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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

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Highway To Hell

Series Summary: An all-too-real nightmare and a missing brother sends Dean, Bobby, and Cas on a frantic search. All the while, what may be a bad dream leads to a probable jump-start to Dean's true worst nightmare, Sam jump-starting the end of the world. Set in season 4; consider this a parallel canonverse fic

Previous chapter, Masterlist

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Please note that I am not racist in any way, as I believe in equality for all. I apologize in advance if anyone is offended by anything that is written. Feedback is always appreciated, so please let me know if it unnecessary for the story.

Once the foggy mixture settles, they see that the scenery around them has changed. They are no longer at the small park, instead they face a long, bare corridor. It is painted with bright hues of white, light grey, and lights from an unknown source. The lights somehow make the pale colors increasingly brighter, but tolerable. Lining the hallway is a multitude of doors, each one inscribed with at least one name and two dates.

"So.. this is heaven?" Dean asks.

"Yes." Gadreel says, hurrying the hunters along wordlessly. "We need to hurry, we probably don't have much time before-"

Suddenly an angel appears straight in their path, then another, and another.

"Going somewhere brother?" The angel in front asks, assuming battle stance.

"Please, we do not ask for trouble." Gadreel concedes, raising his hands defensively.

"I assume you do, bringing these filthy humans here." The angel says.

"Wow, rude." Dean says.

"Who are you? I do not recognize you." The angel says, dismissing Dean's comment.

"Never mind that right now, there seem to be more pressing things at stake." Gadreel says.

"The only thing here that is pressing, is you." The angel says.

"I beg to differ." Bobby adds.

"No one asked you, mortal. Silence." One of the other angels says.

Bobby deadpans but remains quiet for the sake of moving past the angel barricade.

"Where is our Father? I must see him immediately." Gadreel says.

"Haven't you been paying attention? He is long gone. He doesn't care for us anymore." The angel in front says.

"That is not true, he never left." Gadreel says.

"Not to crash your little parade, but he has. But not to worry, because someone else has stepped in." The angel says.

"Well that explains everything." Dean mutters.

"That may be so, but there's still something wrong. I need to see our Father, now." Gadreel says.

"Something wrong? Brother, everything is right! The savior who has stepped in, promises to fulfill all the things our Father never did." One of the other angels says.

"I wouldn't be too sure." Dean says.

"What would you know? You impotent little gnat." The other angel says.

"We cracked open your buddy's brain here, and know some things you may not know. If you don't believe me, by all means, crack it open yourself. Of course, if you can. We're not here to destroy your sanctuary or whatever." Dean says.

"As if." Another angel says.

"You don't need Him, we don't need Him. We can show you something better. Come, my brother, abandon these apes and join us." The other angel says, extending a hand.

"Only if you allow them-" Gadreel gestures to Dean and Bobby "-to come with me. I can assure you, that they mean no harm unless if provoked to do so." He says.

"As it is, humans are not permitted on the premises unless if they have moved onto their personal heavens." The angel says.

"He might be asking, but we aren't." Dean says, sliding out his angel blade.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A voice says from around the corner.

A short, stocky man emerges from an adjacent hallway, empty handed and unreadable. Despite his thinning hair, his head appears full, like a cheap, stale knockoff of Will Ferrell. Unlike the angels, he wears a soft brown cardigan on top of a pale blue dress shirt. As he enters the scene unfolding, all eyes are drawn to his existence.

"Sir, I am so sorry we have disturbed you." The angel in front apologizes frantically. "We didn't mean to distract you from your work, we were just escorting everyone to their proper places."

"Nonsense, there will be no need. These two hunters will be a perfect addition to my plans, they may enter." The man says as he places a hand on the angel's shoulder. "As for Gadreel over there.."

With a flick of his hand, Gadreel completely disappears into thin air. The room stills momentarily with tension. Dean grips tightly onto the hilt of his blade, preparing for a fight.

"You two can follow me, the rest of you, disperse to your previous positions. I can take it from here." The man says.

Gadreel holds his aching head as he forces himself off of the Earth. The world spins viciously around him as he tries to gather the scene in front of him. The friendly demon from before had been thrown onto the ground as if she were the filth she was supposed to be. Gadreel had begun to grow an affinity for her; a shame she had to waste away. Just like he likely would be about to.

He stiffens at the sound of his siblings approaching behind him.

"We have been waiting for you, brother."

The man leads Dean and Bobby into a dark, empty, brick-walled room. He stands in front of one of the walls while the two hunters stand rigidly a few feet away from him.

"Dean Winchester. The least likely person I'd expect to come charging in here. Without his lumbering sidekick as well." The man says.

"Let's cut the monologue crap, okay? We're not here for small talk." Dean says.

The man sighs exasperatedly "You never were the sharing and caring type."

"Where is God?" Dean asks.

"That is a good question. One I have been wondering for many years." The man says.

"I'm not here to play your games." Dean says.

"And I'm not playing any." The man says. "If I wanted to play games, you would be running around like headless chickens right about now."

"You don't think that's what we've been doing this whole time?" Bobby asks, his voice rising with anger.

"I mean, I haven't been watching you, so I really don't know nor care. Do you really think I'm stepping up God's plans for you?" The man says with a chuckle.

"And what is 'stepping up' supposed to mean?" Dean asks.

"I was just about to explain. Sit." The man says.

As if they have a choice, Dean and Bobby are suddenly frozen into place by an invisible force once again.

"And I also want these traitors to be reminded of what their 'precious beings' have done to our Father's wondrous creation." The man says, slightly louder.

Metal bars ascend from the floor as if it were a liquid, until a row of cells fills an empty wall. Inside each are dozens of angels, most of them familiar from months before. In the dead center, Castiel. Dean and Bobby instantly lock eyes with him.

