book and beg John to shut up about it. John didn't know why this time apart was eating him up so much; it just felt that nothing had changed at Wisteria at all. It was still the same old classes, boring old teachers, tired old students, the pressed ties and the leather-bound text books and the wooden floors and the oil paintings, God it was so boring! Everything remotely interesting was happening outside the walls, down the grassy hills and across the street into Lauriston territory. The sidewalks that Sherlock may or may not have stepped on were more interesting than anything Mr. Fletcher had to say, and it felt like there was some sort of parasite eating away at his brain. As the time increased it got farther and farther across his skull, and wherever that parasite touched the entire brain cell was only dedicated to one thing. Sherlock. Whether it wanted to recreate memories of Sherlock or create new fantasies about Sherlock or think of what he had said to Sherlock or what he might say to Sherlock, it didn't matter. But every second of every day that boy's face, and his voice, and his laugh and his smile and his kiss...they were going through John's head like a broken record! The sad thing is he didn't mind it at all, he would rather listen to Sherlock say anything all day than hear whatever his stuffy old professors regurgitated onto the chalkboard. It has now been one hundred and thirty seven hours since he had said goodbye to Sherlock Holmes, and it felt as though death was not far now. Death by boredom it would seem, or possibly by ramming his head into his wall too furiously and too frequently. Whichever came first maybe.
"One hundred and, ah! Thirty eight. See that's six o'clock." John muttered irritably, tapping at his watch as he sat miserably in the dining hall, staring at the boring chicken that sat on his plate. The boring, boring chicken.
"I've had enough of this John; you're whining like a little girl it's so unbearably annoying!" Greg exclaimed irritably. John shrugged innocently, not knowing why this solitude wasn't killing Greg as well. It's been one hundred and thirty eight hours since he's last seen Molly and yet he didn't seem to be complaining. Did that mean that John's relationship with Sherlock was just more distracting or did it mean that John was just being clingy and weird? Probably both? Maybe the latter? Oh well, it didn't matter!
"Well what do you expect me to do? Write him a letter?" John groaned, slouching on his elbows over the table with his chin hanging dangerously close to this tall pile of mashed potatoes.
"If you want to go see him, go see him!" Greg insisted carelessly, and John looked up at him as if he was crazy.
"What you mean leave now? Tonight? It's Wednesday night Greg, we've got classes tomorrow, rugby tomorrow, that's not a good idea." John debated, suddenly taking on his usual innocent attitude when it came to breaking the rules.
"Well alright, that's your only option. So stop whining." Greg insisted flatly, digging into his chicken and acting as if the conversation had been dropped. John, however, got a nervous sense of rebellion building in his stomach, like a flame that couldn't be snuffed. Greg was right, well of course he was right, what was holding John back? Classes and sports, who cared? Sherlock was out there just as lonely as John was, all it took was a couple of bedsheets to get out of Wisteria, he had his phone number, his address, a five minute warning surely wouldn't go amiss? Maybe this was a good idea after all...
"If, say, I did go. How would you recommend I do it?" John wondered rather nervously, looking up at Greg with the most angelic expression he could manage without looking pathetic. Greg sighed heavily, letting his fork drop back to his plate as if John's pestering was just too much.
"I'll watch the hallway for you if you want to call, then when she's done with bed checks you'll just go down the rope, come back up when you're done." Greg planned simply.
"And Sherlock, do you think he'll be opposed to it? I mean it is rather last minute, but I'm sure he's just as desperate to see me as I am." John insisted hopefully.
"Yes, sure, whatever John. Do what you want." Greg snapped, trying to eat his dinner in peace. John just frowned, however now that there was an opportunity it seemed a shame to waste it. You only live once, right? And if John neglected to go tonight then the hour count would be up to one hundred and forty four, and that simply wouldn't do! Sherlock, surely, would want to see him as well. He'd be safe; he'd be quiet, besides...it would only be for a couple of hours.
