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Sherlock sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, and pressing his fingers into his eyes as he did so. He’d already had this class for a period in the morning, and now he had to suffer with them for two more on a Friday afternoon.He was teaching his least favourite topic in maths, he was riled up from the year twelves beforehand that were making crude comments about him and another member of staff, he had even taken the measure of laying the photo frames atop his filing cabinet flat, so to not knock them down when he kicked it for the seventeenth time that day.Now one of the year eleven students had decided to be clever and try his patience.“Yes, Angus, all the maths I teach you is indeed applicable to life. Except for one topic, the topic I’m about to teach you. I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to, but unfortunately they refuse to take it off the course no matter how much I protested to them.” He took a breath, and a quick glance over the classroom to make sure everyone was attentive, a young girl was currently checking her twitter notifications behind her pencil case, of course, they never learn. He snapped his fingers in her direction. “Sally, any idea what this topic might be?”“No, sir.”“Well maybe if you opened your book instead of checking if your boyband meme page had any new followers, you’d know. Surds, anyone heard of them?” The class was silent, twenty-seven pairs of eyes trained to him as he paced the classroom. The desks were organised in a U shape so he, and the board were always clear. Twenty-six, now a particularly anxious boy had decided to look down at his book.“Ethan, square route of sixteen!” He spun around, and the teenager looked up, his face flaring red as his eyes widened a little in panic. Sherlock loved this, quizzing them all, he found it amusing that even though they knew the answer, under pressure they’d always second guess themselves.“Uh- four?”Sherlock nodded. “Correct. Mark, square route of four?” He spun around again pointing to a boy who liked to hide in the back“Two, sir.”“Right again. Ethan,” This was a boy who had been particularly irksome in the previous period, he had a nasty habit of trying to sell cigarettes at lunchtimes, Sherlock hadn't caught him in the act, and the simple fact that the teacher could smell tobacco off him every time he entered the room wasn’t enough for the headmaster. That and he was definitely familiar with ridiculing others. “Square route of twelve.”“Uhm… Zero?”Sherlock rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh and dragged himself over to put his foot through the filing cabinet again, eighteen times may be a new record. “No, try again.”“I don’t know…” He muttered, leaning back into his chair, glancing through the messy blonde mop of hair at the teacher. His friends seemed to find it quite amusing, but this is where things began to get quite fun, he could see how it would pan out.“Right.”“What?” Another annoying boy piped up, Philip Anderson, somebody who probably shouldn’t have taken additional maths, but did anyway, and was so vain that he argued that Sherlock, a man with a degree in the topic, was incorrect. He usually tried to be funny or clever, and usually he wasn’t.“That’s the right answer. Of course, he doesn’t know, none of you know. I know, obviously, but that’s not important. A surd is the square route of a number that isn’t square. Useless things, the only useless thing in this maths class.”“Apart from Ethan.” Philip replied, bite to his voice and the teenager on the other side of the room pretended like he hadn't heard it, continuing to stare down at the notes despite the fact that they hadn't written anything yet.“Alright then, we have a clever one, do we? Let me be clear that there will not ever be a tolerated ridicule of another pupil in this class. The only bad word spread, should be from me or about me. Do you all understand me?” Philip’s face paled considerably, and Sherlock could feel the other boy staring into the back of his head. He wasn’t sure whether it was out of further embarrassment or appreciation. “Psycho…” Anderson muttered under his breath when Sherlock turned his back.“That just shows how little you understand the educational system, Phillip. They would never allow a psychopath to teach, a high functioning sociopath, however? Well, here I am.”“Did I come at a bad time, Mr Holmes?”Sherlock spun on his heel to see another teacher at his door, standing in the door frame. He was a shorter man in a beige cable knit jumper and jeans. He was fairly short and just as soft, in nature he was firm yet polite and could shut down an entire classroom with a single yell.He juxtaposed Sherlock in almost every way, from the tailored trousers and rumpled shirt with the sleeves rolled up, to the maths teachers lanky frame and sharp features.They were a strange pair, but nobody could really deny how good they were for each other.John Watson was one of the school’s biology teachers, and Sherlock’s boyfriend of nearly a year. He was kind-hearted and loyal, but he could also break every bone in your body while naming them. He was an adrenaline junkie, yet he loved doing the crossword. He could shoot