John
"I'm doing great Mr. Holmes. This is my Husband and my son John."
Right before Mr. Holmes was going to speak, a tall, lengthy curly haired fellow walked up beside him, along with an even taller, older looking young man. The man was dressed in an all-black suit; his chest was showing and his hair, tucked behind his ears, curled down his neck.
He stared me up and down, I felt his gaze penetrate me, looking into my soul almost.
"Ah Sherlock, Mycroft right on time; this is my secretary Mrs. Watson, her husband and their son John," We shook our hands, going on with the party. I stood next to a table, drinking this red drinks from the table.
"Hello," His deep, accented voice almost scared the young man to death, if it weren't for the smile after the casual greeting.
"Hi, Sherlock, right?" The man was standing beside me, I sat my drink down and I glanced at him.
"Would you like to talk in the back for little bit, John?" I drank my red juice again; I noticed it tasted kind of weird. "I don't think so, I feel sort of bad, why don't we return to the party for a bit; it'll both of us good," My head start to hurt, then the room is spinning around me, I clutched the wall support; but there wasn't.
I'm fading in and out, one minute I'm being carried to back room, the other I'm being laid down on a bed. I looked foot of the bed and there's Sherlock standing at the foot of the bed.
I was too out of it realizing he was taking off his clothes; mine were being pulled off as kisses trailed down my hip and that we were going to sex. If I know how it was going to turn out, I would run a long time ago.
I would've run far away.
My body was aching, I felt dirty, almost disgusting.
I wake up with my head throbbing and myself, naked. Wait, why the hell was I naked? I see that another person is beside me sleeping. I turn to see the man I rejected last night, Sherlock.
My mother's Bosses' son.
Dear god.
This why I don't go out; I think to myself, automatically, I look at the sheets and around the room.
There were three used condoms on the floor leading to the bathroom, out clothes scatter across the floor.
Oh no.
The bastard took my virginity; I then looked at a bottle of pills on the nightstand. I reach over, take the bottle and smelled them. It smelt like how drink was last night when it tasted funny last night.
I put two and two together, gasping.
He drugged me?
I stared at the man as he stirred in the spot next to me "Hello," The deep, striking voice chilled my spine and persuaded my eyes to stare him more. He had bed hair, but it was the good kind, like his was messed up from... sex. It was long, almost wavy at the roots.
I didn't say a thing to him. I quickly rose from my spot, dodging to get my underwear and tuxedo pants. A quick arm stopped me; I looked over him with fear in my eyes, intense fear. His dark eyes scanned my body, and then stopped at my face.
"S-Sherlock?"
"Holmes," He takes a pause and looks at me.
"Call me Sherlock Holmes, luv.
My eyes flickered at his lips and his face.
"Mr. Holmes, I'm leaving, for good. Don't worry I won't tell a soul." I run, now fully dressed, away from him; when I'm a good distance, I call my mom and I tell her what happened; or at least that I was drunk and that I woke up in the dance hall by a cleaner.
I wouldn't dare tell her I was drugged by her bosses' son.
My parents, but they were glad I was okay.
But I wasn't.
I had turned seventeen just three months ago and I was late freshman in high-school. I could imagine anyone being interested my body, none the less take my virginity.
I had to forget that horrible night.
Maybe if I forget it, he will too, right?
Sherlock
He runs, quickly, away from me; away from my touch.
I can remember last night clearly; the way he whimpered under my body, how he wrapped his legs around my waist.
Sweat dripping down him body after climax.
I wanted her, so why didn't she me too?
I didn't understand him but maybe he'll understand me. I reach over at my nightstand, picking up my cell and my towel. I dialed a number and held it up to my ear as I stared at him getting into a cab down the street.
"Lestrade, I need to ask of a favor from you."