"And what about all of the terrible things we have done to our Father's creations?" Castiel asks.

"Ours had purposes, righteous purposes." The man says.

"You call this righteous?" Hannah asks.

"When you will see the final result, maybe you'll change your mind. Well, you probably won't see it anyway." The man says.

The man turns back to face Dean and Bobby, ignoring the angels glaring at his backside. With the wave of his hand, the scenery around them changes to a leafy landscape. A nude couple wanders aimlessly through the shrubbery until multiple disembodied whispers stop them in their tracks.

"Eat the forbidden fruit."

Snakes slither out from behind a tree in front of them, and swarm the couple, who seem unalarmed. The woman glances at her significant other before picking a gleaming apple from the tree. She takes a large bite to satisfy her famished mind; she soaks it in wordlessly. Her significant other gently takes the apple from her grasp and takes a bite without hesitation.

"Adam and Eve?" Bobby asks.

"The first original sin." The man in the cardigan states.

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean deadpans.

"You were doomed and flawed from the start. You gave into temptation, even though you were specifically ordered not to do so." The man says.

"But you know what's different?" Castiel asks, standing up from his cell bench. "Humans are brave enough to question and venture. You, and your followers, are bound; sheep."

"No, Castiel. If humans were smart enough, they would realize that orders are meant to be followed for a reason." The man says.

"They are a growing species, they learn from evolution. That's the power of free will, which is what our Father wanted for them. You and your kind don't learn, as we always go through the same battles and consequences. You are stagnant." Inias says.

"Unlike the others, Inias, I have learned. This time, for a fact, I know exactly what needs to be done and how my plans will not be foiled." The man says with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, we'll see about that." Bobby says.

"I'm not wishing you any luck to try and stop me, it's not like you'll need it anyway. Anyway, back to your worst hits tour." The man says.

The scene around them warps to a dry cotton field, filled with laboring slaves. Their heavy clothing is dripping with sweat as they continuously pick seed after seed. Luring over them are numerous white men dressed in higher class dress shirts and overalls. Each of them hold a long whip.

"The American civil war. The war that literally tore a country in half. Mind you, this is one of many throughout the globe. You turned on your own species, segregated yourselves because you were 'different'. Seeing the scene itself, do I need to mention more?" The stocky man says, gesturing behind him.

The crack of a whip hitting flesh quickly grabs Bobby and Dean's attention. One of the slaves is bent over in excruciating pain as an overseer stands over him expectantly.

"Don't make me say it again, you piece of garbage. No breaks. Get your ass moving!" The overseer says.

The scene switches to a dimly lit underground coal mine. In the small confined area are groups of working miners, covered in coal and dirt fragments. Moving beams of light project from each of their hard hats as they work.

"Global Warming and the destruction of our Father's creations, plural." The man says.

The scene shifts again, this time to the gates before Auschwitz I.

"More death and segregation of your own kind."

They transport to a bloodied battlefield across a desecrated Iraqi city.

"War, more death, segregation."

The man snaps his fingers and they are all instantly back in the dark brick room they had started in. The room is silent with no change in attitude.

"Must I say more?" He says, clasping his hands together.

"Oh please, go on." Dean says sarcastically.

The man chuckles. "You know, I kind of like you. It's a shame you don't see what we see."

"Oh I see it, I see all of it. I see all of the crap our species has done and still does, but it doesn't mean you're any better than us." Dean says.

"Oh, I believe it does. We are God's chosen." The man says.

"The way you locked up your own kind over here? It's the same thing we did and still do. So you're wrong, sorry to tell you." Bobby says.

"I see what you're getting at, but you're actually wrong. God's chosen cannot be flawed, they must be ideal. These runts are, what they are." The man says. "I'm not really sure why I'm arguing with you, it's pointless. Although at least you have some more hindsight."

The man silently disappears momentarily and returns with an unconscious Sam in his stubby arms. He grunts and tosses his limp body to the floor.

"What the hell?!" Bobby exclaims, trying with all of his might to move his frozen body.

"Don't you dare, make another move on him you son of a bitch." Dean growls.

"Oh, don't worry, he doesn't feel a thing anyway. He won't and neither will you once I'm done."

"If you so lay a hand on them, I will make sure you will never walk again." Castiel says, gripping his cell bars tightly.

"A threat you will never deliver, because it will be the same for you and your pack." The man says.

"Like we won't put up a fight?" Another angel says.

"You won't even have the chance." The man says. "Now to initiate phase two."

He closes his eyes and concentrates for a brief moment before expectantly opening them again. He furrows his brows at his audience in front of him.

"Oh, that's right. You terrestrial monkeys can't hear a thing that's going on. Let me amp up the volume." The man says.

Suddenly the room is filled with a mixture of sounds signifying agonizing pain, causing Dean and Bobby to feel sick to their stomachs. They look up to the angels to see their faces had been painted in horror and shock. Several embrace one another while others frantically try to find a way out of the containment cells.

"Our Father had a plan, you monster!" Hannah says, human tears filling to the brim.

"As if. If he did, the world wouldn't be the way it was." The man says, turning to the three hunters, who had just crumpled to the floor in excruciating pain. "What you and your entire species is feeling right now, is all of the effects you did to the Earth, just sped up a bit. I also added a little extra special something for you three, since you only make the planet ten times worse, just by existing."

Dean and Bobby clutch their throats as the room boils and depletes of oxygen. As they grasp for whatever life is remaining, they turn to each other and then to Sam. Despite being completely unconscious, Sam is writhing and choking on the same air Dean and Bobby are breathing. They both uselessly try to move to Sam, but are still restrained by an invisible grip. Dean whines audibly as he struggles. The man chuckles before turning back to the caged angels.