a man dead but could save a man’s life. He was an oxymoron and Sherlock loved that about him. He was interesting.When Sherlock met him, he had been in a deep depressive state, hiding it but not well enough. Sherlock fixed that, John was grateful, though he really had no reason.John had helped him in a way he didn’t realise. Sherlock had always thought he’d be alone, he was contented with that fact, he wasn’t bothered about the stigma, but the moment he met John that all changed. He was no longer content. John had surprised him in many ways, but the biggest was when he offered the realisation that Sherlock was worth loving.They didn’t live together, despite John tolerating a lot of Sherlock’s annoying habits, eyes in the microwave was something Sherlock knew he wouldn’t like. Considering they saw each other all the time at work, they didn’t feel any need, but one staying over at the others home was no unusual occurrence. At least this way Sherlock had warning to clean out his kitchen appliances when John was coming over. Well his landlady would, same difference.The look of amusement on John’s face told Sherlock he’d been standing there long enough to hear his short lecture. He had a subtle look of pride written on his features, and Sherlock cocked a brow and the corner of his mouth quirked up.John wasn’t the normal ideal of beauty, his ears were too big for his head, his hair was greying, he had poor fashion taste. But all of those things didn’t matter to Sherlock in the beginning, and now they just made him fall further. He was in his early thirties, and Sherlock his early twenties, their friendship and then eventual romance was unlikely and unforeseen.Sherlock had never been happier, despite what the state of his filing cabinet may suggest,Just the sight of him brought a soft smile to his face. “Dr Watson, how can I help you?”“I just wanted to check up on you, how’s your head?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, that was quite typical of John, he loved a little bit of a joke, he knew just how nosy students could be and Sherlock rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.” He replied, offering a warning glare to John who just raised his eyebrows and made a face of mock innocence.“Sir, what happened to his head?” Ethan piped up, the timid boy who barely spoke, had now decided to break his character, Sherlock had not expected that, and the filing cabinet was looking more and more kickable by the second.John smiled at the teenager for taking the bait. “Oh, poor sod went running, slipped and cracked the back of his head, thought he might have a concussion.”Sherlock knew that was a lie, John had been with him on a date and he caught sight of an absolute sleazy bastard trying to drug a girl at the bar. Sherlock wanted to resist it, but John caught it as well, so they made a ruckus and began the chase when the reprobate tried to run.Maybe it wasn’t a total lie, he had been running, and there had been threat of a concussion, but the injury was his head slamming against a wall as he got shoved before John tackled the asshole to the ground and the police caught up (lagging behind, as usual).Before he could embarrass himself, or John could embarrass him more he decided to try and shush him and get him out. He preferred to get his social life out of his life at school, preferring to keep up the persona that teachers eat, sleep and breathe school. “Yes, thank you, Mr Watson, we are aware of the severity that hitting your head can become, thank you for your concern, will that be all?”“Yep, are you coming round to mine?” John asked, and Sherlock rolled his eyes, moving closer, signalling that John keep his voice down.“Obviously, my bike is in your garage, how else am I to leave?” Sherlock replied, his voice was a low murmur and the smile on John’s face prevented him from being annoyed. He was nervous about how his pupils, and other staff members would react if they discovered the true nature of their relationship.It wasn’t as if there hadn't been staffroom romances, there was a married couple of teachers for Christ’s sake. For them, however, it was rather different.“Sounds good, but I'm not leaving until you say it.” A coy smile crept onto John’s lips and Sherlock knew immediately what he was getting at.“Say what?” He asked bluntly instead, hoping to get away with it.“You said it yesterday and I’d like to hear it again sometime before my next class. Besides, I bought that bread you like on my lunch break. ”“Fine, thank you, I love you.”John pressed a quick and discreet kiss to the corner of his mouth, Sherlock didn’t resist, and as much as he knew he’d get the ridicule from his class, he appreciated that John wasn’t ashamed of him. “Thatta boy, I love you too.” John replied, smiling at him and offering him a wink.“Well, as I was saying-“The quiet giggles that circled around the classroom, and the lack of work that was actually being focused on didn’t matter at this point, because the warmth that spread from his face to his chest and fizzled down to his toes was worth it.He rolled his eyes to himself once he sat down at his desk, now the class were working in quiet murmurs. The smile on his face refused to go away, however.John was turning him into a sap.