John POV: It was very obvious that John had just made the mistake of his life, maybe of his existence. Speaking without thinking first had grave consequences in this school, and sometimes it would be excusable if said stupid things were said in private, at worst rumors would spread, they would be disproved, and everyone would forget by the next weekend. However this, oh dear, this had been in front of the whole school! Everyone congregated to watch the cat fight had heard John's love sick declaration, his madness and his rashness that would cost him everything he had in this school, maybe more. However at the moment he didn't really care about what was going to happen, he was thinking about what was happening now. He was running amok, well more accurately he was running somewhere, he had a destination in mind, where would be the only place Sherlock could run to? Well of course the destination was obvious; it was the same place he had tried to escape to when John had first confronted him, all those months ago.
"I will not let you in here!" Mrs. Hudson's voice declared through the closed door, all that John could see of inside was what little view he had in the small window in the door, and even that wasn't enough. He could see her wrinkly skin; sometimes a flash of her hair, however there was no sign of Sherlock.
"I need to talk to him, just please...please let me in!" John begged.
"He's not here." Mrs. Hudson muttered, her voice dropping so low that John could barely even hear her through the door. He simply frowned, for they both knew that was a lie.
"Yes he is." John said flatly.
"Well he doesn't want to talk to you!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yes but he needs to! At least let me explain myself, am I not entitled to that?" John demanded.
"He'll talk to you when he's good and ready, however I'm not...hey! What are you..." Mrs. Hudson's words were cut off when suddenly she was pushed from the little window, and suddenly a new face appeared at the window, a familiar face, a beautiful one.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock's voice demanded, all that could be seen of him was a clear, luminescent eyeball and his white hair disrupted by just a curl or two straggling from his bangs.
"I need to talk to you." John said obviously, frowning and looking around him nervously, feeling as though after such a declaration he was going to have followers, those who wanted more of the story. Oh this was a disaster, a complete...everyone knew now! Something he didn't even know until like, two days ago. He had fallen from the most popular boy, the host of the Spring Fling; to just about the same level as Sherlock and Victor. Just a disgraced homosexual that could've had it all had he been attracted to those he was supposed to.
"I mean what were you doing? What on earth were you thinking saying something like that...don't you know he'll find out? He'll find you." Sherlock muttered. John just shook his head, pretending that he couldn't hear Sherlock's little mutterings, tapping his ear and frowning. Of course he could hear just a faint whisper of what Sherlock was trying to say, however admitting to that would mean he would stay outside the door, far away from the boy he needed to see clearly.
"I can't hear you!" John lied loudly. Sherlock sighed, shaking his head and disappearing for a moment, almost as if he was consulting Mrs. Hudson on the matter. There was some unclear chattering on their side of the door, and finally there was the click of a lock. John took that as his entrance call, and when he finally entered the room he found both of its occupants standing behind the desk, almost as if they thought they still needed a barrier from him. Mrs. Hudson was standing near Sherlock in a very motherly way, with one of her hands on his shoulder as if she was getting ready to shield him from any sort of attack John had to offer. This was all just so melodramatic, and John sighed heavily so as to demonstrate his annoyance.
"You people act like I'm here to kill you." John muttered with a sigh.
"No, no we know that you won't hurt him it's just, well..." Mrs. Hudson heaved a great sigh, shaking her old head as if to admit that she had no idea what was expected of her in this situation. Obviously she didn't learn about this sort of thing in teacher school.
"Sherlock I need to explain myself, please, I don't want you to be mad at me or anything like that, I mean I'm sure whatever I was feeling was sort of, well, obvious? After Friday night but Mary sort of forced it out of me and now..."
"You're ruined." Sherlock said flatly, interrupting John before he could talk about the long run and lasting effects of his blunder. John sighed with a frown; however he nodded in the end.
"Ya, I'm ruined." John agreed.
"And dead, probably, as soon as the news reaches Victor." Sherlock added.
"And dead." John agreed, slouching just a little bit and considering if he should write a will or not. Surely he had nothing to give?
"What's Victor going to do?" Mrs. Hudson wondered in a nervous little croak.
"Kill him." Sherlock said obviously. John traced a line on his throat, just to emphasize the place he was in now. Mrs. Hudson placed a hand on her heart, which was old lady sign language to express their horror.
"You're just being overdramatic I'm sure?" Mrs. Hudson breathed.
"Oh I wish. That demon..."