"Who's better now?" He asks.

Suddenly the room violently shakes and becomes unbearably bright. Dean and Bobby cover their ears as a high pitched ringing slowly increases in volume. The angels and the short man widen their eyes as they stare straight into the source of the light. As everything in the room returns back to its original state, Bobby and Dean open their eyes.

"...Chuck?"

"Metatron, we need to talk."

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sherlockmormorrp · 4 years

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You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say STAND WITH HONG KONG AGAINST THE CCP!

You both like teenlock, and johnlock.

Stranger: Practice had run a bit late, which may or may not have been deliberate, considering it meant John would bump into his chemistry teacher on his way through the school car park. It was just starting to get dark and just starting to rain, the rugby captain still wandering around in his rugby shorts smeared with mud, bag slung over his shoulder, when he finally locked up the sports shed and spotted Mr Holmes heading to his car. Mr Holmes, who was breathtakingly brilliant and clever and gorgeous and yeah, okay, he wasn't the only one with a crush on the teacher, but he sure was the only one who actually got on with him alright too. The man had little patience for careless, indignant students, but when it came to John he was a little bit friendlier, a little bit smilier. Or maybe that was John's imagination. Maybe the latter. Still, that didn't stop John from grinning and giving a wave as their paths crossed. "Well hey, sir. You're here late. Running another experiment in the lab?" John smirked.

You: (reading)

You: Sherlock looked up as he heard one of his favorite students approach him. John was right, he had just finished up his experiment, access to the chemistry lab was one of the main reasons he still taught. He could get incredibly frustrated with his students even for teaching the AP chemistry course they could still be rather dim. John, however, actually tried in class even if he got the equations wrong Sherlock could see he was trying and appreciated that. He eyed the other before he checked his wristwatch, "John? Why on earth are you here so late?" he asked, "I'm fairly certain practice ends sooner than this?" he asked. (Is this highschool or Uni?)

Stranger: [I'm thinking high school! John's 18] The student gave a little shrug, checking his own watch. Oops, yeah. It /was/ a bit of a late one today. But still, they had a real match coming up soon, it was normal for practices to run a little over so close to season. "Yeah, guess we lost track of time," John chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his damp neck. "I help coach pack things up at the end of practice anyway, and some of the lads are a bit sloppy so we worked them over time tonight. They needed it. But don't worry, I promise I won't be too knackered for class tomorrow." He flashed Sherlock another smile.

You: Sherlock nodded, John was very fit from rugby. He was a clear athlete in his build but yet wasn't a complete jar head, he took his studies seriously and Sherlock admired that. "Oh-" he frowned as it started to rain, he used his briefcase to cover his head. "How are you getting home, John?" he asked, concerned for the boys wellbeing in the rain and this time of day. (sounds good to me)

Stranger: It was incredibly sweet, the concern in Sherlock's tone then. Though surely he'd be concerned for any of his students wandering around this time of night. John tried not to let it get to his head, as he shrugged. "I was just gonna walk. It's not that far, really," he assured him, seemingly unfazed as the rain started to come down. In all fairness he probably would've caught the bus, but he'd missed the last one, running practice so late... but oh well. "Spot of rain never hurt!"

You: Sherlock frowned in concern. "Are you sure? I can give you a ride home." he offered, "I insist really. I'm not letting you walk in this rain at this time of night. " he unlocked his car. "You can put your bag in the trunk." he told, not giving John the option of saying no. He couldn't in good faith let John walk home, it was dangerous. Sherlock hurried into the drivers seat to get out of the rain, he started his car and waited for the boy to get in.

Stranger: It... was an incredibly kind gesture, but John wasn't sure it was such a good idea, agreeing to be in a confined space with Mr Holmes. Not that it really mattered, of course, nothing would happen other than maybe John making a fool out of himself. He hesitated for a moment, but Sherlock really wasn't giving him an inch to protest, so he gave in and put his bag in the back seat, grabbing his jersey out of it. "I'm real, real sorry if I get dirt all through your car, sir," John said hesitantly, placing the relatively clean jersey on the seat before he got in and sat down, careful not to shed mud everywhere. "Thanks for this though, if you're really sure. I don't mean to be a bother, and it's really not that far."

You: Sherlock chuckled, John was very polite, not like most of the rude students he had. "You're fine, John. I can't let anything happen to my favorite student now can I ?" he shot him a smile before he headed out of the parking lot. "Just direct me to your home." he told. He turned to look at him, "Your mother and father don't pick you up after practice?" he asked, "Especially when it's this late?"

Stranger: Favourite student? John's face lit up at that, even if he was sure Sherlock was mostly teasing. Surely his favourite student would be someone clever and passionate and witty like he was, not plain old John who tried his damn best but still wasn't anything exceptional. "Hell, I'll try not to let that get to my head, Mr Holmes, but no promises," he chuckled, before navigating the way for his teacher. It was still roughly a fifteen minute drive, and John was gonna make sure to make the most of it. He hesitated when Sherlock asked about his parents, looking down at his hands before shrugging. "Oh, you know. Dad's busy working late, and Mum's not too well at the moment," he replied, keeping it vague.

You: Sherlock nodded, noticing the change in the boys body language at the mention of his parents. "I'm sorry to hear that." he muttered softly. "Well, if you're at school this late again you come to my the lab. You'll most likely find me there at all hours. It isn't exactly safe for you to be walking so far this late." he turned to look at him briefly while at a stoplight. "You certainly look like you can handle yourself, but no need in putting yourself in danger." John had a short stature but he was very muscular thanks to rugby and could definitely hold his own in a fight, but why subject himself to unneccisary danger. "I can give you a ride home if needed." he assured him.

