AN: A request for 'Teenlock angst' from lumbiznes on Tumblr.

John and Sherlock had been together for a little over three months, and they still hadn't told anyone (John's parents knew, it was the only way him and Sherlock were allowed out together so much. They just guessed). This was mainly because of the kids at school, they'd seen what had happened to the boy in the year above who came in on a non-uniform day with a dress on and announced he was transgender. Poor kid. Being gay was very different, but they were worried that it would even have a little of the same reception, John's sister Harry was a lesbian and she had gotten a lot of shit for it, John had seen her crying over comments and marks on her face and arms from where she'd been punched or hit. John thought that it was why she'd dropped out of school early and was always out, drinking in random clubs and at parties.

Anyway, this all meant that John couldn't tell anyone about his growing concern for Sherlock. How he'd been changing, how he'd been sneaking out a night. There is no way John can tell people about the latter, even his parents, how the hell would he know that apart from the fact he spends a lot of nights in Sherlock's room, at his brother's flat-which said brother spends almost no time in. He hardly even speaks to him at school, then again Sherlock doesn't associate with anyone at school. He won't even come to lunch or break, he preferred to stay in the library or a science lab. When John does go to see him, he'll usually shoo him off. John doesn't mind though, out of school, Sherlock is a completely different person. He's calmer, kinder, passionate but he still keeps the brilliance John sees in class or when Sherlock deduces someone (funny talent of his, Sherlock can tell you anything about a person's life just from a glance) and tells John he loves him frequently, whispering sweet things in his ear. Or at least that's what Sherlock was like, up until a two weeks ago.

Now, Sherlock was distant in a way, more snappy with John, even out of school he hardly talked to John, and it wasn't like he was in one of his moods (John knew what to do about those) or focusing on an experiment. If they were kissing, Sherlock would either be too fast, not caring or kissing the way John liked, but almost aggressively or Sherlock would be the complete opposite; be interested at all. There were periods when Sherlock would be totally unreachable, and he almost always replied straight away, or gave John some forewarning if he's be too busy. Definitely something wrong with him. Sherlock had even been eating more than usual didn't been need to be prompted to anymore he'd binge a lot, then disappear. John almost thought about bulimia, but Sherlock didn't care about other's views on him enough. Unless this was for John. He decided to confront Sherlock, finally.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John says, they're in a café in the middle of town, probably too close to the school, but this is too important for John to worry about anyone seeing them together.

"Nothing. I'm fine" Sherlock's tone is too relaxed, and his eyes are just staring, not flicking over passers-by and deducing things about them. "No you are not." John says firmly, catching Sherlock's hand and making sure he's looking at him "You've been acting too weirdly. And I know it isn't about an experiment of yours gone wrong, or someone you're trying to figure out because you drag me with you when anything's especially exciting. Tell me"

"Nothing, John. I've just been talking to some new people, they're very interesting" Sherlock looked a little panicked, but John puts that down to the confrontation.

"They aren't good for you, whoever they are, stay away?"

"Getting jealous?" Sherlock's hand crept onto his thigh, his voice was low and seductive "You needn't be" Sherlock moved closer, and whispers in John's ear "We might as well skip last lesson, useless anyway. Come to mine, I have plans for you" a shiver goes down John's spine, Sherlock's so close, and his hands moving even further up John's thigh under the table. Instead of carrying on the line of questioning he planned, John grabs Sherlock's hand not caring who sees them and drags him out of the café.

After that, Sherlock's better, not as distant and he didn't even sneak out if John was at his, and the periods of his mobile being turned off were shorter. But he still wasn't himself, somehow.

It's not until a month after Sherlock started acting weird that John finds out what was really wrong with his boyfriend.

John was in class when he got the message. He'd thought nothing of it when Sherlock hadn't turned up to school this morning, he skipped when he could because he found everything 'dull', John would text him at break and invite him for tea or something. He missed Sherlock when he wasn't there, even if they didn't talk, he still missed seeing the dark curls in the corner of a lab as he walked out to lunch, the snarky comments to teachers or under his breath, he didn't realise how much he's look for Sherlock until it came to days like this. When the receptionist came in and asked for him, John presumed it was something to do with his Rugby- he was always been taken out for matches, asked to give team talks, help with the younger years- it was a good excuse to get out of class, really.

"John, there's someone on the phone for you. Says it's urgent, he wouldn't go away. Then we got emails and everything, he was even threating the school. I didn't know but I looked up the number and it was an official government one. " the small woman said, wringing her hands. She was nervous about something.

"Who was he?"

"Mycroft Holmes? Doesn't that..uhm" she was obviously changing her wording to describe Sherlock, but John already knew. He sped off down the corridor then, almost running. "What are you doing? Do you know him? What is it?" John barely heard her. This is about Sherlock, definitely. And if Mycroft's contacting him, it has to be something bad. Or some sort of threat, but he'd already done that and he couldn't go get Sherlock for him, Mycroft would know that.

