"Wonderful breakfast as usual my dear." Mr. Watson said with a grin, and with that he set his mug on the counter and went off to do who knows what. John began to eat faster, in an attempt to get out of there as quickly as possible. It was futile, of course, for almost as soon as his father had disappeared Mrs. Watson took the chair opposite him, folding her hands importantly in front of her and staring at her son with a tragic look upon her face. John tried to focus on his breakfast, yet it was becoming increasingly difficult as he could feel his mother's eyes focused ever intently on him.
"Did you break up with Mary then?" Mrs. Watson wondered finally, using her serious voice. It was the most cringe inducing moment of his life, purely because he knew his mother was going to try to take this as seriously as possible, treating it like some sort of illegal act when all he had done was kiss someone. Why couldn't she just stay out of his business, and if she couldn't grant him that luxury then maybe she could have at least treated it like it was? This was no scandal, it was just a kiss.
"Yes." John agreed in a small voice. Mrs. Watson nodded, looking around as if wanting a reason to pause and think of her next choice of words.
"And did he...did he break up with Victor?" she asked heavily, as if asking such a question disturbed her immensely. John sighed, shaking his head and keeping his gaze focused on the breakfast he no longer had the stomach for.
"No, he didn't." John admitted, shutting his eyes shamefully as he prepared for his mother's long speech about how he shouldn't encouraging such behavior and how he needed to go and apologize or some other nonsense like that. Instead she was quiet, leaning forward and grabbing at John's hands as if to console him. Instead John drew his hands away horrifically, not understanding why she would dare touch him in a moment like this.
"John I'm sorry, you just need to understand that it is not your place to intervene in a relationship like that, ad although I'm sure you had good intentions it's just..."
"It is my place mother, he's asked me to help him get away from Victor, he's too scared to, that boy is so awful to him, he's not good." John insisted flatly, finally raising his eyes up to meet his mother's now that he had found something he was willing to fight for. How dare she speak of things she didn't understand?
"I know, I know he's not good. I've known that for just about as long as they've been together. That's not the point." Mrs. Watson said firmly. "The point is that you shouldn't be with him, not just yet. You need to respect his space, and even though I support your shift in sexuality I do not support your relationship with someone who is already in one."
"It's not like that, he doesn't love Victor anymore, it's just a formality, a title to save his own neck. We're helping him, a teacher from my school and I, we're trying to help him." John admitted finally.
"And that's wonderful, it truly is." Mrs. Watson assured.
"You're not going to keep me from him." John said flatly, getting to his feet quickly and pushing whatever was left of his breakfast aside.
"I don't mean to, of course I knew this was coming..."
"I love him." John said firmly.
"And you always have, that's not the issue." Mrs. Watson agreed with a nod of her head.
"Just stay out of it, mother please just leave me be. I know right from wrong, I'm not a toddler." John insisted with a growl, starting for the stairs and leaving his mother to mutter things and stutter for a moment, trying to think of words that might surface that could convince her son to stay behind. And yet she couldn't think of a single thing, evidently, because she remained silent and let John dash up the stairs without another word. 

 The weekend had held a great many things, mostly staring. John was either staring at the house across the street or his mother was staring at him; it was a continuous loop of misplaced fascination. Fortunately John was using his thick layer of stubbornness to battle his mother's pestering, he knew that as long as he acted like he alone was right she would focus more on the Victor thing more than the whole gay thing. She had a point of course, yes it was a little bit amoral to kiss a boy who was taken but there were so many other underlying factors that couldn't be accounted for, things his mother just couldn't understand, not now, not ever. Sherlock's relationship with Victor was nothing; anyone could see that it meant nothing to Sherlock and so why should John work so hard to try to honor it? He was entitled to love with Sherlock Holmes, and as long as Sherlock was willing then there was nothing wrong with it. There seemed to be no disruptions across the road, and all was quiet. Victor came on Sunday night and his car didn't move until morning, just around the same time John was walking out to his own car. It was an awkward occasion, Victor and Sherlock were just leaving their house the same time John opened the door, and so there was no choice but to stare at each other. Sherlock was thankfully hidden behind Victor, for he spotted John first and it seemed as though he had gotten a little bit breathless. He didn't wave, he didn't say anything, for Victor noticed John just a second afterwards and his glare was obvious even from across the road. 

