Terrible Things

Disclaimer:I do not own D: All rights go to ACD, and Moffatiss, if they didn't then I'd be dead. And the title belongs to Mayday Parade and their amazing song

A/N: Oh hello I have coursework and other stories to be working on but I have been listening to Terrible Things by the amazing Mayday Parade on repeat and it prompted me to write this. I've been sent home from college cause I have a virusy thing and reviews would make me feel better :P ;) Listen to the song if you'd like you won't regret it It's probabably a way too long a story I'm sorry But I'd love to know what you think of it Oh and sorry if it's ooc, I tried. This will probably be posted in two parts hope that's okay

Enjoy!

Emm xx

1977

"Hey that's mine!" Six year old John Hamish Watson wailed, as two older and much bigger boys snatched the toy plane out of his hands.

"Well now it's ours." Came the guffaw of one of the boys, the bigger curly haired boy. John bit down on his lip hard; his mummy had told him that he had to be a big brave boy now that he was in year one. That meant that he had to share his toys with the other children even when he didn't want to.

"Okay," he whispered, doubting that they could even hear him as they ran off with his favourite aeroplane.

John could feel the tears starting to sting at the corners of his dark blue eyes. He knew he couldn't let his classmates see him cry, they would think he was a girl if he did. Slinking over to the other side of the small playground, he sat down underneath a large shady tree, tucking his knees to his chest and staring moodily out into the distance.

He just wanted to make a friend; he had never had one before. His older sister Harry had lots and lots of friends and she was always getting trouble for staying out late with them even though she was almost fourteen.

A shadow fell over John then and he looked up squinting into the sunlight to try and see properly .A boy, around his age but taller than John was standing scowling at him. He had dark curly hair and pale eyes that he found himself shrinking away from their intense gaze.

"You're lonely." The new boy stated confidently as he sat down next to the surprised sandy haired one. He reached down and plucked a blade of grass, twiddling it between his long pale fingers absent mindedly. "You are, aren't you? I can tell it in your eyes."

John blinked, was this strange boy expecting an answer? Maybe it was one of those questions that he didn't have to reply to. He shrugged his shoulders at this newfound companion; Pretty Eyes that would be his nickname, only to find that the scowl had deepened.

"You don't have to hide it from me. I know how it feels, I'm lonely too. My brother says it's because nobody wants to be friends with me because they're scared of my cleverness."

"I'll be your friend!" John blurted out, his face blushing crimson as Pretty Eyes turned to him once again, wary and hopeful. "I-I mean if you want me to be, I'd like to be your friend please?"

He smiled slightly as Pretty Eyes' cheeks coloured slightly as well. Perhaps he was embarrassed John thought fondly. Pretty Eyes opened his mouth to say something but the bell signalling the end of lunchtime rang suddenly cutting him off. He stood up, brushing pieces of grass and dirt off of his smart black trousers.

"Same time, tomorrow." He stated abruptly before turning to walk towards the school building.

"Wait!" John yelled, hurrying to his feet as well, "my name's John! What's yours?"

Pretty Eyes turned in his direction and shot the shorter child a half smirk, the one that mummy told him he shouldn't really give to people. "Nice to meet you John, I'm Sherlock."

1987

"Sherlock, open the door!" John pounded at the wood, angrily ignoring the tears that were gathering and letting them fall down his cheeks instead. He had ran all of the twenty minute journey from his house to his best friend's mansion and now Sherlock wouldn't even bloody let him in!

"Go away," Sherlock's reply was short and petulant, and really John didn't expect anything less from the sixteen year old ignorant genius.

The one person that meant a lot more to John than his own life was furious with him and he didn't even know why… No, but maybe he did know, he just didn't want to think about it. This was completely his father's fault, not that he thought Sherlock was likely to believe that but he had to try to make him understand

"Please, let me in, we need to talk about this." John was fighting hard at keeping the tone of his voice calm and controlled when really he wanted to punch his fist through the solid barrier separating them.

