Sherlock POV: Sherlock woke tangled in Victor's arms, as he always loved to, when the soft rocking of Victor's breaths woke him and cradled him until finally those blue eyes opened as well. The alarm clock woke Victor, eventually, and the poor boy groaned miserably, waking up and hugging Sherlock tighter to his bare chest as if in protest.
"Not that time already?" Victor whined, nestling his head into Sherlock's shoulder and kissing his collar bone with sleepy, reluctant lips.
"Well if the alarm clock says it's time to get up..." Sherlock started, however Victor shushed him with a groan, reaching over and swatting at the poor clock.
"Then it's time to hit snooze." He said finally, however he was unaware that Sherlock had pushed the clock just out of his reach, for he knew this was a problem. There had been one morning, one of the first during which they had woken up together, that Victor had hit snooze nearly eleven times, making them both late for school and the subject of much questioning when they raced out of the house together. In the early days of their relationship no one had really known about the relationship part, they had just been considered 'good friends' for a long while until they were basically forced to admit their love for each other. Sherlock had been afraid for his mother to find out; however his brother was the bigger concern. Mycroft had always been so peculiar, and without a real father Sherlock had learned to see his brother as the man of the house, the one who wanted everything in order and everyone to be perfectly normal. Well Sherlock didn't fit that definition, and it had only been in a moment of desperation that Sherlock had finally admitted his relationship. That moment, of course, had been when Mycroft walked in on the two of them getting a little bit affectionate on the couch. Of course in that moment there really wasn't that much explaining to do, Sherlock was quite sure that Mycroft could put the pieces together from there.
"No we're not going to hit the snooze, come on Victor, we've both got places to be." Sherlock insisted, however as soon as he tried to wriggle away Victor trapped him once more in his arms and pressed more sleepy kisses all around his face, as if trying to tempt him into staying.
"I'm exactly where I need to be." Victor assured, to which Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head in protest. Of course he would like to stay, it would be wonderful if he could just stay in this cocoon of warmth with his beloved boyfriend, however he had school, as did Victor, and they needed education more than they needed five more minutes of cuddle time. Sherlock whined a little bit, giggling while finally pushing Victor away and falling out of bed onto the soft carpet. Victor sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling with his arms spread across the bed, empty and lonely.
"Oh why did I have to date the most punctual boy?" Victor whined in protest.
"Well you could certainly just break up with me, and find someone that would sleep in." Sherlock offered with a smug smile, knowing quite well that such a thing would never happen. Victor was giggling as well; they both knew what a preposterous idea that was.
"Maybe I will." Victor decided.
"Oh good, well I think Mycroft's available, and he's the laziest guy I know." Sherlock offered with a smirk, walking into the bathroom and running the shower water for a brief moment, sticking his curls under the stream just to give the impression that he had showered. Of course he had showered the night before, but a lot had happened since then.
"I think I'd rather just be on time." Victor called back. When Sherlock reappeared from the bathroom he found Victor sitting on the side of the bed and rubbing his tired eyes, pulling on his tee shirt in the darkness. Sherlock smiled at him softly, taking a small moment to appreciate the boy when he thought no one was watching. Victor ran his hand through his hair and yawned once more, looking around the room for his shoes before he finally noticed Sherlock standing in the doorframe, watching him.
"For someone who wants to be on time, you're spending an awful lot of time just staring at me. It's kind of creepy." Victor admitted with a smile, however Sherlock just smiled back, and made his way over to the closet to pick out a shirt to wear to school. Victor turned on one of the lamps, washing the dark room in a very dim orange light while he got to his feet and stretched out, yawning a couple more times before finally stumbling into the bathroom to freshen up. Sherlock dressed, drying his hair the best he could with a towel before brushing it out and lacing up his shoes, checking his reflection in the mirror a couple of times to make sure he was decent. It wasn't too much of an inconvenience when Victor came over, in fact it was always worth it, however it was always chaos in the morning, chaos exactly like this.