John pushed past another woman at the door of the reception and grabbed the phone. "Is Sherlock..what?" he's too out of breath, but Mycroft understands him.

"My younger, idiotic, brother over dosed on cocaine." John's heart sinks. Sherlock? Drugs? Doesn't over dosed usually mean they're dead? No. God no. Sherlock…dead? No. John's knees give way at that thought, and he's crumpled on the floor. "He's in the hospital, thankfully some old lady reported him. He was in a park, and I immediately got the call"

"I thought you meant he was dead. How bad is it? Where is he? I need to go see him" John brings his knees towards him, hugging them with his spare arm.

"He's comatose. Wouldn't know you were there. No point, really."

"Mycroft! Of course I need to see him. I don't care is he's in a coma. Tell me where to go"

"Fine. He's in a private institute, and will be moved to rehab when he's well enough" He rattled of an address and John kneels up to the desk and to scribble it on a pad there.

"I'm coming now. I have enough for a cab fare." Mycroft seems about to protest, but John slammed down the phone and walked out, telling the receptionist it was his uncle calling him and there was a family crisis.

He gets out of the school gates and crosses to the main road, walking unto he gets closer to town and finds a taxi. He gives the cabbie the piece of paper "Fast as you can, please"

"Can't go over the limit, lad. Shouldn't you be in school?"

"My boyfriend is in hospital, in a coma. I need to see him. Please." The last bit comes out strangled, and John puts his head in his hand "Please"

"Okay, okay. I'll be careful, but we'll go as fast as we can."

"Thanks" John leant back against the seat, staring out the window. Drugs? Cocaine? He knew Sherlock was up to something…but this? He must know the effect they had on his brain. And Sherlock's brain was his tool, his key to everything.

Now Sherlock was ill. So ill. How often did people even wake up from comas? How had even gotten in to this stuff? Oh god-what if he had brain damage? His Sherlock, not being able to use his brain. John wouldn't care, not really. He'd help Sherlock through anything, but…what if he didn't wake up? That was the worst possible thing he could think of. John's mind went in this vicious circle all the way to the hospital.

When they finally arrived, after being stuck in a traffic jam that nearly sent John completely mental John jumped out of the cab, threw the money from his wallet at the cabbie and ran in. The building was small and the whole outside wall was made of glass. John found the reception and ran in. "Sherlock Holmes…he's…in a coma? Where…" John was out of breath, having run across the whole car park.

"Are you family?"

"No I….I'm his boyfriend" they hardly used that term except with each other, they couldn't and he's already used it twice today. The woman shook her head, smiling at him "Sorry, we only allow family in these circumstances. He's only just stable"

"Please" John's voice was weak and he takes a breath "Just a minute? I'll look through the doorway, won't go in the room. Please I need to…"

"I'm sorry. It's not our policy" John leans against the desk.

"Please. I can't stand this. Please" he's begging now, he can't leave until he sees Sherlock. Then, a shadow falls over him, he looks up. Mycroft. John never thought he'd be so happy to see that smarmy face, with the pressed suit and neat tie.

" -you have to help me. Get me in to see him"

"If you feel it's nessacery" he turns back to the woman at the desk "John will be coming with me" the woman smiles and nods and John follows Mycroft down a corridor to the right.

"How is he...what...how long will he" John couldn't figure out what to ask first.

"He's stable, but I see you already know that. They have no idea what damage could of have been done to his brain or cognetive functions, we have to wait until he wakes"

"And when will that be?" John asks, nothing Mycroft had just said had helped him at all, he sped up, his need to see Sherlock had only increased as he got closer. "Where.."

"Just up here.". Mycroft interrupted then indicated a door. John hesitated and Mycoft pushed past him, opening the door and walking in.

John had expected multiple doctors hovering around, everyone chatting and accessing, but he was greeted with almost silence, only interrupted by the beeping of Sherlock's heart monitor. Sherlock himself was laid out the crisp sheets, he was laid completely straight, feet almost hanging over the bed, he was always very gangly, and coupled with how Sherlock's usually pale skin was even whiter, he looked like a corpse. He was so still. Sherlock was never still, always running off somewhere on some sort of mission. Even if he was reading or on the laptop he's have a foot tapping or if they were together, a hand running through John's hair, soft circles on his back.

John walked over to tthe bed, picking up Sherlock's non IV clad hand and pressing it to his lips. "Sherlock, don't do this. Wake up. Please. Just wake up"

"I'll give you a minute alone" he barely hears Mycroft shut the door, still staring at Sherlock's eyelids, trying to detect any flickering, any sign of them opening. He leans over and kisses Sherlock's forhead, brushing his hair back. Somewhere, in the more deluded part of his mind, he'd imagined waking in and Sherlock waking up at the sound of his voice, like some cheesy romantic movie.

