Weee, hello there :) It's been awhile (again) and I've not been posting much lately, mostly due to the lack of inspiration ._. but I'm hoping to bounce back from writer's block and have a new story up when I can! In the meantime, I got the sudden urge to write teen!lock, and this might now be as good as my other ones, but I hope it's an enjoyable read nonetheless :DDD
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Happy birthday, mate," John said merrily, clapping his friend on the shoulder when he met him in the hallway. It was his best mate's birthday, and eventhough he knew Sherlock to not be enthusiastic about birthdays – nonetheless his own – he thought that maybe this year he would change his mind; after all, who didn't like getting attention on their birthday? Sherlock was definitely one for attention; it was apparent.
"Yes, yes, sure," Sherlock brushed his hand off almost immediately after it came into contact with his shirt. Well, that was unsurprising, to say the least.
Still, John took the chance and called him out on his behaviour. "Hey, why so grumpy?"
"Do you know how many people have coined that phrase 'happy birthday' to me?" Sherlock spat out, whirling around to face the blond.
Raising an eyebrow, he answered, "A lot of many people? So what if our classmates know when's your birthday-"
"I'll rephrase my question - do you know how many girls gave me things as a 'birthday present?"
"So you have your own fangirl club - why are you surprised?"
"I have a what?"
John stared at him agape, trying hard not to let out a bark of laughter at the blank and disbelieving face staring back at him. "You didn't know you had a-"
Sherlock glowered in return. "Do I look like I even care?"
John abruptly cleared his throat, swallowing down the laughter. "No. You don't look the part, no."
As they both walked down the hallway towards the next class of the day, the shorter teen of the two spoke up, breaking the slightly tensed silence. "You don't sound happy either, at getting gifts from girls. Oddly enough, they seem to find you fascinating."
Sherlock kept his eyes fixed in front of him as he seethed, "I have neither the time nor effort to entertain such measly stuff. I told them to keep their gifts, and I would have won if not for Greg and- and ANDERSON," John looked up to smirk at the intense hatred put into that name alone, "having passed us by and convincing the girls to hand over the gifts to them instead for 'safekeeping purposes' - as ANDERSON puts it."
"So you're upset that you didn't bring home any of those gifts?"
"Did you not hear me? I never wanted those gifts, but Greg and ANDERSON are holding on to my gifts. Whether I wanted them or not, they're, by default, still mine, aren't they?"
John rolled his eyes at his friend getting mad over something as childish as that. "Well, even if you've taken the birthday presents, you wouldn't want them anyway; knowing you, you'd either chuck them into the nearest trash can or use them for one of those bizarre experiment of yours. Might as well let Greg and Anderson take them and not make them a waste."
"I would not be too bothered by Greg, but ANDERSON."
John chuckled at the hard edge that accompanied the name.
Sherlock seemed to contemplate something after he said that, and his voice was calmer when he continued, "At least that imbecile did not have her present."
Both males rounded the corner and stopped in front of their classroom as John wondered out loud, "'Her' present?"
"Nothing," Sherlock quickly dismissed the question and strode into the room, leaving the blond to wonder at his cryptic comment; shaking his head, the latter decided to just leave it be and entered the class.
After taking his place beside his class partner Gregory Lestrade, John turned in his seat to face him and, having noticed the silver-haired boy's chocolate bonbon wedged between his forefinger and thumb, pointed a finger at it. "Definitely not yours, yes?"
Greg frowned at him. "What makes you think so?"
"Not to be obviously obvious, but that box of chocolates without its cover - the one next to your pencil box - well, I don't remember your initials being 'S.H.'."
"Oh great," the other boy muttered sarcastically as he popped the chocolate into his mouth, "as if one Holmes ain't enough."
"Having fun consuming my chocolates?"
Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear - Greg glanced upwards to the face of Sherlock Holmes, the latter's expression being one of disgust and resent. "Oh yes - very much enjoying it," the seated teen sniggered, wiping his chocolate-smeared fingers on a clean piece of tissue paper.
Sending a glare his way before turning to John, Sherlock extended a pale hand. "My homework. I don't recall you returning it to me yesterday."
As John swiftly apologised, Greg stared at the black-haired teen. "But you don't lend homework to me - why only to John?"
Pursing his lips, the blond explained to him while handing the pieces of paper back to its rightful owner. "Because I agreed to become his victim for a-"
"Variable, John. And thank you."
"-victim for a harebrained 'experiment' of his," John Watson continued as if he had not heard Sherlock 'correcting' him, as the latter went back to his seat. "I'm lucky to not have been poisoned or anything."
As John reiterated the events that happened during said 'experiment' to Greg, he caught the form of Molly Hooper - one of the quietest girls in class, but has a brain that rivalled Sherlock Holmes' - just entering the classroom at the corner of his eyes. Whilst the other teen tried to make sense of the events that was told to him in his head, John took the opportunity to watch the scene unfold before him.
He noticed tiny spots of pink on the girl's cheeks as she took her seat beside - well, who else - Sherlock Holmes. Despite being seated two tables behind the pair, he could still see what was happening in front of him clearly.
He saw Molly turning in her seat to face Sherlock, her head bowed down as her lips moved (he could not tell what she was saying, and since it was Molly, he assumed she was whispering as well), with the male teen beside her looking forward, not once glancing her direction. But being a friend of a Holmes had taught John lots of things, and one of the things in question was body language.
Sherlock was definitely paying attention to whatever Molly was saying - he was sure of it - if his unnatural straight-as-a-rod back and the fact he was leaning just a bit to the right (where she was seating) were any indications to go by.
The subject teacher finally came round the classroom a minute or two later, forcing the few straying kids in the class to return to their seats as lessons began. While John dug in his bag for his textbook, from his vantage point he caught a glimpse of Molly hastily handing a small blue-packaged box to Sherlock, who finally looked at her with a neutral expression and, after that, gave a nod of the head as he pocketed the gift - presumably one to show her that he acknowledged it, for the blond did not see his lips move even once. John would have sighed at how ignorant Sherlock was, but as the time passed, and having seen the teen, for more than once, putting his hand into the same pocket as the small gift and pulling it out just a tiny little bit to have a firm grasp on it, he decided that maybe, just maybe, the curly head teen really did like celebrating his birthday - especially when a birthday gift came from someone…close to him.