"How is it possible for you to look so beautiful so early in the morning? My eyes haven't even adjusted to the light and you still manage to blind me." Victor murmured, appearing behind Sherlock in the mirror and embracing him from behind, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist, letting his head fall onto Sherlock's shoulder as he stared at the two of them in the mirror. The bruise had just about faded, and yet Sherlock could still feel Victor's eyes concentrating on where it should be, if the lighting was good enough to display it.
"I'm sorry." Victor repeated, those two words that Sherlock had become most accustomed to hearing from him.
"There's no need to apologize Victor." Sherlock murmured, feeling a little bit shy in Victor's remorseful gaze. He hated the pity, but he also knew it was necessary for change.
"Yes there is, it's desecration to hurt you. My temper just gets out of hand, you know that." Victor whispered.
"Yes I know that." Sherlock agreed.
"You forgive me?" Victor asked hopefully, rocking Sherlock very slowly as if in a mournful dance.
"Yes of course Victor, as long as you work on it." Sherlock agreed.
"I am working on it." Victor assured. "If I become my father I give you every right to strike me down."
"I'm not going to kill you, don't be dramatic." Sherlock insisted, however Victor's face just broke into a smile, reaching his head over Sherlock's shoulder so that he could press a kiss onto his cheek, making Sherlock giggle as he kissed the side of his face more and more, finally turning Sherlock around and holding him to his chest, staring down at his boyfriend with love in his eyes, legitimate love, and not a sign of any anger that had been simmering there a couple of days earlier.
"I love you." Victor muttered softly.
"I love you too, of course I do." Sherlock agreed. Victor leaned over ever so slightly (for he was just an inch or so taller) and pressed a sleepy kiss onto Sherlock's lips, almost as if he was trying to prove something by doing so.
"Then let's go, like you said, we'll be late." Victor decided, finally slipping away and pulling on his work boots, donning his leather jacket, and swooshing his bangs over his forehead appropriately. Sherlock grabbed his backpack and followed suit, putting on his trench coat and following Victor down the stairs. There was no breakfast waiting for them, and they had no reason to expect it. The house was empty, Mrs. Holmes's bedroom door was closed, and they merely grabbed for some apples from a bowl that was never refilled, nor noticed, by the woman of the house. Together they made their way out to Victor's car, which was frosted despite the fallacy of spring weather, and clambered inside. It was freezing as it always was, and Sherlock already noticed that John Watson's car was absent from his driveway, proving ever more that they were going to be late for school again. Victor turned on the engine and started down the road, turning on the radio to get rid of the silence and blasting the heat despite its blowing only cold air. They didn't talk, they were too tired to talk, and so they both just focused on the road in front of them, the cars that went by, and the fields that stretched endlessly on either side.
"Alright Sherlock, have a good day." Victor said in a mockingly feminine voice as they pulled up along the curb of the high school.
"Thanks mom." Sherlock teased as he grabbed at his backpack from the backseat.
"Do you have your lunch?" Victor wondered.
"Of course. Made it last night." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh ya." Victor admitted with a bit of a solemn face. "Well don't get food poisoning then."
"I've grown immune over the years." Sherlock assured as he pushed open the door and clambered out onto the frosted sidewalk.
"Make new friends! But not with guys who are cuter than me!" Victor called as Sherlock began to close to the door.