"Okay, what time is it now?" John whispered, lingering near the door and listening for the telltale chimes of the clock from down the hall. Greg sighed, checking his watch as he sat carelessly on his bed. He wasn't in the best of moods right now, but John had no idea why. Possibly it's because he wasn't going to see Molly, or maybe it's because he was jealous of how close Sherlock and John had gotten in there mere two dates they had known each other. Maybe he was just tired. Either way John had certainly had enough of it, a whiny Greg was in no way a pleasant person and besides, it wasn't John's fault that Greg was wasting his opportunities. It wasn't like he couldn't tag along with John and go fish Molly out of her room by simply pelting pebbles at her window, he could leave whenever he wanted and it wasn't John fault that he chose to stay. So he should just stop being grumpy, and he should certainly stop taking his annoyance out on John.
"Alright, that's nine." Greg muttered, closing his book and getting to his feet. He was dressed in his pajamas, wearing nothing but socks on his feet and pulling his thin little robe across his chest irritably. John nodded, making sure he had Sherlock's phone number securely in his fist before he scampered down the hallway. This was the first time he went on one of these little missions, and he had to admit, it was rather exhilarating. There was sort of playful fear that was nestled in his chest; heightening his senses and making his fingers shake nervously. John and Greg darted quickly down the hall towards Mrs. Hudson's office, making sure to be careful not to step on any of the squeaky floorboards as they went. As promised they found that Mrs. Hudson's door was left wide open, letting them sneak into the tiny little closet converted into something of an office. John had never been in here personally; however he had peered in from the outside on occasion so he knew where he was going. The walls were hidden away by filing cabinets of all sorts and in the middle of the room there was a tiny desk crammed in the middle, holding all sorts of papers and books and folders and overflowing with pencils and pens. Hidden amongst the wide assortment of junk lay the phone, a shining black machine with one of the old fashioned spin dials. This wasn't a problem, of course, because John had used one of these before, his grandma had one at her old house before she got moved to nursing home and he had used it to make calls all the time.
"Alright, get going John get going!" Greg insisted, leaning against the doorway while John ran to the phone, studying the numbers carefully before dialing the phone number to the best of his abilities. He held the receiver to his ear and heard the telltale ringing at the other end, and for a moment he was under the impression that no one in the Holmes household would answer. That would be inconceivably tragic, however just as he was sure he was getting stood up there was a click on the other end, followed by nervous sort of breathing.
"Hello?" John asked carefully, knowing that there was every chance that this breathing didn't belong to Sherlock. There was more silence and John glanced over at Greg, who was tapping his wrist impatiently.
"Who is this?" asked that deep, familiar voice, and John breathed a sigh of relief.
"Sherlock? It's John." John muttered, looking over at Greg once more, who was now hanging his head out of the office to make sure he didn't hear anything from down the hall. John knew he had to be quick, Mrs. Hudson was on the prowl and if this took any longer than it could they'd be facing serious punishment. Oh if only Sherlock would just get on with it!
"John! What on earth are you..."
"We don't have time for that Sherlock, listen. I'm coming to get you, alright? Meet me on the corner by the drug store." John directed. There was a stunned silence at the other end but John knew that Sherlock was still there, he could hear his small little breaths across the line.
"John it's a Wednesday I can't just sneak out." Sherlock whispered nervously.
"Why not? I am. Besides, I just want to see you, I'm going mad." John admitted with a sort of smile.
"This is a bad idea." Sherlock muttered, however his tone changed into something of amused denial.
"Well I don't care, I coming. Meet me there." John instructed.
"This is madness." Sherlock whispered, but John could almost swear he heard him giggle a little bit.
"I'll see you." John muttered, and Sherlock's breathing increased.
"I'll see you." Sherlock agreed, and with that the line went dead.
"You're done? Come on John, come on!" Greg exclaimed desperately, waving his hands and peering out into the hallway once more. John nodded, slamming the receiver down and racing out of the office, Greg leading the way down the hallway. They could hear her knocking, her yelling, but they just might make it.
"Come on, come on!" Greg insisted, as if John wasn't already running fast enough. The knocking got louder but their dorm was right there, they dashed through the door and dove under the covers just in time, for they heard Mrs. Hudson's cawing clear as day behind the security of their closed door.
"Boys go to bed!" she called through the wood, knocking ferociously while Greg and John lay under their blankets in a state of breathless anxiety.