Sherlock had refused to talk after leaving the crime scene. He went to the morgue to see the body, but insisted on sending John back to the dorm in a separate taxi. John's stomach squirmed within, afraid he had brought this sudden silence on somehow. His teacher's lips had been pursed in a tight line and the grey eyes seemed to stare at something John couldn't see. It was slightly unnerving.

When he finally reached his dorm room, part of him felt like falling apart in a puddle of tears. But John Watson was not one known for crying. Besides, his head was still throbbing from the hangover, and being around Sherlock had overstimulated his mind, which wasn't helping his concussion either.

"Where the fuck were you last night?" Lucas said, startling John from his thoughts. The tall boy was stretched across his bed wearing nothing but boxers, big square glasses framing his brilliantly chocolate eyes and a copy of Ford Madox Ford's The Good Soldier in his hands. John couldn't help noting what a great distraction Lucas could be from Sherlock.

John started to stutter out an excuse for his absence when the brown eyes widened and Lucas broke into a toothy grin. "You did get some!" he exclaimed. "Look at your fucking neck! Damn, Pipsqueak!"

John's had subconsciously went to rub the mark Sherlock had left as his face brightened crimson. "Yeah, I guess."

"Was that where you were all night?"

"Yeah."

"Man, Watson. Gotta show me your moves. Was she really hot?"

John smirked slightly, thinking back to running his fingers through Sherlock's silky curls and feeling the flexing of muscles beneath the rather tight shirt. "Yeah, really hot."

Lucas sat up now, his muscular chest now seeming less appealing when John was preoccupied with thoughts of Sherlock. Last night had been somewhat a blur, but he remembered the way it felt to have Sherlock pressed against him as they slept, spooned together. He remembered the delicious taste of wine on Sherlock's lips. He remembered the deep voice assuring him that it would wait until he was ready.

"So you'll be back for the game next week, right?" Lucas asked, pulling John from his thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm practicing today."

"Better get your shit together," Lucas remarked. "It's already 9:45 and you look like hell."

John glanced in the mirror and groaned. He even looked hungover, and he could really use a cold shower. But he didn't have time for that. He quickly pulled on a practice uniform and hurried to meet up with Lucas at the field. All thoughts of Sherlock were buried underneath his rush and anxiety to return to practice.

When he did return to the field, he found himself slightly rusty. It seemed he had to work twice as hard to perform at the same level he had before his concussion. Lucas turned out to be really supportive, constantly encouraging him and dismissing his mistakes. John hadn't realized before what a great friend Lucas really was.

"You'll be fine, John," he insisted, clapping the shorter boy on the back. "Next game you're sure to score again. Who knows, you might even get a hattrick."

John left practice slightly disappointed in himself. As he was walking back to the locker room, he was stopped by Lucas.

"Hey. Kev is having a party later. Wanna go?"

John shook his head. It still hurt slightly from the night before. "I'll pass. I could use a quiet night. Besides, I have a lot of chemistry to study for."

Lucas groaned. "Shit. Chemistry. I forgot. Hey, how about we both pass on the party and meet up in the library later for a study session?"

"Yeah, alright," John agreed.

He found Lucas later sitting at one of the tables near the back. The tan boy turned his deep brown eyes towards John and smiled. "Ready to study chemistry, Pipsqueak?"

John laughed. "No. But it has to be done anyway if I want to pass the next test."

Lucas snorted. "Pass? Impossible! Holmes has sealed our fate with failure!"

John frowned. "He's not that bad."

"The man is like a machine. Maybe he's different with you. He did pick you to intern with him."

"I guess," John said uncomfortably, rubbing the mark left on his neck.

"So what did you get for number seven?"

"Uh... Sodium chloride." John looked up from his paper to see the deep brown eyes staring intently at him, the tanned face only inches away. He gulped instinctively.

"You know, you're really amazing," Lucas murmured. "Athletic and smart. And not too bad on the eyes, either."

"Lucas..."

Lucas suddenly sat up straight. "So for eight I got ammonium nitrate. Did you get the same?"

John sat slightly dazed. What just happened? Must be his concussion messing with him. He was delusional now.

"I'm not feeling too well," John said, trying to excuse himself from the table. "I think I'll just head back."

And as if things couldn't possibly become more uncomfortable, he stood up and turned right into Sherlock.

"Shit! Sorry."

Sherlock just gazed down at him, then glanced over his shoulder at Lucas. "I need help on my experiment. I was looking for you."

"I... Sorry, but I'm not feeling too hot. I was just heading to bed."

"But this is important."

"So is my health. And my sleep."

Sherlock snorted. "The body is just transport for the mind. And what the mind needs is science."

John tried to silently express his situation but ended up having an uncomfortable stare down with Sherlock instead. He didn't really want to go with Sherlock anyway. He wanted to sort out his feelings over the morning first.

"Hey, why don't you back off and leave John alone? He's a student that needs some sleep. He's not your servant to come at your beck and call."

John hadn't noticed Lucas stand up and move behind him. Now he was stuck between Lucas and Sherlock.

Sherlock opened his mouth, undoubtedly to make a cunning remark, but John spoke first. "Lucas, it's alright. Mr Holmes, I'll help for a bit but I really can't stay long."

Sherlock snorted and strode away, leaving John following in his wake and casting a curious glance back towards Lucas.