Honestly, after hearing that from your very own Teacher Gojo, Sherlock could hardly imagine what kind of goddamn impression Satoru Gojo had of him. Seriously, did his jailbird teacher not have a single fucking good impression of him?
It was only because Sherlock had not asked. If he had dared ask, his jailbird teacher probably would not even have hesitated before answering with two ice-cold words.
"Not one!"
After Satoru Gojo said that, Sherlock could not be bothered to argue with him about the rest of the plan. He rolled his eyes hard, gave your very own Teacher Gojo a towering middle finger, then promptly carried the huge bundle he had been sitting on into the room, turned, and walked out.
Over the next few days, Satoru Gojo was surprised to discover that Sherlock seemed to have forgotten all about Okkotsu. He kept hanging around the first- and second-years, talking to them about something.
He even ran to the Infirmary from time to time, holing up inside and talking to Shoko about who knew what.
What was more, Sherlock would occasionally disappear for a while, and nobody knew what he had gone off to do.
In the end, Satoru Gojo could not take it anymore. He went to Shoko himself and asked just what that goddamn Sherlock was plotting. Whether Sherlock was targeting him or not, he at least wanted to know what would kill him.
Looking at Satoru Gojo, who had practically developed PTSD from all the outrageous stunts Sherlock had pulled over time, Shoko curled one corner of her mouth. Rather wickedly, she did not tell him what Sherlock was plotting, and instead only told him not to mention the Tokyo Jujutsu High club at Sherlock's House to Yuta Okkotsu.
At least, not until everything was over.
Satoru