"Good morning." John called, just as a sort of lovely formality that would infuriate Victor all the more. Victor was silent, grabbing at the car door and yanking it open. He disappeared into the car along with Sherlock, and that was the end of that. The joke was on him, whatever joke that was in play. He thought he was so high and mighty, toting Sherlock around on his arm and showing him off to anyone that might envy him. Ah but how mistaken he was if he thought that Sherlock's arm was secure on his own! Sherlock had lingered to John's direction before and it wasn't going to be the last time, oh little did Victor know how Sherlock had kissed john so sweetly the other night. Little did he know how sweet revenge tasted. John and Harry started off down the road from the Victor mobile, watching as smoke emitted out of the open window as they drove along the deserted country road. John was driving just close enough so that he could see the shapes of the people in the car, he could see their heads, he could see Sherlock's curls. It seemed like a tense ride, for the both of them. Victor kept speeding up and yet John kept persistent, he didn't want to tailgate but he certainly wanted to keep them in view. Maybe this was just another reason Victor couldn't stand him, because he certainly didn't know when to stop. John was rather obnoxious, and yet it didn't dawn on him that maybe following so close to Victor Trevor wasn't a good idea. After all both of their cars still sported the damage that was the result of their last roadside visit, two matching dents. When they arrived at the school John left Victor only to park his car in his respective parking spot while Sherlock was dropped off at the curb. John jumped out of his car as quickly as possible, as if he was trying to meet Sherlock on his way into the building. However as John was walking through the parking lot Victor's little black car pulled up right next to him, music playing from inside and the window beginning to slowly roll down. John sighed heavily, not particularly in the mood to listen to Victor's threats however he was actually rather tempted to laugh in his face this morning. That little jerk didn't know what he didn't know, and it was lovely to watch him try to grasp at straws that were so far out of his reach. When finally the window was rolled down the whole way John walked up to the car to confront him, seeing that Victor was leaning against the driver side door with a cigarette in his teeth. He looked quite proud of himself, for in his hands he held some sort of old pistol, examining it as if he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Hello John." Victor said with a sly smile, turning his gaze towards the boy with an evil twinkle in his blue eyes. John took a horrified step back, however Victor just laughed, not looking to aim it at anyone just yet.
"Oh you like this then?" Victor wondered. "It's my father's; he doesn't know I have it. He won't notice its absence anyway I'm sure."
"You shouldn't have that on school property." John warned lamely, however Victor just laughed, not looking the least bit concerned. Evidently he was one of those hard core boys to which the rules didn't apply.
"No, no I shouldn't. I just wanted to introduce the two of you, considering that this beauty may just have the honor of meeting you again. Take a nice look Mr. Watson, and remember her the next time you look at my boyfriend." Victor advised.
"You're bluffing." John snapped, crossing his arms doubtfully. Of course he really did believe that Victor would kill him, but for the sake of whatever game he thought he was playing he decided to downplay Victor's intimidation. It seemed to anger Victor just enough to get him to lower the barrel of the pistol at John's head, right where he stood in the parking lot. Victor's eyes flashed and for a moment John blinked, seeing his life flash before his eyes as he thought that would be the end, right there. And yet Victor just chuckled, evidently loving the look of horror on John's face, before setting the pistol down in the cup holder and rearranging himself in the driver's seat.
"I'll let you decide if I'm bluffing, Mr. Watson, when you step out of line. This beautiful gun right here might be the very thing that ends your life." Victor warned.
"Guns don't kill people, people do." John pointed out with a little smile.
"Ah yes, well it will be a team effort, maybe. Oh you know what would be fun, you know what would just be fantastic? If I had Sherlock pull the trigger." Victor breathed. With that he puffed a last puff of smoke before taking his cigarette out of his mouth and tossing it out the open window, leaving it to fall right next to John's shoe and burn out against the damp pavement.
"Have a nice day." Victor growled, and with that he hit the gas so hard that the engine gave an enormous whine, leaving John standing in the middle of the parking lot in a state of shock, realizing once again just how much danger he was in by fraternizing with Sherlock Holmes. But was it worth it? Oh yes, it was worth every second.
"Well who do we have here? Looking all beautiful, standing next to his locker and getting his English book. Stunning, absolutely..."
"What are you doing?" Sherlock growled, turning to face John where he stood against the lockers. Sherlock looked very tired, his eye lids were very droopy and he looked a little bit paler than usual, as if something dire had happened over the weekend, something that disrupted his sleep schedule.
"What am I doing? Well I'm commentating, obviously." John murmured, smiling at Sherlock with all the jovial happiness in the world. Sherlock's face continued to frown.
"Can you commentate somewhere else, please?" Sherlock suggested, slamming his locker shut yet not leaving, he looked as if he actually did want to talk to John; he just didn't want John to know.
"Well it's no fun really, without you. Besides, who else can look so gorgeous while doing mundane tasks?" John insisted with a sigh.
"Everyone, John, everyone." Sherlock decided.
"Oh you're too humble." John laughed, following Sherlock as he at last tried to make his escape.
"What class are you in now?" John wondered.
"None of your business." Sherlock snapped.
"It's English isn't it? You know what I have to admit, I cheated a little bit because I saw your English book and..."
"John shut up! Please for God's sakes just be quiet." Sherlock begged, maybe just a little bit louder than he had anticipated. For a moment everyone's eyes were on them once more, and in an instant everyone began to erupt into whispers. Evidently they were talking about John's love confession, discussing how it evidently wasn't working out very well. John frowned, taking the hint, and kept walking.
