I woke up with a bit of a headache. I groaned, turning on my back and rubbing my temples. Then I realized I was topless, and last night slowly crept back to me.

"Shit," I groaned, stressing the vowel. I sat up in my bed, still holding my head. I reached for my crane and dragged myself up. My leg was terrible and I was barely able to walk with my crane. I made it to the living area and saw Sherlock wasn't in there yet. He was probably in his room still. I sighed and grabbed my laptop, checking the school's website. School was still canceled. I closed my laptop, not even bothering to check tumblr or Facebook or anything. Instead, I slouched in my seat and groaned.

"Morning," Sherlock walked in, wearing a blue robe over his pajamas. He went to his arm chair and sat like he usually did. There was an awkward silence as both avoided each other.

"Maybe," Sherlock started. "It's best if we end this now."

I took a sharp breath, thinking of how I may have pushed it too far. "O-oh. Alright."

Sherlock kept his look on me before dropping his head. "Alright. Good. It's nothing."

I sighed. "I'm sorry – "

"Don't be. I knew it from the beginning, so it's my own fault," he shrugged.

I furrowed my brow. "What? No it's not," I frowned.

"I knew you were uncomfortable with it, so I shouldn't of made you do this."

"I'm not uncomfortable with it," I said. "I just had a little too much to drink, I just kind of forgot."

"Forgot I was a boy …?" Sherlock asked.

"Huh? No. Forgot that all that stuff isn't for you. The non-romantic parts," I scratched my neck.

"What does that have to do with it?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

I gave him a look. "It has to do with a lot? You don't like it."

"Yeah well, I figured I could compromise – "

"Compromise your sexuality?"

"That's what you did," Sherlock said.

"No I didn't. I like you so I went with you," I pointed out. "You don't have to for me. And I promise I won't do that again. I swear it was the alcohol. Give it another shot?"

Sherlock looked at me. "Wait … You want to stay?"

"Uh, yeah."

"But you left last night, because we're both boys."

I tilted my head. "No, I left because you were uncomfortable. Your hands were shaking, and you looked kind of nervous. It took a while to click, but yeah."

Sherlock dropped his head again and chuckled. "Oh, I was hoping you didn't see that," he had a light blush.

"It's fine," I laughed. "So? We're still together?"

Sherlock nodded. "If you'd like to be."

I leaned back, groaning. "But sorry about last night. I guess it was a waste."

"Oh no. While you were catching up, I did what I needed to do."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you see," he started.

"I was trying to ignore your friends' loud, obnoxious-ness – "Sherl …" – oh fine. Anyway, I tried to think of what we could use. Then I realized that in Jessica's purse, she didn't have her phone. So I went up to the bar to talk to the bartender.

'Excuse me? I'm looking for my cousin's phone. It's a blackberry, white.'

'Lemme see, I got an iPhone here, but no blackberries. Sorry mate.'

'Oh it's fine. She can be so ditzy sometimes. She was actually a bit worried to come back here so she sent me.'

'Worried?'

'Fake ID.'

'Oh! That's your cousin? Yeah, she was a bit flaky. Sweet though. Didn't order any drinks besides water, so I figured no harm done. She seemed a bit awkward, no offense.'

'Yeah not very social. Hey you wouldn't happen to know the number of the cab she got in? It might be in there.'

'Ahh no, but I saw the driver. A bit old, wore one of those newsboy hats. Maybe you'll find him out there tonight. He usually drives the kids home.'

'Oh thanks, I'll see if he has it.'

'No problem mate.'

And then I returned to our table, and waited for you to finish up," Sherlock finished.

"So when you said cabbies were 'not good' last night?"

"I meant it. Originally I was going to wait till you were done and we'd go find him, but we had a change of plans," he teased.

I made a face at him. "Stop it. I wasn't so bad."

Sherlock chuckled. "No no, but I did fix your tumblr for you. You're welcomed."

"Fixed it?"

"Go look."

I picked up my laptop and logged into my tumblr.

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Wats-up-son. Feb. 7th, 2011 (edited)

Glad to see the lot of you last night, too bad some of you changed. I hope Lauren is feeling better, remember I'm here to talk if you need me.

-J.W.

"Oh thanks," I said. "Was it that bad?"

