So here is chapter eight :D Hope you all will like it. This chapter is for now unbetaed and if you spot any mistakes please tell me and I'll correct them. Also, this chapter is NSFW.

Warnings: Smut (male on male sex), Bullying, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, homophobia.

The moment I set foot inside mine and John's room I am attacked by a pair of lips and a warm body pressing against me. A pair of hands are pressing against my shoulders, forcing me back and into the door. The hands move to my waist and the lips part, my own mimicking, and a tongue slip past my lips.

By the time I got over the shock of having John more or less throwing himself at me, hormones have already started to cloud my mind. Without my accord my hands have moved to John's shoulders, squeezing the muscles. I feel dizzy but I can't make out if it's John or the lack of air causing my lightheadedness.

John groans and presses closer to me, his tongue still exploring my mouth enthusiastically. I can vaguely make out that yeah, it's probably the lack of oxygen that's causing my legs to give out, but I can't really find it in me to care enough to break the kiss. Fortunately, or not, John pulls away with a gasp and nestles his head in the crook of my neck.

I want to say something sarcastic about how he's greeted me but what makes it past my lips is nothing more than a breathy "Hello."

John laughs and gives me a quick peck on the lips.

"Hello indeed."

His head returns to his previous position and his hands removes themselves from my waist to connect in the space left between the door and my lower back. I drop my hands from his shoulders and returns his hug.

It's nice. This, just this. Holding John close, knowing that I have someone in my life, someone who matters and to whom I matter just as much. I move my hand upwards, letting my fingers run through the hair in the nape of John's head.

Suddenly a pair of hot lips press against my neck, sucking lightly, and I can hear myself gasp. I can feel John smirk before my neck is once again attacked by his lips. My fingers have now buried themselves in John's hair, not sure whether to pull John away or to press him closer.

John's hands are sliding down my back and comes to a rest on the curve of my backside. His lips leave my throat only to move to my own lips a second later. A low rumble escapes me and I can feel how my blood is moving downwards to other areas.

John's hands suddenly squeezes and as I jerk forwards he presses himself against me, grinding his hips against mine. I gasp. The friction causing sparks to travel up my spine. I can feel John smirk against my lips and have a sudden urge to wipe that smirk away.

Feeling a bit devious I move forwards, pushing John in front of me until his legs hit the back of my bed and we both tumble down in the mess of sheets and old school clothes. As we fall John lets out a strange yelp that is replaced by laugh as soon as his back makes contact with the mattress. He continues to laugh and gives me a light punch on my chest. I bend down and kiss him, leaving a trail of kisses from his mouth down his jaw to his neck. He responds by running one hand through my hair, tugging slightly, and letting the other explore my body.

I could never have imagined being kissed and touched by another person to feel this good. I have always had a distaste for physical contact. It's uncomfortable, messy and filled with all kinds of feelings and sentiment. But now as I lie here, having John's hands caressing and grabbing at different muscles, I can't find a single trace of uncomfortability, only an intense feeling of wanting more of, of, of this.

My hands make their way down John's chest and towards the hem of his jumper. I take a breath before carefully sneaking my fingers under the fabric and feeling John's hot skin under my hands. I hesitate for a moment before I move them further up, feeling muscles twitch and goosebumps beginning to form.

I haven't done this. John has. According to himself he has plenty of experience within the field of relationships and these acts. Well maybe two girls and one boy is what most would call plenty of experience but to me it's enough to make me feel very inferior whenever we're snogging or cuddling or a mix of the two or whatever this now is. John's experience often causes him to take command, which I have found that I oddly enough like, to some extent, and this is exactly what happens now as John almost growls 'so you want it that way' and rolls us over.

His hip ends up between my thighs and I suddenly feel a blush rising on my cheeks. My fingers grip a bit harder at his shoulders and as he pulls my shirt out of my pants and begin to caress the sensitive skin below my navel I find that I have no idea whatsoever of what I'm doing.

We have travelled down this road before, but never this far. John's erection is obvious where it presses against my own and as he grinds his hip I find that everything is almost overwhelming. The sensations too much and too strong and stop but please don't.

