The next day, a new text appeared in John's inbox:

John, meet me at lunch. I'll be at my house and you can drop by.

- SH

John smiled. Even though their note passing days were behind them, they still signed their texts the same way. And he was glad to get away from the school cafeteria. It was beginning to smell like rotten eggs and no one had any idea why.

Okay, Sherlock. And I'm really sorry about yesterday. I'll be at your house right after the lunch bell rings.

- John

John had psychology and AP English first which made him want to blow his brains out. But he was looking forward to going over to Sherlock's house at lunch. Every time he went over, which was quite frequently, he was greeted by the smell of Mycroft's baked good of the day.

When the bell finally rang for lunch, John sprinted over to Sherlock's and rang the doorbell. "Hello, is Sherlock upstairs?"

"No, he's cleaning his room," Mycroft responded. "But I suppose I am to let you in?"

"Yeah thanks Mycroft," John told him.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and stepped back so that John could walk in. As soon he did, the scent of rich, delicious cinnamon rolls washed over him. John threw off his shoes and ran to the kitchen. Mycroft had gotten used to John stealing his food ever since he got together with Sherlock. So he always made extra when Sherlock invited him over.

"Sherlock, your pest is here!" Mycroft moaned.

"Stop calling him that, Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted back.

John was sitting on the couch with a cinnamon bun in-hand as Sherlock pranced in. Sherlock smirked at Mycroft knowing full well how much he hates sharing food. Then, of course, Sherlock took a roll himself and sat next to John. He leaned his head against shoulder and they stared out the giant glass windows.

"You two are insufferable," Mycroft groaned as he walked away to his room.

"Good to see you too, Mycroft," John replied.

Sherlock and John snickered as they finished off their dessert. Then, Sherlock walked over to the fridge. He took out some left over lasagna and heated it up in two bowls as he chatted with John.

Sherlock walked back to the living area and handed John his lasagna and sat back down next to him. "So John... Why didn't... Why didn't you tell me?"

John took a bite of lasagna. "I didn't want you to worry about it, Sherlock. You always think you're Mr. Detective. But there's nothing you can do about this."

"John... your father-"

"You have other things to worry about. You have school and a career and- You were accepted to MIT, Harvard, and Yale," John continued, "Don't bother with this, Sherlock. Soon... Soon it won't even matter."

"Well of course it will, John. You'll still see him-"

"No Sherlock. It will not matter, because you and I are headed in very different directions," John told him. "And soon it won't matter, because you have a bright future ahead and you won't have time to worry about me. Alright?"

John got up off his seat and stormed off I got he kitchen. He grabbed a sponge and lathered a bit of dish soap onto the bowl and rinsed it off in the sink. But Sherlock was already one step ahead of him and grabbed his bag so he couldn't leave.

"What are you talking about, John?" Sherlock stepped in his way as he was heading out there door.

John tried to snatch his bag away from Sherlock. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't even afford to leave London. But you've been accepted to the three most prestigious schools in North America. With full scholarships." He tried another time. "I'm talking about the fact that this won't matter to you in a few years. It'll just be some good memories you have to look back on and reminisce."

"Great memories, John. We've made some of the best memories together. And we're not done making them." Sherlock dangled the bag over John's head. "John I thought we were going to do long distance when I went away to school."

John grabbed his bag out of Sherlock's grasp and ran out of his house.