Stranger: John couldn't help but smile at the offer, genuinely touched by the concern and generosity. Shit, it wasn't often someone went out of their way for him. And for it to come from Mr Holmes, was... well, really lovely. "Thank you, sir," he said genuinely, entirely grateful. "I wouldn't want to be a bother, especially if it's a bit of a detour for you, but I do really appreciate it." He found himself looking up at the teacher warmly for a little too long and finally glanced away, ears pink. "Some of the other kids say some awful things about you, Mr Holmes, but you're the best teacher - the best man, I think - that I've ever known."

You: Sherlock chuckled at John's statement, "I'm sure most of what the kids say about me is true." he chuckled. "I am not the easiest teacher. I actually expect my students to learn and apply themselves. Unfortunately that isn't instituted with the rest of the teachers." he said with an eye roll. "But thank you, John. Really it's just a ride home." he couldn't help but smile though, it was sweet of John to say. He was at least glad that one of his students didn't completely hate him.

Stranger: Right. Yeah. Of course. Just a ride home. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. But even still, it was more than anything anyone had done for him in a while, and it was really, really nice. So John just shrugged and smiled, looking out the window at the rainy street sliding past. "I still really appreciate it. And I think that's part of what makes you so good as a teacher. You don't put up with slack. You push us to do our best. And I know mine's average at best, but you still get me trying my hardest, and I'm grateful for it," he murmured, glancing back over to the elder. "And yeah, you can be a bit of a prat sometimes too but that's half the fun," he teased.

You: Mr. Holmes grinned at John calling him a prat. "You are very clever, John." he praised. "You are far beyond average." he assured him, "And what you lack in your arithmetic you make up for with your persistence. Chemistry does not come easily at all and it's very easy to get flustered and quit. But you don't. You come to me with questions, you're engaged during class and you come to tutoring. That means a lot more to a teacher than the actual grade you may get on tests." he let out a soft sigh. "I know I am a strict teacher but I don't think many students realize that if I see an effort that a student is trying I will bump their grade to reflect that effort. "

Stranger: The praise meant a lot to John, coming from Mr Holmes. He couldn't quite will away the blush that rose in his cheeks and the tips of his ears as the teacher reassured him that he wasn't quite as much of a dunce as he often felt, and he smiled up at Sherlock for a moment. "Well, I'm glad you can see when someone's trying. Though hell, I'd hate to see what my grades would look like if I /wasn't/ putting so much effort into it," he laughed lightly. Not that his grades were bad to begin with, but still. "So all it takes to be your favourite is to try hard and be engaged, huh? Here I was thinking it might've been my charming smile or something."

You: Sherlock looked over to John and immediantly noticed the other was glowing pink with embarssement, he smiled softly to himself finding it very..adorable really. He chuckled at John's statement, only pausing for a moment to access what he said. That statement was awfully... flirty, coming from anyone else mouth of course. John was certainly not flirting with his teacher. That wouldn't be appropriate at all. He hesitated before he spoke, "It doesn't hurt.." he hummed, flashing a smile to the other that was all teeth. "It's just nice to know that there are still students who give a damn." he hummed.

Stranger: The hesitation didn't go amiss, and yeah maybe that had been a little flirtier than John should have allowed, but hell, Sherlock's response almost could've been considered flirty too. Had it come from anyone else, of course. Mr Holmes wasn't the sort of man to flirt with his students, and John needed to remember that. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle at the reply and the toothy grin, quietly delighted. "Of course there are. You make it pretty easy to get invested and interested," John smiled, hoping that wasn't too much of a double entendre.

You: Sherlock rose an eyebrow, "I do?" he asked, "I didn't think my lectures were that enticing.." he frowned as he realized they were getting closer to John's home. Was it sad that this was the most social interaction he had for months? Outside of teaching Sherlock didn't talk to anyone, and he wasn't exactly talking with his students more so at them. He enjoyed John's company, he was clever and very mature.

Stranger: "Are you kidding? Your lectures are easily the best," John assured, honestly surprised that Sherlock didn't realise quite how captivating he was with this content. "No other teacher gets quite as passionate and knows quite as much about their subject as you. You're definitely the easiest to listen to and engage with. Like when you started off about cations and anions and their reactions, that was incredible. It can sometimes be a little hard to keep up with you because your head just runs at a lightning pace, but it's amazing to listen to," John grinned, trying very hard not to be too disappointed by the fact that they were only a few blocks away from his house.

You: Sherlock felt ridicoulous because now he was the one blushing. No one had ever said such nice things to him before. Most found him annoying and pompous for knowing so much about Chemistry. He was happy that John recognized his passion for the subject. He turned to face him, heart warm by his words. "I..Thank you John. That..really means a lot" he admitted. He parked outside of the other's home, a little sad their conversation had to end. "Well.." he muttered to himself. "Don't forget your homework due tomorrow.." he muttered a bit lamely, he didn't know what else to say.

Stranger: The colour in Sherlock's cheeks was far prettier than it had any right to be, and John got a little lost looking up at him for a second there. His stupid, hormonal, teenage brain teased him with the thought of maybe leaning in to... hell, maybe even just kiss him on the cheek. But that was so ridiculously inappropriate and wrong and he quickly shoved that thought aside, heart fluttering. "I won't," he nodded gently, looking up at his house. No, he wasn't looking forward to going home. If only he lived on the other side of town, so they could just keep talking and... well. No, best he get a move on. "Thanks again, Mr Holmes, I really do appreciate it. You're very kind." He opened the door a fraction, and turned back to give Sherlock a warm smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You: Sherlock noticed the hesitation, he frowned a little in worry. He hoped John's home life was alright, he seemed tense at the topic of his parents and the younger man didn't seem to want to leave the car. He nodded and smiled back, "See you tomorrow, John. Don't forget your bag." he reminded.