"Watch it." Sherlock warned, to which John just smiled apoplectically.
"That kid beat me half to death already, just for driving Sherlock home. And that was when he was just speculating that we were in love." John muttered.
"Who ever said I loved you?" Sherlock growled as Mrs. Hudson began to go very white.
"You didn't but I mean...." John smiled hopefully, to which Sherlock began to flush quite furiously and shake his head slowly. "Dang." John sighed.
"John you have to understand that I'm with Victor now, and as much as I'm flattered by your offer there are just factors coming into play now. I hate to say that you're two years too late." Sherlock muttered.
"But Sherlock you can dump Victor as easily as I dumped Mary, maybe with a little bit of protection and a restraining order, but it can be done. You know as well as I that he's no good for you, and you're only with him because you feel like you need to be." John pointed out.
"I'm with him because I love him!" Sherlock defended.
"You're too afraid to admit that you're terrified." John murmured.
"Why should Sherlock be terrified? Victor wouldn't hurt you Sherlock, would he?" Mrs. Hudson muttered fearfully, taking a step back and examining Sherlock's face, almost as if she was just now noticing the scratch that ran deeply along his face.
"How else do you think he got those bruises, that cut?" John offered. Sherlock suddenly turned his face away with a whimper, as if too afraid to display the evidence of Victor's abuse.
"Victor didn't do that to you Sherlock, did he? You said that was from an accident, a coat hanger?" Mrs. Hudson clarified, her voice sounding pathetically hopeful as if she was just praying that Sherlock nodded. The boy, however, seemed too overwhelmed to do much else than shake his head solemnly, unable to look the poor woman in the eyes. Mrs. Hudson gasped, looking over to John as if wondering how on earth he knew all of this.
"Well this can't stand! No Sherlock, you need to get help...why didn't you tell me before?" Mrs. Hudson asked in a whisper. She was trying to console Sherlock by stepping closer and patting him on his cheek like only a grandmother could do.
"Because it's not...it doesn't matter! He's working on it, he'll change it's just..." Sherlock muttered, however he couldn't finish his sentence, he couldn't bear to say such things simply because he knew they were untrue. Victor was not in any position to change, he hadn't changed for two years and he wasn't going to stop now.
"He won't change Sherlock, if he hadn't before he won't now. You've been coming to me with so many bruises, I thought nothing of it in the past but looking back, oh you poor thing!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, throwing her arms around Sherlock almost as if she thought she owed him some sort of apology. Sherlock was obviously very taken aback, however after a moment's hesitation he took a deep breath and finally hugged her back; almost as if he thought there was nothing better he could do to get her off.
"He'll be fine, just as long as we do something about it. We can't be hiding anymore, we're on your side Sherlock whether you like it or not." John said flatly. Mrs. Hudson nodded passionately, finally releasing Sherlock from her grip. He seemed very uncomfortable however he was most certainly flattered, that poor kid had never had anyone stand up for him, and now with his two (almost?) friends finally taking a stand, well there was something to be said about that.
"How do I know this isn't some sort of selfish thing? The last time you tried to 'protect' me from Victor you kissed me, how do I know this isn't another scheme?" Sherlock demanded. John sighed heavily, knowing that whatever he said wasn't going to be enough to convince Sherlock, he just had to trust him just a little bit.
"I give you my word, I won't overstep my boundaries." John assured, feeling just a bit embarrassed to be saying such a thing. As if he was such a problem before!
"So you really love him?" Mrs. Hudson clarified, looking between the two boys curiously, almost as if she was trying to imagine the two of them together. She seemed to like this idea, for the smallest of smiles appeared across her face before she pointedly wiped it off her lips.
"Of course I love him." John growled, keeping his head down as if this was something to be ashamed of.
"John I..." Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head as if he simply couldn't say it, not today at least. "Oh never mind." he finished in a sigh.
"I know you don't love me back, I'm okay with that, honestly I am." John assured.
"It's not that, we both know that you've been better to me than anyone I know, you've been there for me for ages now, it's just so sudden, so unexpected. I spent all of those eight years wondering what would've happened if you ever liked me back, and now here; it's just all too overwhelming, all too late." Sherlock admitted with a breath. John and Mrs. Hudson bothered noticed that Sherlock had alluded to his past love of John; however they chose not to comment on it, at least not yet. Maybe it was just something that slipped out.