"Oh, as if there were such a thing." Sherlock teased, and with a quick exchange of smiles Sherlock closed the door and started towards the school, trying not to notice the pair of unwavering eyes that were watching him from a little ways down the sidewalk. He knew that Victor was still watching him, and if he noticed Sherlock looking back at where John Watson stood he would have to do a lot of explaining. School was a drastically different experience for Sherlock since Victor had dropped out, for there were no more friendly faces in the crowd. In fact now that everyone knew he and Victor were together there were more disgusted faces than there usually was, for everyone seemed to view a homosexual as not just a free roaming, peace loving creature, but a serial adulter and an obscene flirt. The boys were terrified of him, which in some aspects was a very good thing. At least Sherlock didn't have to worry about defending his conversations if no one ever talked to him. Then again, the hallways did get kind of lonely. The girls always thought it was their duty to talk to him, which in a way was horribly annoying however sometimes it was a relief just to have a conversation, just to assure himself that he hadn't suddenly turned invisible. They would ask him about Victor, for they had all been in love with him at one point, and they would take great interest in how their relationship was blooming. Sherlock was be honest, for the girls never seemed to do him any harm, in fact they seemed genuinely interested. They probably just wanted a gay best friend, which of course he could never amount to being. However it was at least flattering to get some attention. Girls that weren't disgusted in his sexuality always proved to be good acquaintances. Of course there was also that breed of human who treated him like dirt, whether they be a girl or a boy, they saw him as some sort of horrible accident, as some sort of sinner. It was a shame, really, that they treated him so badly, it was actually becoming a little bit like bullying. Of course it wasn't physical, most of the time, but there were comments made when he walked by, there were glares exchanged and giggles erupted, they thought he was obscene because of his sexuality; apparently it went against what they believed in. That or they just wanted someone to pick on, and saw the school's only unintimidating gay kid to be the prime suspect. The only other homosexuals the school had to offer were all very terrifying, even Sherlock could admit that. Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran, for instance, was the couple everyone stayed away from, even the girls who wanted to be supportive. No one even knew if the two were actually dating or not, however Jim often held Moran's hand, sometimes they would stand together in the corner of the hallway and hold each other in their arms...no one dared look...and yet no one really knew what was going on. Victor was, of course, another example of a boy too fearful to be questioned, and even though he wasn't actually in the school anymore he was quite the topic of conversation. All the kids remembered him, especially from the grade above Sherlock, the one he had left. There still seemed to be some girls that hadn't gotten the memo and were actually in love with him, a ridiculous thought really, and they would sometimes stand in packs near the door when school let out and watch him as he smoked on the hood of his car, waiting for Sherlock to arrive. There seemed to be another very rare species of boy in the school, a new addition to the lineup of people that actually noticed him, a category taken up by only one kid. Sherlock pretended not to notice when John Watson was watching him, however it was becoming ever so impossible to ignore in the classes they shared, trying to keep his head down while he felt those eyes getting ever more intense. Sherlock wasn't sure what John wanted with him, whether to tease him or to taunt him or to actually become his friend...it was all a mystery. It had begun after that makeshift dinner party, and especially after Sherlock had gotten that bruise. He made a point to stay away from the boy when necessary; however he didn't see John as very threatening. In fact he seemed more curious, and it was rather hard to begin to hate a boy who had been on your thoughts since you were young. Sherlock didn't necessarily want John's attention, however he appreciated it nonetheless. John had been his first crush, he had spent years just sitting alone, wondering if John had ever thought the same way about him...well what if John was beginning to think about it now? Wonder if he was beginning to think that maybe Sherlock was desirable? Well of course that was preposterous, and even if it was plausible it would be impossible, for Sherlock was very much with Victor and John was on the verge of going out with that Mary Morstan. It was the news all over the school, and even though Sherlock didn't talk to anyone it was impossible to miss. John and Mary would be a good looking couple, for they both had blonde hair and they were both popular, relatively good looking, and relatively nice people. Sherlock didn't know much about the relationship status of course, nor did he really care, however it was interesting to see the two love birds interact. It would seem that Mary was much more keen than John, in fact there were times when John seemed all together indifferent, however no one could tell accept those who had known him for a while...a long while. Sherlock could tell, and yet no one would ever think he could. They would never think to ask. No one really knew of Sherlock and John's friendship way back when, John never talked of it and Sherlock had no one to tell, it was all just an awkward secret that wasn't really a secret, it was just never spoken of. It wasn't like they were embarrassed, more like they had almost forgotten themselves. That was, at least, until when the parents had finally remembered. Then whatever friendship there had been was restored. Or at least reminded of. 