When I was ten and accompanied my father to his office I had been left to watch people rushing by as he talked to the receptionist. There had been so many different persons and so much information about who they were. Being the person I am I had wanted to know everything about these people. Soon the information became too much and wherever I looked new facts were screaming at me to acknowledge them. The sounds became too loud and blended in with each other, my clothes had begun to feel too small and constricting, everything had just been too much. My father had needed to carry me out of the lobby and into a quiet and dark cleaning closet before I even began to recognize him.

The last thing I want right now is a repetition of that time.

John's hands have somehow unbuttoned my shirt and are now caressing my side as he sucks at my neck. I am staring at the ceiling, my body unresponsive except for twitches and squirms as John continues his movements. My hands still haven't moved from his shoulders.

"I, John I." I begin but there isn't any air in my lungs and it's so much and please don't stop John.

But John does stop, his hands coming to a halt as he raises his head and looks at me with a frown.

"Are you okay Sherlock?" He asks and I can't help but notice how his voice has dropped and how his usually so blue and beautiful irises are almost covered by his wide blown pupils.

"I haven't." I look away, unable to maintain eye contact for some reason. "This, I haven't."

"Sherlock." John's hand cups my chin and guides my head so I'm staring straight into his eyes. "Do you trust me?" He asks.

I look at him for a second, turning his question over and over in my mind but always coming to the same conclusion. "Yes."

"Then you know that if you say stop, I will stop."

I take a breath and nod. John resumes his actions, but this time they're slower, more careful, seeking out permission instead of taking it, and I feel my muscles unlock. I move my hands to John's jumper and under, caressing his strong back. John stops and quickly removes his jumper and begins unbuttoning the shirt beneath. I stare at him for a second before shrugging out of my own shirt and tossing it aside carelessly, it needed washing anyway.

Soon there is nothing more than the thin fabric of our undergarments between us. John's hips are methodically trusting against my own and his lips are kissing and nibbling at my collar bone. My left hand fingers are tangled in his hair and I'm not entirely sure where my right hand is, the pleasure and nervousness clouding my mind from anything else than John. My John. I never want this to end but I need it to, I need a release.

Pleasure is coiling deep in my abdomen and my hips are moving with John's without my will. John's hand suddenly slips inside my underwear and grasps me. I let out a moan and my hips buckle upwards. John hesitates for a second before moving his hand, short motions up and down. I take his head in my hands and places a sloppy kiss on his lips, our noses colliding and I might have bitten John a bit but it doesn't matter.

We break our kiss and John rests his forehead against mine as his hand continues to move. My hands are tightly gripping his biceps as my hips snap up, trusting into John's grip. It feels as if the world around us has disappeared and all that matters is just this, right here. John's hand feels nothing like my own despite the fact that the movement is almost identical. Everything is so much more and so intense.

John's hand suddenly leaves me and a small keening sound escapes my lips. A moment later his hand is back but it's more and when I look down I see that he's grasping both of us. My mouth opens in a silent moan as his hips move forwards.

My breath hitches as his thumb moves over the head of my penis and I pull him closer to me, trying to hold myself together as pleasure rocks my very core. I can hear John's ragged panting in my ear and I can feel his minute trembling all over.

"John!" Is all I can gasp before I'm undone. White light explodes in my head and my whole body tenses. I'm vaguely aware of John speeding up before he also suddenly stops but mostly I'm just trying not to burst.

When I resurface I find that I've pulled John so very close to me and that my feet have left the mattress and is hanging mid air, toes curled and legs locked. I let out a breath and my whole body relaxes and I feel so very tired. I shudder as John places a kiss to my temple and I turn my head to properly return his kiss.

We stay like this for a while, tangled up in each other. I some way this is better than the sex, or whatever it was. To feel John so close, just cuddled up next to me, the fingers of his left hand interlaced with the fingers of my right, our hearts beating as one, gives me a completely different kind of satisfaction.

John moves to get away but I tighten my grip on him.

"We need to clean up." He says with a laugh but I just shake my head.

"Not yet." I say and John smiles and snuggles up next to me again, taking the blanket with him.

"I guess not."

It's on a Thursday things turn from lovely to a bit not good. Since the evening they spent naked in bed everything has been pure heaven. I haven't felt like this for over a year. Sporadic outburst of happiness and unexplainable urges to just smile plague me but I can't find it within myself to complain.