"There was something I didn't even know what you were saying," he laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "So are we going back? Tonight I mean. To find the cabby?"

"No no, too soon. Tomorrow's Saturday, we can go then," he chewed on his lip. "Maybe we can take Lestrade and Molly too – "

"What? Why?"

"A crowd's good. Plus, they're our …friends," he toyed with that word.

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay but what about their IDs – "

"I'll ask Irene for them. She doesn't seem to have a problem getting them."

"She does it for free?"

"Huh? Oh no. But that's alright," he waved a hand dismissingly. "I got it."

I shrugged and laid on the sofa, putting my leg up on the arm rest. "So we have another day off, what are we going to do today?"

"I have things to do, but you –"

"What do you have to do?"

Sherlock stared at me, not answering me. I groaned. "What? Come on you can tell me – No. You're not get – " "One time and that's all you think of me –" "One time I've seen you –" "I've haven't done it since!" "Well excuse me but when one does cocaine it becomes a something they're friends get concerned about," I pointed out. Sherlock sighed. "Trust me. I'm not going to get drugs. Just some things I have to take care of so that tomorrow night goes right."

I folded my arms and sighed. "Okay, can we just talk about that?"

"About what?"

"Tomorrow night. What do you expect to happen? In case you forgot, we're only high school seniors, not the world's greatest detectives."

"I'm a sophomore and so? I'm still better than the police here. Even Lestrade's father isn't all that well of a copper."

"Yea but – Wait? Sophomore? You're fourteen?"

Sherlock tightened his lips and straightened up. "I'm fifteen, and so?"

"You're fifteen?" I said, almost laughing.

"What? What's the big deal?" he sighed, folding his arms as well. "You're nineteen."

"How'd you –?"

"Tumblr requires a birth-date. When I went on last night, I saw it. Though I figured you had to be at least seventeen. Left back?"

"I uh, missed a lot of school when I got shot," I scratched the back of my head.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes well, back on the topic. You underestimate my potential, John. Yes I may be fifteen, but I swear I'll solve this before the police do."

I rolled my eyes and threw my head back, putting my hands behind my head. "Fine. Go do your thing, I'm going to bum here today."

I heard him chuckle. "Alright then John, I'll see you later then." I finally heard the door open and close.

I really did just bum around all day. I finally hooked up my PlayStation and spent the better part of my day popping the heads off of zombies. I threw all my pissed off, angered feelings at it and it felt good. I probably could have spent my day being more productive, but this was easier.

It was nearly midnight when Sherlock returned. I was sitting back on the sofa, reading one of my favorite books. I eyed him as he walked in.

"Oh calm down I'm clean," he said. He sat down next to me so I closed my book. I looked him up and down before deciding he was telling the truth.

"Fine. But it would help convince me if you told me where you were."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you must know, I was getting information."

"From?"

"My connections. The 'Homeless Network'."

"You get your information from bums?"

"They're my eyes and ears of the city. I help them out, and they give me what they know. And then I shower for three hours," he joked.

"So what did they tell you?"

Sherlock peered at the door before turning to me, lowering his voice. "The cabbie who took Jessica home? They knew his cab number. They said that he's usually by the club by eleven. So when we go tomorrow –"

"You're not serious about this?"

"John, I've been telling you since this began – "

"Yea but I never actually think you see it all the way through."

"Yeah well," he brought his legs up, yawning. "I am."

I shook my head and sighed. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I'll be fine," he yawned again.

I shook my head, dropping the subject. I eyed him as he gave his third yawn and tilted my head. "You tired?"

"I'm fine." He closed his eyes a bit, before blinking them opened. "Really, I've gone longer without sleep."

I turned my head to him and raised an eyebrow. "…How long?"

"Just a few days – "

"Just a few days? Sherl that's not heal – "

"I think we established I'm not all that concerned about my health," he chuckled.

"Yea well I am," I frowned. "You need to sleep."

"John you don't – Oh fine," he sighed when I wouldn't lighten my look. He slinked his body until he was laying against my side, head snuggled into the nook of my arm. I freed my arm and draped it around him, placing my hand on his side.

"Comfortable?" I chuckled.