Stranger: Right, yes, he'd better get a move on before Sherlock started deducing things at home. He stepped out into the rain, and leaned down to look back in the car long enough to smile and say, "have a good night, Mr Holmes. Thanks again." And then he closed the door, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and started up towards his gate. He turned to give Sherlock another wave, before heading up and inside, feeling warm in his chest, smile stuck on his lips.

You: Sherlock didn't leave until he saw John safely enter his home. He ran a hand through his curls and let out a deep breath. John Watson was a very charming boy, but he was exactly that-a boy. A student. Sherlock really sort of overstepped by offering to take him home but that was in good faith. The thoughts he was currently having about the blonde were not so good-willed. He cleared them from his head quickly, the inappropriate thoughts anyways. John was not flirting with him. He was his teacher and John was simply a good student who cared deeply for academics. He made it to his home and entered his lonely apartment and began grading tests.

Stranger: The warm feeling managed to last a little while, at least. He managed to get in, have a shower, and get dinner started before his father got home and the bickering started. Between Dad and Harry constantly arguing and Mum with her anxiety and headaches keeping her in her room most of the day, it was... well, not ideal. But he managed. Ever the caretaker, ever the mediator, he made his family dinner and managed to pry Harry away from stirring their father up even more and managed to miss a second clip around the ears, and so it was fine. It was a fine night. Because he got to go to bed thinking of that blush on Sherlock's cheeks and his damp curls and that silly, toothy grin. When the next morning rolled round, he got to school early, having pushed himself and his sister out the door before their father had a chance to wake up. He wandered into class to find it empty except for Mr Holmes, and smiled. "Well, good morning. Sleep well?"

You: Sherlock looked up from his desk when he heard someone come in, it was very early-no student should be here by now. He was pleased to see John entering his classroom. "Goodmorning, John." he greeted, he tapped his coffee cup with his pen. "Haven't slept actually" he answered honestly. He pushed his chair away from his desk to face John. "What can I help you with, did you have a question on the homework?" he asked.

Stranger: Hadn't slept? Well shit, he looked fairly perky and alert for someone who hadn't slept all night, and there was no way a single coffee was holding him up. Which meant he likely regularly didn't sleep. Which was... well, concerning. "How come you didn't sleep?" John frowned, wandering forward to drop his bag at a desk. He rubbed the back of his neck at the question, hesitant. "Well, not really. Just wanted to get here early," he shrugged, and it wasn't quite a lie, just not the whole truth. But oh, hang on. "Wait, no, could you look something over for me? I struggled a little on question fourteen and I /think/ I got it, I just want to make sure my thought process was right," he said, grabbing his notes and wandering up to Sherlock's desk, leaning against it as he handed the work over.

You: Mr. Holmes smiled at John's concern. "I don't sleep often." he answered. "I'm working a lot, and lose track of time. But I manage." he shrugged, usually until his body collapsed from exhaustion. He nodded when John asked him to look over his work, he took John's paper and scanned the work quickly, he turned his head and noticed just how close John was watching over his shoulder. "These all look good. You are missing a valance electron for this calculation of the lewis dot structure of Potassium Chloride." he explained. "Take another look at it." he told, handing him a pencil from his desk.

Stranger: Still, to lose track of time enough to miss an entire night of sleep? That couldn't be healthy. "You really shouldn't be taking work home with you, you know. I've heard that's killer," he warned with a small smile, before leaning close to watch Sherlock pour over his work. Ah. Bugger. Of course he'd missed an electron. "Damn, and it's so obvious now that you've pointed it out, too," he sighed, leaning in to reach over and correct himself, shoulder brushing against Sherlock's. He tried very hard not to think about it. That, and the pleasant scent of coffee and body wash and chemicals. John sat back a little, cheeks pink again. "Is that right?"

You: Sherlock noticed that damn blush again, was it from the small amount of contact? Of course not, John must be embarrassed about the simple mistake. He smiled and nodded, "Yes, everything looks good." he assured him. "It's easy to miss the little things. But you've clearly mastered the concept which is important," he assured him. He wrote a 100 on the top of the page and handed it back to John. "Very good work, John." he reached for his coffee, taking a sip before he spoke again. "Oh, I'm not staying up all night grading papers. I finished that fairly quickly. I'm working on my own personal experiments. Outside of the ones for class." he explained

Stranger: A 100, even with his slight mistake? Well. John blinked, a smile lighting on his face even though he almost felt like it wasn't quite deserved. "Thank you, sir," he nodded, delighted with the perfect mark and praise. "Really doesn't hurt to flash a smile once in a while, huh?" He teased, before straightening up again. He leaned against Sherlock's desk a little and raised a brow, curious, but also careful not to invade his space too much again. "Yeah? What are you working on at the moment?"

You: Sherlock chuckled softly, "Well.." he hesitated, "I don't mean this in an insulting manner but it is far above Chem 1." he warned, "But I'll try and explain it as best I can." he assured him. He stood and went to the board. "You're familiar with Carbon, obviously. Well, Carbon is a very fascinating element. So fascinating that an entire section of Chemistry is devoted to it. It's called Organic Chemistry. Every living thing contains carbon in one form or another. " he began. "Now, you recall going over Lewis Dot Structures for a visual aspect of how elements are going to combine with other elements. Well Carbon is very interesting because of /how/ it forms with different elements. It has properties that are very unique to Carbon." he drew out the lewis dot structure for carbon. "Organic Chemistry is basically...the study of how carbon combines with different things and what happens." he turned to see if John was following along with him. He tried to remember that John had told him he could talk a bit too fast on accident.