"Well I'm sorry then. Then again Sherlock, I do have some share of your heart, being as though we still are married." John pointed out with a grin. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh, a beautiful smile appearing on his face for just a moment before it disappeared once more, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe John still remembered that.
"I'm sure Victor would love to hear that argument." Sherlock laughed.
"You're married?" Mrs. Hudson clarified, her eyes glazing over in confusion as she looked between the two giggling boys once more.
"Oh ya, it'll soon be our nine year anniversary, of course you're welcome to join in the um...the festivities." Sherlock muttered with a laugh.
"I'm beyond confused; you boys are just too much for an old woman." Mrs. Hudson murmured.
"Too long of a story." John shrugged.
"It's really not." Sherlock defended.
"Yes but do you feel like telling it?" John pointed out with a lazy sigh. Sherlock nodded, as if he saw now that John had a point.
"Yes, it's a very long story." He agreed, and the three of them giggled a little bit. The clock announced their return to reality, the bell ringing and forcing them to leave whatever safe environment they had made for themselves and return to what happened in the real world, where love was not understood and feelings were made to be hurt. The real world were the school waited to hear the rest of the story that had begun more than eight years ago and just resurfaced in the hallway today, the real world in which Victor lurked, waiting for John to come out into the light. 

 Greg was staring at him, he could feel it. John was sitting in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, while Greg was sitting as far as he could away from him. Thankfully he was trying to be polite about it, however John had to lock the doors just in case all of Greg's body weight managed to pry the door open and send the poor kid sprawling against the pavement. John didn't want to talk, however Greg was making it only too obvious that he had questions, and he was using this pathetic staring technique to worm whatever confessions had back out into the open. 

"So..." Greg started nervously.
"Nope. Don't want to talk about it." John said flatly.
"I really think we should..." Greg murmured, sitting up just a little bit straighter as if he wanted to prove to John just how acceptant he was.
"I really don't think we should." John decided with a shrug.
"No but I think we're going to." Greg said flatly, sitting up and nodding his head confidently. "Ya, we're going to."
"I kissed him." John admitted in a breath, to which Greg's mouth just dropped open, not expecting something like that to surface so easily. He looked almost as if he was on the brink of just jumping out of that car reassuringly, almost as if he was starting to doubt that this was all real.
"You what?" Greg gaped. John hummed in agreement, nodding and staring blankly at the road before him.
"Ya, oh ya. At the party, Friday night. I kissed him all over, we basically made out." John admitted, still unblinking, wondering why on earth he was telling this to Greg. Maybe it was the simple fact that he needed to tell someone, it felt good to vent.
"Well um, well John whatever you want really. I'm not one to um...judge? I'm just surprised really; I never really thought you were the type." Greg admitted in a very fearful breath.
"Not the type? Ah, but think again." John mumbled.
"You're not yourself." Greg decided finally, leaning forward as if to check that John's eyes weren't red.
"I am myself. I've very much me." John assured him.
"Are you high? Drunk? Have you been, I don't know, sniffing glue?" Greg suggested, squinting his eyes suspiciously.
"I'm probably going to die, so I just wanted to tell someone that. I'm sober." John assured with a shrug.
"You're going to...to die? Wait a second, first you're gay, now you've got a death sentence, goodness John what else am I missing?" Greg exclaimed.
"I'm an alien." John added in all seriousness. Greg chuckled nervously, however right now he couldn't tell if he was actually kidding or not.
"Wait, so who's going to kill you?" Greg wondered.
"Victor Trevor. In fact he's probably waiting for me now, with a machete, or a big wrench. He'll beat my skull in, just you watch." John assured. Greg thought for a moment, his face fallen grave, as if trying to imagine what that might look like.
"Was he the one at the party that fell into the pool?" Greg wondered.
"No no, he was pushed into the pool. By me. Because he cut Sherlock with his car key and Sherlock came running to me and I hid him in my room and Victor came looking. He's abusive, he's crazy." John added.
"I don't think he's the only one." Greg murmured nervously.
"I'm not crazy Greg, that I am not." John assured as he pulled down the road leading to the two solitary houses. Greg didn't seem all too convinced, however.
"Does he like you though? He kind of screamed." Greg pointed out.
"Stage fright, we all get it. He likes me, he's just got Victor." John insisted with a mournful shrug.
"You're not actually afraid of Victor, are you? Like you don't think he's really going to come and kill you?" Greg reassured nervously.
"Oh ya, I'm most certainly dead." John agreed with a sigh.