"John Watson, I will call security if you don't leave in five minutes."

"And I'll just call Mycroft and tell him you're being an insufferable twat!"

"ME?" The door flung open so violently it made the hinges quiver in fear as John stood inches away from the incensed teenager. His hair was sticking up wildly and his angry eyes were rimmed with red as if… As if he'd been crying. "You are so fucking obtuse. I saw you two kissing!"

"W-What? Who?" John stuttered, he had never seen Sherlock like this in all of the ten years that they had been friends. Sherlock had seen John cry before of course but it had never been the other way around.

"Mary Morstan," Sherlock spat out, eyes flashing dangerously as he snorted humourlessly. "You don't remember? This afternoon, behind the bike shed, hardly an original rendezvous spot now is it?"

John shook his head in disbelief, why would Sherlock care about John kissing Mary? He had never shown even any platonic interest in her let alone romantic, unless- "Oh."

"Oh? Is it all coming flooding back to you all of a sud-MMMMPH!"

John launched himself forward into Sherlock's personal space, using the doorframe to support his weight as he pressed his lips forcefully against the other's shocked ones. He waited patiently for Sherlock to respond to the kiss. He did not, however expect to be greeted with such enthusiasm. Sherlock's lips parted slightly, allowing John's tongue entry and they battled for dominance. It was messy and slightly awkward feeling but God it was wonderful.

John pulled back slightly, giggling nervously at Sherlock's dazed expression. "Not so obtuse now, am I? He whispered seductively, as he brushed their noses together.

Sherlock tilted his head, scrutinizing John slightly before grinning widely. The smile he only used for John, the person who was standing before him, the one who had gave him the best first kiss he could have ever wished for.

"No," he agreed, pulling the blond closer by the sleeve of his hideous sleeve and pressing his mouth to the side of John's strong jaw. "No, I suppose not."

1997

Sherlock wasn't home yet, not that John was worried. He wasn't one of those paranoid housewives who always assumed the worst when their husband was ten minutes late home from work. In this partnership it was the other way around; Sherlock was more likely to be concerned about John. Sherlock was incredibly street smart and he'd never let anybody take him for granted, he had proved that enough times. He smiled to himself as he pictured Sherlock beating a group of hooligans to the floor single-handedly.

Just as John was putting the kettle on, the front door of their flat opened surprisingly quietly, Sherlock always liked to make an entrance. This was why John jumped back about a foot when he turned to see his lover standing in the middle of the living room.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked once he had regained his breath and his heartbeat had returned to its regular rhythm. "Do you want a cuppa as well?"

"No." Sherlock's voice was filled with forced politeness and John narrowed his eyes at him when he gestured for John to sit on the couch. "Please? We need to talk."

Well that's always lovely to hear John thought as he obeyed reluctantly, sinking down into the worn fabric. "What's going on Sherlock? You look like you're about to faint or something."

Sherlock inhaled a deep shaky breath and placed a hand on John's knee to stop himself from collapsing into his soul mate weakly.

"I- I've just been to the hospital to see my doctor."

"Right…" John didn't like the sound of that. "And?"

"I need to tell you something John, and I know how you're going to react, I won't be able to bear it thinking that you're sad because of what's about to happen .. B-But we agreed there'd be no secrets and I've kept this to myself for long enough."

"Sherlock! Stop it you're really worrying me now, just tell me what the hell is wrong with you!"

Sherlock breathed again and then locked his eyes onto John's, soul-searching at their best, he knew that John had got the message, when the blood drained from the permanent rosy cheeks and dark blue orbs filled with despair and an emotion that could only be described as hope that this had to be a sick sick joke of Sherlock's.

"No.. No, NO!"

"I know John but it's true"

"You're… You're dying?"

A/N: So first part done I'd really like to know what you think, good? Bad? It may help me motivate myself to write the final part ;) xx