Stranger: John was already captivated, having perched himself on the edge of Sherlock's desk to watch him comfortably, listening to him start on organic chemistry. He remember Mr Holmes had mentioned the term a few times, and had briefly touched on the significance of carbon before, so he was able to keep up so far. And God, he could just listen to Sherlock speak about anything he was interested in all day, if the teacher allowed him. Even just the sound of his voice was - right. No. Don't get distracted. John nodded instead, grinning. "I'm keeping up so far, I think. Please, go on."

You: Sherlock noticed John's look of..almost dozing off and he feared he was boring the other but he insisted he continued. He nodded slowly, "Right- well. As I said Organic Chemistry is incredibly difficult, they don't even allow it to be taught in high school it's strictly at the university level." he explained. "I've been trying for years to get an organic chemistry course put in, at least for the students who think they want a career in something-medical perhaps. It will benefit them greatly." he sighed and shook his head. "Anyways, I've recently redirected my focus to Organic Chem, I dabbled in Nuclear Chemistry for a while but-eh it was boring." he shrugged. Sherlock was far too brilliant to be teaching at a high school that much was clear.

Stranger: It was wonderful, hearing him talk about it be excited about it, and honestly John couldn't help but be excited too, leaning forward slightly, intent. And he also honestly couldn't help but ask the obvious question, really. "Mr Holmes, I mean this with the greatest respect, but what the hell are you doing teaching /high schoolers/?" He asked with a light chuckle, shaking his head. "You should be teaching at a university level, if anything. And then that way you /could/ teach the things you want to, advanced things like organic chem. Your mind is too vast and brilliant to be... not wasted, I guess, because a lot of us still learn so much from you, but Christ."

You: Sherlock turned around and smiled softly, he let out a soft chuckle. "Ah.." he had expected this question, he moved to sit back down at his desk. "That's well..a loaded question, John." he answered. "The nice version?" he asked. "High school is a very important time for a growing mind. A good teacher at this level can determine whether a student decides to continue their education to the Uni level." he answered. "And well..a more practical answer. I am a..very hard man to get along with. I step on toes, I never shy away from what I'm thinking and...that has gotten me into trouble." he admitted.

Stranger: That was a fair point, to be honest. Part of John had almost wanted to be something of a writer, even as a hobby, if not for the rubbish English teacher he'd had two years ago. Which in hindsight was probably for the best, but still. He knew what Sherlock meant. High school teachers had a lot of influence. But the practical answer... well, it just didn't sit right with John. He gently leaned back against the desk and knocked his knee against Sherlock's, with a well-meaning frown. "You're not /that/ difficult to get on with. And if anything, surely you'd get away with that more easily at uni, wouldn't you?"

You: Sherlock chuckled and smiled-almost shy like at John's compliment. "I did work at a Uni for some time...but I pissed off the department head and was fired." he explained. "You'll learn John...that in life its all about pleasing the right people. And well..I've never been very good at that." he laughed softly. "I'd rather focus on science than worry about impressing the right administrators and playing the politics of it all." he rolled his eyes. "I can't be bothered to worry myself with it all."

Stranger: Oh. John immediatley felt bad for bringing it up, and honestly a little angry that someone had dared fire him. For what sounded like a personality difference, no less. It just didn't seem fair. And quite right, Sherlock shouldn't have to worry about the politics of it, surely it should just be about his intellect and his ability to share and teach new information. "I'm really sorry, Mr Holmes. That sounds really rough," John said gently, nudging the elder's foot with his own in an awkward sort of attempt at a comforting gesture. "What about a different university, maybe? But... well, us mere high schoolers are very , very, very lucky to have you regardless." He smiled gently.

You: Sherlock opened his mouth as if he were going to speak but shut it. Deciding he definitely should share too much of his past with his student. "I.." he gave a weak smile at the gesture. "High school is fine for me. Right now," he answered simply. John seemed to look up to him for whatever reason and he didn't want to ruin John's ideal of him by revealing that he was a recovering drug addict. That wasn't very..noble of him. In actuality teaching, high school was recommended, supposed to be less stressful and ease him back into teaching and living sober, blah blah. For now, it was fine, Sherlock missed having access to more advanced lab eqipment, but he meant it. Students like John were starting to make the job seem worth it.

You: (shoudn't**)

Stranger: There was a hesitation, a reluctance in him then that suggested he was holding something back, and as curious as John was, he knew better than to pry. Maybe Sherlock had other reasons too and that was fine. It wasn't his business. Honestly he was grateful the man could share even this much with him. "Well, I'm glad you're here," John said gently and sincerely, with a warm smile. "Oh and hey, I meant to ask, I didn't leave a mess in your car, did I?" He asked with a sheepish, apologetic grin, running a hand through his hair. "Because I'd be very happy to clean it up if I did. I know I was pretty muddy after practice, and being damp and all."

You: Sherlock smiled, ignoring the feeling in his stomach when John said he was glad he was here, no one was ever glad he was in the room. He looked up at John, admiring the way he looked when he was..shy and running his hand through his hair like that. "In all honesty, I didn't even look." he admitted. "Even if you did I'm not worried about, I can easily get the car detailed." he assured him. He looked John over briefly, deducing simple things about him. He'd showered this morning and was wearing a strong aftershave. It seemed he wanted to seem..mature, possibly draw attention from girls. "You're doing well in your other classes?" he asked, "I assume so, I know athletes can't play if they are failing classes."