"That's unfortunate." Greg decided with a blank stare. John nodded his agreement, pulling into his driveway and seeing that there was Victor's car, parked in the Holmes' driveway. The engine was still on, for there were still fumes coming from the tailpipe, however at first it didn't seem like anyone was inside.
"Whose car is that?" Greg asked as he stepped out onto the pavement, the sunshine beaming down on them gently, warmly. John got to his feet and sighed heavily, slamming his door shut and leaning against it bitterly.
"Victor Trevor's." John sighed. Greg sighed, almost as if he was worried for John's life.
"You're neighbors with Victor Trevor?" Greg clarified. John just sighed, shaking his head for Greg really should've known this by now.
"Oh no, no of course not." John laughed, and almost as if on cue the car in the Holmes' driveway began to rock back and forth. An arm shot up from the backseat, but that was the only evidence that it was occupied. Greg gasped, almost letting lose a scream before looking back at John in horror.
"Let's go inside." John suggested bitterly, locking his car three times, just to be sure that the pair didn't decide to migrate. When they walked inside Harry was already there, sitting on the couch and giggling to herself. Mrs. Watson sat next to her, although she didn't seem to know what was so funny yet.
"Oh he's back!" Harry exclaimed with a grin. John groaned, having momentarily forgotten that he would have to deal with his own sister tormenting him. The kids at school he could handle with no problem, however the moment Harry started to get involved in things she really had no business in meddling with, well that's when it began to be a problem.
"Yes, hello to my lovely sister." John growled.
"And who's that with you? Oh it's just Greg; I thought it might be Sherlock." Harry teased.
"Hm, if only." John murmured, waving at his very confused mother before dashing up the stairs with Greg at his heels.
"So she knows...obviously." Greg muttered as soon as they closed the door to the bedroom. John immediately went to the window, looking down at Victor's car, which had finally stilled. He really didn't want to know what was going on in there, and thankfully Victor's car didn't have a sunroof or he might have gotten the entire story by just a downward facing glance.
"Obviously." John agreed.
"So this isn't like a joke though? You're being serious, like dead serious?" Greg clarified.
"Oh ya, no like seriously. I'm like...totally in love with him. Shall I write a will?" John wondered, turning on his heel and shrugging as if he had nothing better to do than plan for his death.
"No that's morbid; just call the police, like a normal person." Greg suggested with a shrug, looking reluctant to sit on the bed but flopping down anyway.
"I think I'll write a will." John decided finally, sitting down at his desk and tapping his pencil against the table, unearthing a blank sheet of notebook paper and staring at it thoughtfully.
"What of mine do you want if I die?" John wondered, looking up at Greg who had already started to stare transfixed at the ceiling above.
"Ooh, I get stuff?" Greg asked excitedly.
"Well ya, you're kind of my best friend. You can get like...my math textbook." John suggested.
"Can I have your car? And your video games?" Greg suggested.
"Ya, why not." John agreed. He wrote at the top The Last Will and Testament of John Watson and scrawled Greg's name and wishes below.
"Okay cool." Greg agreed with a sigh.
"I'll leave my college fund to Sherlock, who needs money to go to college." John decided, writing that down in his horrible handwriting below Greg's name.
"That's very generous." Greg agreed. John hummed in agreement, he was known for being quite generous at times when he feared for his life.
"And I'll leave everything else to my parents, who can sell my story to one of those cop shows, and then they can use the money to make a museum for me, because by then I'll be super famous, and they can put all my junk in there and make money off of it." John suggested finally.
"Brilliant." Greg agreed, although now he sounded like he was getting bored.
"And I'll add a little footnote here, if you find me dead, it was Victor Trevor." John smiled at his handwork and set it on the desk to be admired, deciding that was enough work for now and sitting back heavily in his desk chair. There was movement outside, the two boys were stumbling out of the backseat in a daze, Sherlock walking very nervously at Victor's side as he did up the buttons on his jacket, looking as if he was worried something was going to happen. Victor seemed surprisingly carefree, almost as if the news hadn't gotten to him yet. Maybe that's why Sherlock was so concerned, because Victor wasn't.
"God how I wish he were mine." John growled, turning away from the window with a frown and looking at Greg, who suddenly didn't seem to know what to say. Maybe he was being a bit overwhelming; however in all fairness this was exactly how Greg acted about Molly, always going on about how much he loved her. What made Sherlock any different?