John gently pleated the corner of his paper over and over again and ripped it off. He did this again the whole class until his paper was in pieces. He stared at it, almost pridefully, it looked like a mess but it took the entire class to do it. It was an organized mess and it was his and he put effort into it.

"Watson!" John's teacher looked over at him.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"What are the main human influences factors that increase the risk of floods?"

"Um-"

"What are you doing over there?" John's teacher walked over to him.

The heads of the the other students was no longer shielding his secret little corner in the back row. Instead, the students all looked back at him and cleared a path for Mr. Emerson to walk to John's desk. The teacher stood there staring at all the shreds of paper torn up and spread out across John's desk.

"What is this?"

"It's- I was getting distracted I'm-"

Suddenly the bell rang for lunch. John got up like he did every other day, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He started walking to the door. Emerson stopped him and put his hand on John's shoulder.

"Mr. Watson, could you stay behind for a bit to chat with me?" he asked.

John didn't see any choice. It was strange the way teachers asked these types of questions, knowing they didn't really give students any choice but to comply. So John nodded and sat back down at his desk, his head hanging low looking at his converse shoes.

"What's going on John?" the teacher implored.

"Nothing I'm fine. Just a little distracted. Sorry."

"John... I'm not here to punish you. I don't want you to fail my class, I understand all my students have unique situations going on at home. But I'm just trying to figure out how to make learning easier for you."

"No you don't have to do that, I was just a little distracted today-"

"You have a 39 in this class. It's not just today. I don't-"

John stopped listening, his ears started ringing and burning. He could feel them getting red. He couldn't think straight. He saw the teacher mouthing words but he could not put them together. He had a 39 in geography, how did this happen? How will he cover this up? His hands started shaking and his face growing red.

He can't tell his father, not that his father would care anyway. But this is his last year, his last chance. He's already failing chemistry even with Sherlock's help. He can't spend another year here. He can't-

Mr. Emerson was still babbling on, "-can I make this easier for you, John? Do you need to talk to me about anything?"

"No..."

"John you don't understand. There's very little that we-"

"You couldn't possibly understand."

John could feel his jaw tightening, his head getting hot, and his chest feeling heavy. He was trying to resist before he did something to make it worse. He thought about Sherlock. He thought about Sherlock's curls, Sherlock's trench coat, the cute way he smirks when he's outsmarted John, he thought about the way Sherlock smells, the way-

"You're failing John. There's very little we can do at this point in the semester. Now there are recovery programs during the summer or I can offer you a few more heavier weighted assignments to give you an opportunity to get your grade at least to a 50," Emerson continued.

Sherlock's smile, Sherlock's little strut, the way Sherlock's face lights up every single time he sees John, the way Sherlock touches his skin so gently and inquisitively, the way Sherlock would write him coded word scrambles and they ended up as some kind message saying how much he loved John.

But Sherlock was leaving.

Sherlock wouldn't be here anymore.

There would be no escape from this. He couldn't look to Sherlock for comfort from his school, from his father, from the boringness of ordinary life.

John's salvation was going to go and leave for another continent.

If he failed... he'd be stuck here in this place forever, without Sherlock.

"John? Are you listening? I need you to take your education seriously," he explained.

"Shut up," John grumbled.

"Excuse me, Mr. Watson-"

Everything was hard to focus on through John's heart nearly pumping out of his chest, his veins starting to protrude. He couldn't hold it back much longer.

"Sorry," he shook his head, "I understand, Mr. Emerson. I will try harder to focus."

"It's too late for that. Either an entire month worth of assignments you didn't do need to be finished as well as summative assessments and a few extra assignments or summer school or you do not pass."

"What..."

"I wish there were more options-"

John stood up from his desk. He couldn't fail high school. He couldn't. He would have to sit through another year of this. He would have to do all of this work again. He would be stuck in this boring town, in his tiny house, with his father forever... and without Sherlock.

"NO!" John punched his teacher in the face.

Mr. Emerson staggered back both from shock and from the impact of the punch. He looked down and there was blood dripping down his white dress shirt. He lightly tapped under his nose and felt a swell of blood spilling down from his nose.

"MR. WATSON! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" he chided.

"NO I'M NOT FAILING."

"And you think hitting me will fix that?"

Suddenly another teacher walked in the class. She saw John standing defensively, glaring at Mr. Emerson holding his fist in his other hand. Then she looked at Mr. Emerson, leaning against a desk for support as blood dropped down his nose.

"MR. WATSON, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Ms. Donovan exclaimed.

"Sally, please I can handle this." Emerson held out his hand, showing his open palm to her to tell her to stop.

"No, this is unacceptable. It's illegal! Mr. Watson, we can press charges against you."

"Stop it, stop it right now. No charges. We will speak with the boy's parents and resolve this"

"NO. PLEASE no, no not my parents... anything else. You can press charges if you want," John pleaded.

Emerson could sense the desperation in John's voice. It was obvious his parents were the issue, he could not implicate them in this.

"Fine," Emerson agreed, "detention."

"Okay." John smiled.

"For the rest of the school year."