Stranger: There was a certain way Sherlock was looking at him now, slightly more intensely than before, and oh yeah, John recognised the look he got when he was deducing people. He'd only witnessed the teacher deduce other students aloud three times, when calling them out on excuses or lies or bad behaviour, and it was incredible every time. Being on the receiving end of that look was no less incredible, but certainly a little intimidating. That warmth rose to John's cheeks again, and he swallowed, collecting himself. God he hoped Sherlock couldn't read him too deeply. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm doing really well in bio and phys-ed. The others are all okay," he smiled, before giving a small shrug. "Not /quite/ as well as I'm doing in your class, I'll admit, but then again of course I'm doing the best for my favourite teacher."

You: Sherlock chuckled, "I'd hardly qualify Phys-ed as a class." he mumbled with a playful roll of his eyes. He grinned when John called him his favorite teacher, "Well, I'm well off in anything science. So if you need help with Biology I can help with that as well. Biology and Chemistry work side by side really, nearly everything that happens in the human body is a form of chemistry." he hummed. "And math, but I am absolutely no use in anything English or History." he chuckled.

Stranger: John chuckled lightly, shrugging. Yeah, he couldn't imagine Sherlock would have much interest in things like literature or history. Science, though. Anything and everything scientific, he was sure Sherlock had or would master. "Well thanks, Mr Holmes. I really appreciate it. And you know, I probably could do with a little bit of help with bio," he said carefully. "I swear I'm not just trying to spend more time with you. Although I wouldn't mind that too," he teased with a small smirk, knocking his knee against the teacher's lightly. That wasn't too far, right? Not /too/ flirty?

You: Sherlock was painfully aware of John's third attempt at subtle physical contact with him. He rose an eyebrow, quickly realizing that John was flirting with him. It was hard to believe but he couldn't ignore the obvious- supposed to be subtle hints. Sherlock was incredibly good at reading people and John-well the poor boy was basically an open book. He licked his lips subconsciously as he thought about how to approach this. He gave John a small smile. "Well, You know where to find me. Before or after school, or during my office hours" he answered. He wasn't overstepping, it was just tutoring. John simply saw him as a role model at most, it was nothing to worry about.

Stranger: Okay, so maybe that wasn't quite as subtle as he'd hoped. But hell, if he was being a little too obvious and if Sherlock did realise that maybe this was a little inappropriate, surely the teacher would gently, nicely disengage. Right? And yet, Mr Holmes was practically offering an invitation - a very professional one, of course, for tutoring and nothing more - and that swipe of his tongue over his lips... John swallowed. Oh, he was so letting it get to his head. "Well, maybe I could stay behind after school today? You could tell me more about organic chemistry and help me with my bio paper," he suggested innocently enough, though the colour in his cheeks was such a stupid, blatant giveaway.

You: Oh, Christ that blush. John was smitten, he could see it over his face. Oh god, was the aftershave for him? It did smell nice subjectively but John wasn't supposed to be trying to catch the eye of his teacher. He was supposed to be interested in boys closer to his age, perhaps another rugby player or something. Not his chemistry teacher. Mr. Holmes hesitated for a moment before he nodded, "That'd be fine." he agreed softly, knowing that was a terrible idea but he couldn't say he didn't enjoy John's company. Besides, it wasn't like he was taking him home with him. It would be in a professional environment. Just-tutoring and conversation. That was harmless. Mr. Holmes looked up when the bell rang, he looked to John. "You better get to first period. You don't want to be late." he warned

Stranger: Something in his abdomen did a delightful little somersault when Sherlock agreed to see him at the end of the day. Even if it really was just to keep talking about chemistry and school, John didn't mind one bit. He was a hopeful young man, but he wasn't naive. He knew in his head nothing would ever happen, not that Sherlock would even ever be interested, and yet... and yet he just couldn't help but grin as he nodded, and straightened up. "Right. Yeah," he said as other students finally started to filter into Sherlock's class. He grabbed his bag, unable to wipe that smile off his face as he turned back to Sherlock. "Thanks again, Mr Holmes. I'll come find you later. And definitely have another coffee," he chuckled lightly, before dipping out the door and hurrying off to English, grinning and pink-cheeked the whole way.

You: Sherlock let out an exhale as John left the room, he ran his hand through his curls and tried to focus on getting his lesson plan together and actually-teaching something but he found himself distracted all day. He found himself comparing every student to John. John would of known that answer, John would understand what he was saying. John wouldn't be on his phone while he was teaching. By the time it was lunch Sherlock was sure he was going mad. Yet even still he found himself watching the door, expecting-well hoping that John would come looking for him.

Stranger: ((Brb!))

You: (no prob!)

Stranger: It was incredibly difficult paying attention in his first two classes of the day. They seemed to drag by, as his much less interesting teachers drawled on without much enthusiasm at all, obviously going over content they'd taught time and time again and had gotten sick of. Sherlock would never be this boring. But God, he really couldn't get too hung up on the man just yet... but then lunch rolled round and his rugby mates said something about kicking the ball around on the field for a while and John said he'd catch up with them shortly, he just needed to run something by one of his teachers. Which was mostly true, anyway, as he quickly finished his lunch and headed back to Sherlock's classroom, popping his head in the doorway. And there he was, looking his way, almost expectant. John laughed, grinning. "Hey. You look like you're waiting for someone," he teased, stepping inside.

You: Sherlock hated that he lit up when John did come through the door. He adored John's smile, it just seemed to light up the whole room. And the smile was just for him. Mr. Holmes couldn't help a shrug, "I had a feeling I would be seeing you during lunch." he admitted. He gave John a raised eyebrow, wondering what excuse he had come up with to be spending his lunch with a teacher instead of friends.