"Sherlock please." John didn't care how fruitless any of this was, he needed to talk to Sherlock, to try some way of connecting with him. "What do we do? You'd probably tell me off for being too soppy if you were awake" John laughs, wiping a tear that he headnt even realised was there. "And what kind of shit are you pullling, anyway? Drugs, Sherlock? Fucking cocaine? What is wrong with you? You know what that does to your brain? You know how much it'll fuck you up? Well, yes, obviously. You're in a fucking coma, you complete dick. Why, Sherlock? Why would you do it?" John's get angrier now, and almost hits out at Sherlock, his fist coming down on the bed instead "You fucking idiot." John sits down in a chair by the bed, putting his head in his hands, mumbling the word 'idiot' under his breath.

He still has Sherlock's hand in his, and it's cold. He warms it up between both of his then kisses it again. He turns, shouting towards the door "Mycroft, I know you said you didn't know when he'd wake up, but there must be some indication? An average?"

"They're hoping he'll awake within 24 hours, after that his chances of waking up go down significantly"

Mycroft was weirdly calm, reiterating the doctor's words as if he was a machine. Well, the calm was normal for Mycroft, just not for somone whose brother is in a coma. John thought he'd at least show some emotion, but that was probably too much for Mycroft.

John ends up sitting by Sherlock's bed for hours (the private hospital didn't have resticted visiting hours, thankfully) for hours. He's completely undisturped-Mycroft was busy interrogating doctors-, he spends the time alternating between shouting at Sherlock for being so stupid and telling him how much he loved him, endless soppy things he'd be too embarassed to say if Sherlock was awake.

Mycroft came in from berrating a specialist he's found, telling him his mum had been calling. Oh... It was 5pm, he's been there almost 4 hours. He would usually be home at 3ish, and his mother never usually minded that he was late. Maybe she knew about Sherlock already and was just worrying about him and how John had reacted. Mycroft probably had some way of telling her.

"I'll go phone her." He stands up, then hesitites, he hadn't let go off Sherlock's hand the whole time he's been there. "Uhm, shout me if he...if anything happens"

"Of course, John".

John runs out, going out of a door and into a small gardern. He takes out his phone, calms his worried mother a little, and tells her that he'll get a lift home from Mycroft. Like it was a normal conversation, and not about staying with his comatose boyfriend, his mum argued with him anout about coming home at an earlier time. "He is in a coma, Mum. I would sleep here but I know you would never allow it. I am staying as late as seems reasonable for me, even if I hate leaving at all. Don't try to do this"

"Fine, fine. Make sure you'll still be up for school though" John said bye as fast as he can then ran back in.

"Is he.." John had some hope, but nothing. Sherlock's still static in the bed. He sighed and sat down again, leant forward with his elbows on the bed. Mycroft is on the oppisite chair, and John tries to ignore him, talking to Sherlock quitely. He still felt compleletly stupid about it, but in films they say it's helpful, so he's going to do it whatever.

The call telling him to go home comes too soon and a car arrives to take him home. It's late and he just wants to go to bed, but he has homework to do. Anyway, sleeping is extremly unlikely.

After an argument, John agrees that he still needs to go to school then his mother agrees to take him to the hospital after. The first few hours are torteus, he can't concentrate on anything and people seem to have found out about Sherlock, and there are quite a few jokes which disgust John completely.

Then, he gets a call. He hadn't turned his phone off for this specific reason, just in case. His heart leapt and he answered it, walking out of the classroom and ignoring the teacher shouting at him

It was Mycroft, "John. You might want to come now, he's awake"Awake. Thank god. John can't help grinning at the words, but his expression is serious again at Mycroft's next words "I've sent a car. There's a slight issue that they believe will work itself out in a few days, but otherwise he's fine."

"What? Has he said anything? What is it?" John hears a commotion on the other line, not Sherlock but most likely something caused by him. "I have to go. I'll explain later" Mycroft hangs up without saying goodbye, very impolite for him. What the hell had happened? What's this issue? What had Sherlock done to himself?

John carries on down the corridor, apparently the teacher wasn't going to follow him, he headed to the reception and made some excuse about feeling ill. The receptionist didn't believe him and wouldn't let him go until he called his mother, schools seem to think that the parents will always know in situations like this, which is ridiculous. He ignores her and walks out anyway. The most he'll get is few days exclusion, and his record was relatively clean so hopefully this wouldn't be an issue.

"You cannot just leave the building. John Watson, get here now" the pudgy woman was at the door, but John ignored her, and jumped into the taxi just outside the school gates.