But then one Thursday Jim comes, walking slowly behind David, a sly smile playing on his lips. John and I are standing under my usual tree, John talking about a commet that soposedly only is visible on earth every [insert] year. I don't tell him that I long since deleted all my knowledge about the solar system in favour of more important data, instead I watch as Jim and his gang of buffoons make their way across the lawn, moving closer and closer to us but not close enough for me to want to interrupt John's talking.

Over the years I've learnt how to blend in, how to disappear in plain sight. It's the best kind of camouflage. It's like hiding a book in a bookshelf, next to hundreds of other titles, leaving it unnoticed and ordinary.

Often, however, the effort is too much and the reward too little and I can't really bother with blending in or not, but then there are moments like this, when blending in would be a blessing. Regardless, even a book can't stay hidden in a bookshelf if someone is looking for it and it's only a matter of minutes before Jim notices me.

I turn to John to tell him we should leave. I don't want him involved in mine and Moriarty's strife. It's between the two of us and no one else. Both I and Moriarty knows this. Unfortunately, before I can even open my mouth Jim's irish accent echoes over the grass field.

"JOHN AND SHERLOCK SITTING IN A TREE. K.I.S.S.I.N.G!"

John abruptly stops his tale and looks for the source of the sound, the tip of his ears turning red. I only casts a look in Jim's direction before turning and walking the other way. It takes me a second too long for my comfort to discover that John is not following me, instead he's walking straight towards Jim. Shock paralyzes me for a moment before I'm walking after John. Did he really fall for that? Didn't he see that it's a trap?

"Oh hi Johnny boy." Jim teases, the vowels rolling on his tongue.

"Hi faggot." David barks, too focused on revelling in his own glory to notice Jim rolling his eyes.

"Just shut the fuck up, okay?" John spits as he comes into a halt in front of the three.

"Oooh, got your panties in a twist, homo?" Charlie this time, his voice high pitched and overly girly.

John is about to say something but is stopped by me laying a hand on his arm.

"Quiet." I say and give him a meaning look. He closes his mouth and stubbornly stares back.

"Listen to your boyfriend." Jim purrs, his eyes fixed on me.

"Jealous much?" I ask.

"No."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"Yeah okay, a little." Jim says with a shrug. "Can't help it. We would go soooo good together."

I flash Jim a fake smile. "I'm flattered by your interest but I'm, as you might have noticed, not available at the moment."

Charlie, David and John are watching with confused looks. To an outsider, our conversation can easily be mistaken for flirtation, Jim's repetition of the offer he's been giving me during the whole school year falling to deaf ears.

"You might want to reconsider that." Jim replies with a dead voice and I feel a shiver running up my back. Instead of backing down I continue to glare at him, my hand twitching next to John's, wanting to pull him away from here. Away from Jim and all the dangers that surround him, away from my past and what hopefully won't be my future.

"Fuck off!" John spits, taking a step forwards.

"You fuck off faggot!" David calls and Charlie high fives him. I restrain myself from rolling my eyes, the effort is too much for the idiocy these two morons are showing.

"I'm not gay, okay?!" John points a finger at David, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before pursuing them tightly together. He's angry, oh so angry.

"Say that to ya boyfriend!" David mocks. "Fairy"

Around us a crowd has gathered, obviously expecting a fight to break out. From the corner of my eye I can see even more pupils running towards us, wanting to know what's going on. I look at John, who's glaring daggers at David and Charlie, and decide that no, I don't want this fight to happen, I don't want John to get dragged into the same mess as I'm already in.

"Come." I say and grab John's arm, pulling lightly. At first he doesn't move but when I've walked a few steps I can hear him slowly turn around.

"What happened Johnny boy? Shercock desperate for a fuck?" David calls and I hear John stop.

"John." I call, and take another step. John doesn't continue to move and I sigh in resignation. I'm about to call his name again when I hear a moan behind me, a moan of pleasure. Then Charlie's voice is calling out John's name. I slowly turn around and feel my face flush bright read. A knot quickly forms in my stomach and there isn't enough air no matter how much I try to breath into my lunges.

Before my eyes is Charlie and David, dry humping each other. Charlie is on all fours, calling out John's name and telling him to go faster, harder and that it feels so good. His voice is pitched low, a surprisingly good impression of my own. David is on his knees behind Charlie, thrusting his hips hard towards Charlie's backside. His eye's are fixed on John and filled with pure malice.