"John this isn't a joke anymore, it's not." Sherlock insisted in all seriousness.
"I know. Victor showed me the gun." John agreed gravely.
"He keeps telling me about when he's going to kill you, John this is all just because he's suspicious of you, I've kept his suspicions at bay for now, but the moment he finds any proof that we might be interacting he'll kill you. He's looking forward to it." Sherlock warned.
"Ya, I know. I know." John sighed. "But that's just all the more reason we need to get him out of the picture. When are you going to break up with him?"
"Do you really think I can do that now? Now that he's got a gun on him? I know that he loves me but the minute he doesn't feel loved in return he will shoot me. He won't hesitate." Sherlock muttered.
"And so you're in just as much danger as I am." John agreed.
"So long as I give him what he wants I'm safe." Sherlock muttered.
"And what does he want from you?" John wondered, knowing the answer full well just clarifying. Sherlock sighed heavily, going a little bit red as he dropped his head shamefully.
"I think you know." Sherlock murmured.
"Terrible, that's absolutely disgusting. You shouldn't be submitting to that Sherlock, that's just...it's not love." John determined flatly.
"Yes but what choice do I have?" Sherlock breathed hopelessly.
"You have me, you have us." John pointed out, answering Sherlock's rhetoric question without any hesitation. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head as if John seriously misunderstood what he meant. Surely a relationship with John wasn't going to save the day.
"You're the catalyst for all of this John, you're the reason for all of this drama." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yes I know." John agreed. "But without me you might be going on year three of being happy Mr. Trevor, and you don't want that, I know you don't. You needed a disturbance, something to wake you up from whatever trance he put you in."
"You think that this is all about you, don't you? You think you're so special, so bloody revolutionary. Do you really think that everyone's worlds just started to spin when you walked in?" Sherlock growled.
"No of course not, it was you that got my world spinning again. It was too long, Sherlock, eight years was agonizing for us both and now we're old enough to realize that love can wait, no matter how excruciating the separation was it's time for us to be together once more." John muttered with a loving smile. Sherlock mumbled something that John couldn't understand, however his sudden disaperence told John that he had probably said something about having to go to class, because in a moment he had vanished into one of the English classes. This left John alone in the hallway to think on his solitude for a moment before starting back down the now emptying hallway, meandering his way to his classroom without much thought as to where he was going or why he was going. He just thought about Sherlock, he saw the boy in his eyes, and this wonderful tactic led him to walk into the doorframe of his classroom door. It was worth it, of course. It was all worth it just to have that boy anywhere in close proximity. 

Sherlock POV: Sherlock wasn't waiting for John at his locker; he was simply...putting his books away. For five minutes. That idiot, he was usually here by now, what was taking him so long? It was getting harder and harder to look bored and unoccupied as the time ticked on, surely if anyone saw him just pushing things around his locker for so long they would know that he was waiting for something, or someone. And yet Sherlock wanted to make it look indiscreet, because of course he wanted John to come and beg him to stay in Mrs. Hudson's classroom with him, of course he wanted to spend time with that boy and yet the last thing he needed was John knowing of his appreciation. That was one of the things that made their relationship beautiful, the stubbornness of it all. John was stubborn as he thought that nothing could stand in the way of his getting to Sherlock, not even Victor now that he was armed and dangerous. And Sherlock, well he was stubborn in his love for Victor, or whatever fragments of that love that still remained. He was foolish in the way that he was still holding on, clinging to whatever iotas of feeling she had for that boy, whatever excuses he was still trying to make for his abuse. No but it was time, he could feel it now, it was most certainly time. Victor was going mad, oh he could see it in the once brilliant blues of his eyes, he could see the anger and the paranoia that was building up, for Victor knew that something was amiss; he could feel it most certainly. He had known of John's love before Sherlock had, and if he knew of that then he could certainly smell the love that Sherlock had for John, he could probably taste the treachery on Sherlock's lips, he was preparing for war for he knew as well as anyone that it was coming. It was a tense moment for all of them, for they were now standing in the eye of the hurricane, unsure whether to run into the strong winds or try to meander about in the quiet until the storm overtook them. Sherlock was certainly willing to stay put, however his two lovers were prepared to fight, to meet each other in the field of battle and make the lesser man bleed. He was the damsel in this situation, and if all went well no harm would come to him, at least as long as Victor kept his head. Sherlock's biggest fear was Victor's success in the battle that was soon to come, for it was eminent. He knew that if John would go down then Victor would see Sherlock not as just a boyfriend anymore, but as a prize. He would seem him as something fought and won, and along with his victory would come an even more materialistic view on what should be love. And of course if Victor really did kill John then he would go to jail, and yet that was at the moment one of Sherlock's lesser concerns. Victor's incarceration would do well for this world, however if Sherlock found himself with one of his lovers imprisoned for the murder of the other, well he would be alone once more and all this quarreling would be for nothing. He would wither and waste away, unutilized and abandoned, for his brain was too expensive and his heart was all worn out.