The driver set off as soon as he got in, and again the drive over to the hospital gave John time to think. Well, freak out. Of course, he was ecstatic that Sherlock was awake, that he would recover. That he could talk to him, but then what the hell had Mycroft been on about? An 'issue'? That could mean anything; Sherlock refusing the rehab, him refusing to stay in hospital at all, or genrally being awful to the staff. All the way up to brain damage, something meaning Sherlock couldn't talk, even paralysis. He tried calling Mycroft again, but nothing. Either he'd finally gotten told to turn his phone off or something had happened. The 'issue' had gotten worse.

Finally, finally the car pulled in to the hospital car park. John jumped out, paused slightly then realised he didn't have to pay, and ran straight through the coridoors and to Sherlock's door.

He could already hear him, Sherlock's voice was panicked. Sherlock never panicked. He would just think his way out of something, or be angry. He couldn't hear what he was saying but Sherlock almost sounded as if he was crying.

This can't be right, he must be hearing things. John opened the door then, and Sherlock's head turned to him, but his eyes are blank, looking away. And he was crying. What the fuck is happening? Mycroft was by the bed, looking at Sherlock with concern. John had imagined at least some greeting from Sherlock, even Sherlock demanding he come over for a kiss. "Who is it?" Sherlock shouts. What? Why didn't Sherlock know. What the- "Wait. Walk over to me, don't answer" Sherlock's voice was slightly calmer. John obeyed, still completely confused and stood by the bed. Sherlock's listens intently, then shakes his head. "I can't do it. I can't. This is ridiculous Mycroft. Please help me, please" Sherlock was begging. John feels a lump in his throat, then he gets it. The way Sherlock's staring off, why he'd need to listen, why he wouldn't know who John was. He was blind.

His Sherlock, so graceful- strangely someone so young. Sherlock, who's whole career path and everything he would ever need relied on his sight, who's sight and ability to deduce someone and know things that people wouldn't admit anyone from a glance defined who he was, had now lost his sight.

John opens his mouth to speak, letting out a small whimper in realisation, then Mycroft holds a finger up. "You will with practice. Walk again, please" he says to John. " You know them, Sherlock" Mycroft turns to him, then John does as he says. He moves to the other side of the bed, realising he's crying silently.

Sherlock, who could reduce someone to tears after just one look, could no longer see. This was so wrong. So very terrible, John couldn't take it. "John" Sherlock says, his voice quiet, he's unsure. That hurts too, Sherlock is always so sure he's right, and almost always is. John reaches out then hesitates, and Mycroft nods. "Yes, I'm here Sherlock. It's okay" he takes Sherlock hand and kisses his forehead. He's about to move away but Sherlock grabs his face, tracing over it with his thumb, "You're crying" Sherlock whispers, and leans his head against John's. "So are you"

"Yes, but I have reason to. I am incapeable of doing anything for myself, ever. I will not be able to deduce anyone, to do any experiments, to..." Sherlock chokes, and he can't speak anymore.

"But it could get better, couldn't it?" John sits on the bed, hugging Sherlock to him. He moves an IV still slipped into Sherlock's hand to the side as carefully as possible, but notices Sherlock wincing. Now is not the time to tell Sherlock he did all this to himself, he needs to comfort him, the shouting can wait. "And why do you need an IV, are you in pain? Can't you take pills or something?"

"I have a 12% chance of regaining my full sight, even with brain surgery. Mycroft is trying to find better surgeons right now." Sherlock says pointedly and Mycroft returns to his phone, leaving the room. "The IV is methadone, and considering the amount of cocaine I was taking this is the only way for it to properly enter my bloodstream and the fastest."

"Brain surgery?" John's surprised, and brain surgery is extremely dangerous.

"I can't see, John. I need to do everything I can to get my sight back" Sherlock's still hugging him tightly, his hands are on John's face, seemingly examining it.

"Alright, alright. I'm sure that Mycroft will find a way to make it safer. So you can't see at all?" John puts the question tentatively, afraid he'll spark something from Sherlock. The look Sherlock's giving him now, the complete emptiness, he could make John shiver with a look, his steely gaze set upon you could make anyone uncomfortable, even force them to admit things to him. And no he wasn;t able to

"Pitch black, that's it. I hate it" Sherlock's so stressed, so upset, so angry John hates that this happened to him-well, that he started taking cocaine and that he did this to himself- John just wants to help him in some way. Sherlock is sobbing now, properly breaking down. John turns and pulls Sherlock closer so he's almost sat in his lap Sherlock's body is convulsing with the sobs, and John's crying a little too, seeing Sherlock in so much pain is tearing at his heart. He stroked Sherlock's hair and wipes at his tears, then kissed him lightly.

"I'll be your eyes" John says simply, and Sherlock leans against his chest, burying his face in John's jumper. "How? You'll never see as I do"

"You can teach me"