"Very," he yawned. He hugged my arm softly, rubbing his thumb in small circles against my bicep. I smiled, running my fingers back and forth on his side. I felt his smile on my arm and a content sigh. Soon his breathing became steady and a quiet snore was escaping his lips. He was asleep.

I looked at him and was a little taken by how much of a fifteen year old he looked like right then. Curled up against me, his appearance had softened. I brushed some of his curls out of his face vey softly, careful not to wake him.

I heard my phone buzzed and looked over to the table. The text message light was blinking. I reached over slowly and carefully, grabbing it and leaning back on the couch. I unlocked it and opened the text message from the unknown number.

So who tops you or Holmes?

I bit my lip, trying not to get too angry. I glared at my phone but starting to type.

You know what? Fuck you. You guys are all so interested in our lives? Fine. Yes. Me and Sherlock are dating, so what? You have a problem with it, then tell me to my face. And I swear if any of you do anything to him, A N Y T H I N G, I will personally beat the shit out each and every one of you. So fuck off and leave us alone.

I stared at my reply before deleting it. I might have not cared, but I wasn't going to out Sherlock. I tossed my phone back on the table and yawned. I was just as tired, and although falling asleep sitting up on the couch wasn't something I enjoyed, it was quite nice with Sherlock. I put head back and stretched out my legs before drifting off to sleep.

It starts again. We're being pushed to our knees. Oh god. My eyes are closed and I'm trying to remember all our catholic school prayers. I feel the cold barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of my head. They start to count down from three, and when they hit one –

Oh my god.

I swallowed hard, pleading, begging. Please, God, let me live. It's barely louder than a whisper. They're laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at Jacks' dead body. I'm shaking and whimpering and holy fucking god. I feel the gun loosen, falling limp against my head. This was my chance. I run faster than I ever could in my life. I hear the gunshot and felt it rip through my shoulder and I spin and I fall and they're catching up and I can't get up and they here and they have the gun aimed at me at my head and they're ready to fired and –

"John!" I'm being shaken and I can't help it, but I feel that my arms are free and I threw a punch at my attackers.

"Ugh!"

I still shaking and I have my eyes closed tight. But that noise made me open my eyes and looked.

"F-fuck I'm – " I couldn't really talk. I was still shaking and my head was still whirling. But I was able to tell that I just punched Sherlock square in the face.

"Okay, that's enough hits to the face for this week," he rubbed his nose.

"Sh-sherl – I'm sorry! – " I started, trying to help him with shaky hands.

"John, John it's fine – Are you all right?" he asked, removing his hand from his face, taking my unsteady ones.

"Yeah I – Just – It was – " I couldn't get my words out right. My legs bounced and my breathing was quick and short. Sherlock put a hand to my cheek and that's when I realized I had been crying. "I –"

"It's all right," he said, looking in my eyes.

I gave a shaky sigh and dropped my head, having his hand land in my hair. "No it's not. I-I'm sorry for waking you up – "

"Oh keep it quiet, it's fine," he said. "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head, perhaps a tab to frantic. Sherlock bit his lip and stood up, still holding my hand. "C'mon."

"Where?" I looked up at him.

"Your bed. C'mon."

"I can't get up," I whimpered. "My leg, I can't get up –"

"I got you."

I chewed on my lip and allow him to pull me up. My leg started to spazz out, wobbling so bad that Sherlock had to rush to my other side so I wouldn't fall. I tried not to lean too much on him, but every time I didn't, I nearly collapsed.

"It's all right – We're almost – there," he said, straining before we reached my room. He helped me on my bed and sat down next to me. "There, go back to sleep."

I snorted a laugh as I laid down. "I can't. I never do," I sighed.

Sherlock sighed and put a hand on my leg. "All right then." He laid down next to me, draping an arm around me. I gave a shaky sigh and groaned, my body still going into overload. He drummed my side rhythmically, almost soothing. I body gave one more unsteady shiver before I took a deep breath, calming down.

"T-thanks," I said, nodding. "Yea thanks."

Sherlock hummed. "Stop that. It's nothing."

I snorted. "Yeah well, it's something to me. Most people usually just avoid me when I get like that."

"Yeah well most people avoid me all the time, so I'd say we're even."

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Wats-up-son. Feb. 8th, 2011

I just want this to stop.

-J.W.