Admiration chapter 1: From afar

I thought we needed more teenlock and I love the secret admires to boyfriend story line so I'm going to it. Though I know nothing about Rugby since I'm American so I'm going to be acting like it's American football. If (read:when) I make a mistake just let me know so I can fix it. :3 thanks for reading and let me know if you like it/ if I should continue.

Sherlock moved closer to the field, meaning he had to slouch to fit his tall body under the bleachers but it was all worth it. He came up to the perfect view of John Watson, the school rugby captain, bending over to pickup the ball. They had to of gone through this one play at least four times by now but John was a perfectionist, and all over perfect as far as the young genius was concerned, and he refused to leave good enough alone. He started barking out orders in a way that made Sherlock shiver. He quickly tried to reign himself, conscious of making too much noise. He would much prefer not needing to explain why he was crouched under the bleachers watching the team. He had a notebook with him full of fake notes just in case. Being openly gay made everyone jump to assumptions about his reasonings so he made sure to have a flawless cover story. One so perfect even John would approve of its cleverness. If anyone asked, Sherlock would simply explain that he was studying the muscular development of teenagers as a side project. Bring a known genius meant this wouldn't be considered odd for him. He sighed, watching John's form as he threw the ball to his friend Mike Stamford. John's form was wonderful, though Sherlock critical eye spotted things that could be improved to maximize his aim. Sherlock should tell John about how to improve his throws. But that would require speaking to the rugby player and that was impossible. John was much too popular to be seen with the likes of outcast Sherlock and being in the same room as him was enough to make all of Sherlock's blood flood his face. No, Sherlock was mostly content to watch from afar.

John quietly cursed himself as he jogged to the theater. He made sure his hoodie and hat was arranged in a way to not be overly recognizable but also not looking like he was an escaped convict. Finding everything suitable, he followed the crowd, buying a ticket and finding his seat. He slouched a bit, the opposite of his normal posture, and bounced his knee the normal mix of excitement and nerves filling him. It was the newest ballet performance by the school. He made sure to come to all of them. It wasn't because he had a major love for the arts or dance or anything, though he found his appreciation has increased recently, rather one of the dancers. John knew himself well enough to tell when he had a crush and he had one. Bad. He couldn't help it though. Sherlock dancing was a thing of perfection. Seeing the normally remote, hostile and isolated teen opening himself to the music and flow was enough to sweep John away as well. The lights dimmed and the music started. John gripped his seat, eyes riveted to the stage. The curtain rose and there he was. Sherlock started the dance, quickly becoming lost in it. Must be one he liked then. Sherlock danced with the grace of the wind but the precision of a weapon. At the final note, John is among the first standing in applause. He's not so far gone to be the first but his admiration gets the better of him, making him not far behind. He hurries out of the theater hoping to avoid recognition. It always leads to an awkward conversation ending with John lying that his sister was in there but he wasn't supposed to come. He Hayes lying but refuses to miss the shows. He wishes he could talk to the young genius dancer but his few attempts had ended in silence and annoyed looks. It would seem he's stuck watching from afar.