I feel naked and exposed and so vulnerable. I can barely make out the laughter and wolf whistles from the crowd over the roaring of blood in my ears. I can take punches and harsh words, I can take loneliness and humiliation, but I can't take this. Not this. Not the display of something so purely private and something so out of my own knowledge and control. I swallow and try to regain some kind of control over this situation but when David opens his mouth and speaks again I can feel the little amount of control I've managed to regain slip away.

"Didn't know Sherlock was such a slut. Not that I'm surprised." He says in a low voice and I don't even have time to blink before John has thrown himself on David with a cry of pure fury. Charlie doubles over with laughter and I hear myself call John's name as my feet move towards him.

I grab hold of John's jumper and try to force him of David but before John can even acknowledge my presence a fist connect to the side of my face. I stumble backwards and someone shoves me forwards, the sudden change of direction causing me to trip. I land hard on my elbows and someone kicks me in the stomach. The kick makes me fall on my back and above me is Charlie, his eyes shining with hatred and superiority. He turns around and raises his hands in victory and the crowd around us cheers.

Suddenly I'm so angry, so fucking angry. With an angry snarl I've thrown myself on Charlie and the two of us comes crashing to the ground. Charlie lands beneath me and before he has the chance to even react I'm throwing punch after punch at him. I don't care where I hit, as long as I hit him somewhere. This is the wrong strategy, for a second later Charlie's fist is in my face and then we're rolling around, both of us trying to get the upperhand.

Our fight loses all finesse as we're wrestling, hands tugging and slapping at each others' limbs and legs kicking feebly. Charlie pulls at my hair and I bite his arm. Around us the crowd is chanting 'FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT'. I feel blood pouring out of my nose and my ribs are hurting but that doesn't matter, as long as Charlie is hurting more than I am.

Alarmed voices call somewhere in the distance but I ignore them, finally getting Charlie underneath me again. I grab his bangs and pounds his head hard into the ground before punching him as hard as I can on the nose. I feel something crack both beneath my hand and inside it.

A pair of hand suddenly grabs hold of me and starts to pull me away. I snarls and try to break loose but the grip on my biceps are far too strong. I'm pulled off Charlie and away. With my left foot I drive my heel as hard as I can into the toes of whoever is dragging me away. A scream of pain erupts behind me and the grip on my arms loosen. I tear my right arm free and tries to grab hold of Charlie, who had risen to his feet.

A second pair of hands takes hold of my free arm and then I'm being pulled backwards. I scream and snarl at Charlie, still struggling to get free. Something suddenly block's my view and when I realise it's another face I try to headbutt it. A hand in my hair forces my head back.

"Mr Holmes you calm down this instant!"

The eyes of Mr Fisher is staring into mine and it feels as if someone waken me from a dream. Around me students are gathered in groups, some horrified and others delighted at the fight that was recently broken up. From the corner of my eye I can spot John and David, a hand each on their chest and a teacher in between them. John is screaming nonsense at David and David humps the air when the teacher isn't looking at him.

Behind Mr Fisher Charlie stands, holding a hand to his broken nose and trying to stop the blood. His hair is full of blood, most likely my own, and his left eye has already began to swell.

"Mr Holmes!"

I look into Mr Fisher's eyes and snarl: "Yes?"

"Good." He releases my head and the grips on my arms loosen. I receive one final stern look from Mr Fisher before he turns around and addresses the students.

"Everybody who wasn't directly involved in this fight. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

The mass of pupils quickly dispels, many of them giving me dirty looks, mouthing words as 'fag' and 'queer'. In the middle of the crowd I spot a grinning Moriarty. I can see him blow me a kiss and wink before he disappears in the ocean of navy blue suit jackets.

"Mr Webb and Mr Parker to the nurse. Mr Watson and Mr Holmes to the principal's office. NOW!

The visit at the principal's office had been short. John and I entered, John and I got blamed for the fight, John and I was excused with orders to visit the nurse. The walk to the nurse had been quiet.

John is now seated next to me in the waiting room outside the examination room. I'm awkwardly pressing a handkerchief to my bleeding nose with my left hand. I'm sure the ring finger on my right hand is broken.

