Freak (Sherlock x reader high school AU)

Nine: Truth or Dare (Part 2)

Everyone turns to Sherlock, who is flinched back, bracing himself for the impact of a blow that is just above his stomach. But those small words he uttered keeps it from landing. More uncontrollable laughter suffocates him.

He tries to stand, figuring they've had their fun now, but Thomas's heavy hand on his shoulder pulls him back to the ground.

"If I were you, I would've just taken the beating. Becasue you're never going to live this one down" Thomas whispers harshly, ruffling his hands through Sherlock's hair with a satisfied smirk.

As if to demonstrate the power he holds over him, Thomas tips his cola can over and let's the contents spill onto the front of Sherlock's trousers. He looks Sherlock dead in the eyes, daring him to say anything.

Sherlock can feel the words forming, a clever retort that would wipe the smile off Thomas's face. But tonight has been bad enough, and knowing Thomas and his mates, they'd easily find a way to make it worse. So he holds his tongue, hating the feeling of powerlessness that flows through him.

Thomas sighs happily and claps Sherlock roughly on the back once more, "Good boy Freak" he taunts before turning to everyone else, "For Christ's sake, Sherlock's had an accident on your floor! Sorry (y/n)" Thomas pants between breaths of laughter, as if this is the most hilarious thing in the world.

Sherlock takes this moment to stand quickly to his feet.

He doesn't look at you. He can't, unsure of what he'll find in your eyes. Embarrassment, pity, disappointment...you were right to want to make other friends. He's just the school freak. It's not good for you to be associated with him.

Every part of him moves stiffly as he walks out of the room, eyes trained dead ahead, which is probably why he misses it, Liam sticking out his foot just as Sherlock approaches. Next thing he knows, he's fallen flat on the ground, landing on top of half drunk colas and sticky sweets.

There's that laughter once more. The laughter that makes his heart sink and stomach ache, the laughter that plays over and over again in his mind, keeping him awake at night because he knows he will hear it again the next day and the next.

He slowly makes his way to his feet, careful not to trip again and humiliate himself further, if that's even possible.

You don't know why you do what you do next. Maybe it's guilt, the guilt of knowing that this is your fault for ever trying to be friends with these people in the first place, for trying to befriend the same people that find fun in humiliating your only real friend. Maybe it's because you've missed Sherlock terribly and you know he would do anything in the world to help you, anything at all. Or maybe you're just fed up with Thomas.

"He's lying" the words have left your mouth before you can even think about it, "He's lying. He's not a virgin. He's just...trying to protect me"

The lie comes effortlessly. You'd believe it yourself if you didn't know it was false. Maybe it's your care for him that makes it so easy for the words to roll off your tongue. Either way, everyone is speechless, and Sherlock is frozen in the doorway.

"You got with freak?" Eliza asks in disbelief.

"Yes," you say, standing to your feet and facing the the doorway. You grab his shoulders and turn him around so he's facing you. For the first time all night, his eyes meet yours. Those wide round eyes, saying so much in one look. They're brimmed with tears you know he'd sooner die than let fall, but it pangs at your heart all the same. You let your fingers run lightly through his dark curls, and can't help but smile at your best friend.

In an easy motion, you do what you've seen people do in movies so many times. You cup his face in your hands, tilt your head to the side, and kiss him. You count to three in your head then step back.

For the millionth time tonight, the room is cloaked in silence. But this time it's the good kind, the kind you feel comfortable in, that could stay forever and you wouldn't mind. As if the only two people in the world are you and him.

"And his name isn't freak" you say, turning to the crowd of disbelieving faces, "It's Sherlock fucking Holmes"