  Now was calculous, the most tedious class period of the day, for it was filled with stupid people asking stupid questions and there was always that ever present glare from the side of the classroom occupied by John. And so Sherlock always felt the need to look both beautiful and studious, keeping his posture and keeping his gaze on his paper, keeping his chin up and his curly bangs out of his eyes, just in case John was looking. Of course he wasn't really trying to look beautiful, he wasn't trying to impress, Sherlock just felt like he needed to keep up appearances, just in case John was expecting something out of him. There was something that he felt he had to accomplish, almost as though John's expectations were something that direly had to be met. Sherlock took to thinking about Victor through the class period, wondering what he was doing now at his technical school, wondering what he was learning, or building, or taking apart. Victor didn't talk much about his school, he only mentioned some interesting cars he had seen, or maybe some people that had dared make a snide comment to him. He liked to show off the blood stains he got on the cuffs of his leather jacket when he beat them up in the parking lot after school. It was a tough world for Sherlock in public school, however it was even worse for Victor where he went, since half of those kids used the word 'gay' as an adjective to describe horrible things. Victor had never fully admitted his sexuality, however word gets around, and soon he found himself in a very rough environment indeed. Half of those kids liked cars because no girls would ever like them, and when they found out that working beside them was a boy who liked boys, well they went after him almost as if they had the right. The only difference between the two boys was that Sherlock could take the insults, while Victor made the bully take them himself, usually in the form of a fist. Sometimes Sherlock dreamed of the day when Victor could appear at the high school once again and beat some kids for what they had said to Sherlock in the years past, but then again that would probably do more harm than good. Of course Sherlock loved the gentle side of Victor, not necessarily the rough side, despite that side's obvious convenience. When lunch finally came Sherlock grabbed his lunch box from his locker, deciding that, once again, the cafeteria was much too crowded and he was simply too good to sit alone at a large table that no one else dare sit at. And so Sherlock headed to the only oasis in this good for nothing excuse for education factory, down to the math hallway to where his favorite teacher was undoubtedly waiting. Sherlock had Mrs. Hudson for algebra when he had just entered the high school, and she had become more of a mother to him than his actual mother ever would be. She was something of the grandmother of the school; however she had taken an instant liking to him, as he had a way with numbers and he looked a little bit thin. She was quick to notice that he had no friends and so she sort of adopted him into her own classroom, almost as though she decided she would herself act as both his best friend and his mother away from home. Mrs. Hudson had been very kind to him over the years, and she always let him sit in her classroom while she had her lunch break if he was too afraid to go into the cafeteria were the mess of kids and food was waiting. Sherlock knocked very lightly on the door, finding that it was unlocked yet waiting for her polite response. 

"Come in!" Mrs. Hudson called from inside, and Sherlock pulled open the door and let himself in. Nothing had changed really, since yesterday and since two years ago when he had her for class. The desks were organized in simple, neat rows and her desk was sitting up front, the walls decorated with all sorts of laminated math equations and encouraging posters with animals wearing clothes.
"Hi Mrs. Hudson, is it okay..."
"Yes of course it is darling, sit down!" Mrs. Hudson assured, cutting him off immediately and gesturing to one of the empty desks in front of her. Sherlock smiled with relief, walking quickly to one of the desks and sitting down abruptly. It had been a while since he had been in here for lunch, for he had been too ashamed to show up with that bruise on his face, and he knew of course she would want to know all about it, who it was from, why it happened, all that stuff that was just too nauseating to explain. Yet Mrs. Hudson was very obviously curious, for as Sherlock unpacked what meager lunch he had packed himself he saw Mrs. Hudson's old eyes watching him with a curious gaze.
"Thanks." Sherlock murmured after a short moment of silence, unwrapping his sad looking ham sandwich and staring at it with a glum expression.