Stranger: There was no mistaking the sudden rush of life and light in Mr Holmes' eyes, then. And John tried really hard not to credit himself for it because that would just be daft, of course he didn't mean that much to his teacher, and yet. And yet, he loved the idea that Sherlock had known damn well he would pop by and had been waiting patiently. John chuckled again and closed the door behind him, blocking out the mindless chatter of other students in the corridor. "Just wanted to make sure you're still awake. And besides, I've got you for next period. Maybe I wanted a head start," he shrugged with a smirk, wandering forward. "Have you had lunch already?"

You: Mr. Holmes watched John very closely, when the blonde shut the door he had a little wave of panic but didn't say anything. John's tone and posture signaled he was getting braver, more comfortable around the older man. Sherlock swallowed at the thought of that, having mixed feelings about that realization. He nodded, "I'm not tired in the least." he answered, which was not a lie. John had been filling his mind all morning, it was becoming bit of a distraction. Sherlock shook his head when John asked if he had eaten, "No, I usually leave for lunch. Not too fond of the excuse for food they serve you poor students." Sherlock stood, needing to stretch his legs, "What's got you so eager for class?" he asked.

Stranger: Oh. Oh, there was the barest hint of trepidation in Sherlock then, a faint hesitation that gave John pause. He didn't want to make the man uncomfortable, not at all. Was he coming on a bit strong, now? Had he gotten the wrong idea? Was he letting Sherlock's friendliness get to his head? John tried not to over-analyse it too hard, but quietly tried to rein himself in a little, giving a small smile. "Fair enough, honestly. I usually bring something from home. It's generally better than the cafeteria stuff," he agreed, setting his bag down

Stranger: ((Oops wasn't done, sorry!))

Stranger: bag down. He floundered to come up with an excuse for wanting to see the teacher, and really this was just going to end up embarrassing if he wasn't careful, but he gave another shrug. "I just didn't fancy listening to Thomas go on about the birds he's been sleeping with, and you know, getting one hundred percent on my homework has sure inspired me to keep learning."

You: Sherlock rose an eyebrow, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. John was a quick thinker, but he had to know he'd see through the lie. Come on John, you're smarter than this. "Ah.." he hummed, "Isn't that what boys your age are supposed to be doing? Your hormones are running wild at this age." he reminded, sort of leading John to the idea that this crush was just hormones, nothing more. "And I assure you Thomas has not slept with any women. No one who brags that much is telling the truth." he joked

Stranger: Oh yes, the implication that John's affection could be put down to nothing but hormones didn't go amiss. But that meant Sherlock knew. He had to know, and yet... and yet, wasn't he kind of feeding into it? Even when if he was trying to suggest this was just a hormonal crush? John's heart fluttered and he tried not to think too hard about it, tried to fight the heat in his face at the concrete realisation that Mr Holmes knew damn well he was smitten with him. But that was fine. It didn't matter. He enjoyed his company regardless. "Well," John shrugged again, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Maybe you're rigjt

Stranger: right. Considering you can tell what students are sleeping with who based on the turn of their collars," he teased lightly. "I'm not innocent, I'll admit. But it's pretty overrated. Fooling around."

You: Sherlock rose an eyebrow by John's statement, this conversation was definitely not an appropriate one to be having with his student, but really they had cross appropriate a while ago. "Oh? " he questioned, "Are you implying you're immune to the body's own primal urges?" he asked-using that I know you're lying tone of his. "Asexuality is certainly valid-don't get me wrong, but I don't think you're asexual John.."

Stranger: "Oh no, no - I didn't mean to imply that," John quickly tried to correct with a shake of his head and a rush of red to the tips of his ears. Oh no, there was no trying to convince /anyone/ he wasn't interested in sex full stop, let alone Sherlock Holmes. "I mean, you know, the shitty teenage thing. Of dating people for a couple of months before moving on to the next crush

Stranger: crush. Or hooking up with whoever and bragging about it the next day. Just... I don't know. It all seems a bit daft." He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair anxiously again

Stranger: again.*

Stranger: ((I dont know why my thumb is suddenly so attracted to the send button I'm sorry haha))

You: (Haha no problems)

You: Sherlock hummed in thought, "I hate to break it to you John but that daft behavior is around way past high school." he joked, there it was again. John was very mature and just...thought differently than anyone else his age. "I'd have to agree with you then- I suppose. " he shrugged. "It's a shame..you are very popular with the girls in the class. "

Stranger: Was he, just? The pink in John's cheeks darkened slightly and he laughed, this time running his hand through his hair slowly, a little more deliberately. "What can I say? I'm quite the catch," he teased, waggling his brows. And then he laughed it off, perching himself on the nearest desk. "I'd rather something a little more meaningful, I guess. Wait for something I'm sure of. Some/one/ I'm sure of." As if that wasn't pointed at all. But the message was clear - he wasn't going to rush into anything, regardless of opportunity. "What about you, sir?" He asked daringly, tilting his head.

You: Sherlock caught the pointed message, he ignored it. Every teenager thought they were sure of everything at that age. He frowned and shook his head,"What about me?" he asked, unsure what John was asking. Was this his way of asking if he was single?

Stranger: John put his hands back in his pockets and looked over at Sherlock carefully, wondering. It was definitely crossing a line to pry like this. Into his love life, of all things. It wasn't his businss

Stranger: business. He had no reason to ask. Even to make conversation, it was probably a bit far. And yet... "Do you have anyone? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" John asked, curious.

Stranger: ((Brb for a while, I'll try keep the connection up but I'll be a few minutes!))

You: Sherlock shook his head, "No." he answered simply, not going into any further detail than that. "I'm- for all purposes solely focused on my work." he answered. That seemed like the most appropriate answer he could give his student. Sherlock had been with people in the past but-nothing serious.

You: (do you want to switch over to email?)

Stranger: ((Yeah that works!))

You: (i can send the log over!)

You have disconnected.

#johnlock #teacherlock #omegle rp #johnlock rp

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