Beside me John is pressing an ice pack he received from the nurse to his right eye. As far as I can see all he's going to suffer from is a black eye and wounded pride.

"How's the finger?"

"Broken."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay." John falls silent once more, fingers with a hole in his trouser leg. We're both covered in dirt and dried blood, our clothes torn on several places. Mycroft would faint if he saw me like this. I hold back a smile at the thought.

"You flirted with Mori-"

"Fake."

"Okay." John nods and sucks on his lips. I turn my head slightly so I can properly observe him. He looks torn between anger and confusion. The brow of his eye furrowed and his lips tightly pressed together. My eyes fall on the ice pack pressed to his eyes and the dried blood on his hands. Guilt twists in my stomach and I look away. John got the black eye because of mine and Moriarty's fight. John got the blood on his hand when he helped me stop my bleeding nose. A nose that started to bleed because he defended me. John got the torn clothes because he was willing to wrestle a person to the ground for humiliating me. The reasonable part of my brain wants me to be angry with Moriarty for dragging John into this, a conflict that only concerns me and Jim, but for once the emotional part of me has the upperhand.

"If you want to talk about anything Sherlock I'm-"

"I don't."

"I know you're probably upset and-"

"I'm not."

"-Andthat what David and Charlie did might have shaken you a bit."

"It didn't."

"I know it did Sherlock I saw your face."

"It didn't."

"Okay. I just want you to know that if you need me I'm here for you."

"I don't."

John sighs and fists his free hand. I remain impassive and ignore John's obvious display of annoyance. The guilt is still eating away in my stomach and John's obvious display of caring and sentiment isn't helping.

"You know Sherlock, I just wish that you would trust me. Please." His tone is strained, as if he's holding something back.

"I do." I tell him.

"Then why don't you show me that?" He asks loudly, managing a rather impressive glare with his one visible eye.

"You know I don't do that John." I don't do emotions. I don't do sentiment. I rarely do trust. I once again ignore the voice in my head telling me I do emotions, sentiment and trust, at least when it comes to John.

John. The exception to my everything. Just ordinary John who is so special and so interesting. John who looks at me with adoration and respect, instead of hatred and disgust. John, who despite everything, still is around. John who loves me, and who I love.

John who besides me mumbles something about machines. I look down at my lap, my fingers twitching with the need to take John's hand and ensure me that everything is alright. That I haven't destroyed this as I destroy everything else. I ignore the need and fist my hand in the fabric of my trousers instead.

There will be some explanations now because there are some things in this text I want to explain. If you don't have anything you want to explain feel free to skip it and if you want something explained which I haven't explained feel free to ask me in a review or a PM.

1. I'm one of the many who's headcanon is that Sherlock sexuall orientetion falls somewhere in the asexual spectra. So here follows a short expliation on asexuallity (note that sexuallity is different for everyone and therefore some might agree to this and others might not but I'll try to make it as non ofending as possible. Also note that I'm no expert on the subject..) Asexuallity in its broadest sense, is the lack of sexual attraction to others, meaning asexuals don't find other persons sexy and don't have an urge to have sex. However, this doesn't mean that asexuals don't have a sexdrive or don't want to have sex. Some asexuals enjoy sex a lot and some don't want to have any sex at all while others like sex but it kind of meeh. This is entirely up to the person and should be respected. Personally I identify as asexual and I personally find that instead of having an urge to have sex I want to cuddle. Like when I see a picture of someone good looking I want to cuddle them, and not have sex. This is also something that differs from asexuals but the fact that I'm mentioning it is because I base Sherlock's asexuality on my own because that's what's easiest, hence the fact that he liked the cuddling more than the sex.

2. The fact that John got offended when he was called homophobic slurs was not because of the fact that he doesn't like boys, but because homophobic slurs are based on the idea that homosexualls aren't of the same worth or importance as heterosexualls. And for the part where he said I'm not gay. It was partly for the fact that I kind of wanted his catchphrase but also because he isn't gay in this story. He's bi.

Anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for all the alerts, favourites and reviews. It really means a lot to me that you like this story and it makes me feel stronger in everyday life. You are really the best readers ever, all of you.

Reviews are highly appreciated.

Love
/Phin