Sherlock's POV:
Sherlock stumbled slightly and was rather unceremoniously dumped onto a soft bed. His head was still hazy but he could now feel his full mental capacity coming back. Sherlock looked around the room. Clean room, almost military, drilled into him from a young age. Military family, obvious, Christian obvious, dysfunctional… yes. A picture of John with his arms around an older girl, Sister, a phone on the bedside table, scratches around the charger slot, engraving on the back. A gift, not for John, who is Harry, father, unlikely, the sister, Harry... Harriet? Alcoholic obviously, estranged from family most likely, Clara unlikely to be a friend so girlfriend. Gay? Must run in the family. Estranged for her alcoholism which happened after the split from Clara. Alcoholism attributed to her lack of suitable romantic partner. No wonder he doesn't want people to know he is gay. Raised by a single mother from a young age, maybe 7 or 8, old enough not to hold her beliefs but young enough to see her as their sole guardian. So… dad left young? No. John has no problems with authority or older males so no lingering effects from a missing father. So dead? The military stance he holds looks to be a lifelong habit so not something he started since deciding to join the military. So most likely answer John's father died approximately 10 years ago while serving his country.
The only question was...
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock queried.
"Uh... What?" John was rightfully stumped by the question. He paused from his rummaging through his first aid kit to look up at Sherlock.
"Your dad, was it Afghanistan or Iraq?"
"What, how... How did you know about dad?" the sentence was choked out. So it was still a touchy subject Sherlock thought.
"Military sheets, clean tidy personality and you tend to stand in parade stance. You don't have any pictures of your parents and it is obvious you were brought up religiously and with a women's touch. The scented soaps and fluffy jumpers. So no father but an attraction to the military regime. He must have died what 9, 10 years ago? So Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock deduced quickly.
"Afghanistan... That was bloody brilliant, bit creepy but amazing. How did you know all that stuff?" Johns face lit up which took Sherlock back for a moment. No one, not even mummy had said his deductions were amazing. Mycroft put up with them at best and everyone else hated them and him. John had heard him make deductions before, when he was bored or someone was particularly annoying him but never had he deduced John out loud. He was admittedly nervous of his reaction, brilliant was not what he expected form the Footy captain.
"I... That's not what most people say" Sherlock looked down awkwardly not ready to admit to the boy that most people hate him. He didn't know why he cared what John thought of him. Sentiment. Stupid.
"What do most people say?" John prompts him.
"Piss off mostly." Sherlock laughed dryly and without humour.
Johns face cracked though and soon enough he was laughing hysterically form his place kneeling between Sherlock's legs.
"Well, I am not most people Sherlock. Now let's get that bruising looked at. I think I have some cream that will help with it and I need to clean the cut above your eye. Don't want it getting infected." John got up and went to the adjoining bathroom, returning with a wet cloth.
John had cleaned up all the blood and rubbed some funny smelling cream into the bruises around Sherlock's neck and on his jaw. Sherlock for the most part just sat there in his mind palace trying his hardest the not react to the touch. His whole childhood had consisted of less physical contact than this so he was feeling off kilter by John's soft touches and quiet murmuring. John really would make a fine doctor. His bedside manner was exquisite and his hands held just the right amount of pressure to be comforting without hurting his bruised skin.
Sherlock was quietly organising the new room he had made in his mind palace labelled John which since first seeing the boy had expanded from a corner room to a whole wide space crammed full of everything John.
"Come on Sherlock I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your ribs." John's words broke through to Sherlock and he jerked out of his trance to see John's hands at the buttons of his white school shirt which was stained horribly with dirt and blood. Sherlock started to panic.
"Their fine not broken you really don't have to." Sherlock argued feebly. John couldn't see him without his shirt on, then he would know and he wouldn't want to talk to Sherlock or touch Sherlock anymore. Sherlock was just starting to like being in John's presence, never in his life had he wanted to spend time with someone just to be in their presence. Sherlock couldn't lose that.
"Sherlock you can't know that if you don't let me check. I know you probably already deduced I'm gay and I promise this isn't a trick to see you shirtless. I do however want to make sure you are completely fine. So please can I check your ribs?" Sherlock couldn't let him. He couldn't John would notice he knew he would. Plus no one had seen him shirtless since Victor. He just shook his head violently not even able to voice his thoughts. The panic was rising up in him now and flashes of memories were forcing their way to the forefront of his mind.
Take them off Sherly
No wonder no one wants to be with you Sherly.
Stupid little Sherly.
Sherlock was floored unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to tear his mind away from the taunting images in his head. He needed a hit, but everything was in his room, he needed his drugs in blade anything. Sherlock's body caught up with his mind and before John could protest he was sprinting down the hall and out of the building towards his own dorm room.
John's POV:
Sherlock had just left. He just up and left, running for his life like John was some kind of pedophile who wanted to attack him. John was utterly confused by Sherlock's reaction and try as he might to convince himself it wasn't his fault, it just wasn't in John's nature to not shoulder the blame. He had pushed the kid, and as John did he realized just how young and fragile Sherlock actually was. John was one of the oldest kids in his grade already being 18 but he often forgot that Sherlock was so much younger than him. John mentally kicked himself as he lay down on the bed Sherlock had previously been sitting on and resigned himself to apologizing when he saw him tomorrow in math's.
Although he next day came and went and Sherlock didn't attend a single class and when John went to ask Mike if he had seen him he said Sherlock hadn't been in his physics or English class either. No one had seen the boy all day and that was when John started to worry although his worry turned into full blown panic when Sherlock missed both the morning math and afternoon chemistry class the two days later.
John had run out of patience and did something he would not normally do. He went to the library. He knew, form mike that Sherlock spent a great deal of time in the Library and maybe John would find him there or at least someone who could tell John where he was. John felt so out of place walking in, all eyes seemed to follow him but when he turned to look the occupants all had their heads in books or newspapers reading. John made his way to an underclassman who was around Sherlock's age he assumed. This was the person Mike had told him to talk to. Molly Hooper he had said. She is Sherlock's biggest fan, always knows his comings and goings. Which was sort of creepy if you asked John but he guessed it was okay if it told him where he could find Sherlock.
"Um, Excuse me Molly?" John asked awkwardly in a hushed whisper.
"Oh, sorry I get caught up in my reading sometimes. What c-can I help you with." Molly looked up at John, motioning for him to take the seat next to him. She wore
"I'm looking for Sherlock. Do you know where I can find him?" John asked
"Oh, well if you're just trying to pick on him. I can't help you. You're all the same you know just because he's a little different doesn't mean he's a freak or whatever you guys all call him. He isn't." Molly was practically yelling and all eyes were suddenly on them.
"Molly I'm not… I'm not going to make fun of him or tease him or anything. Sherlock's my friend. I'm just worried because he hasn't been to classes for a few days. I just want to check and make sure everything is alright. I'm worried." John gives Molly his most sincere smile.
"Oh well he hasn't left his room for a few days. I don't know why. He just text me the other day to ask me to get his homework and leave it by the door."
"Oh well can you tell me where is room is. I really do wanna check to see if he is okay." John gave her another winning smile and placed a hand over hers to show his sincerity.
"Oh okay. His room is 221B Baker Hall. The fancy one you know. Make sure he's okay and don't tell him I told you." Molly went back to her book.
Baker hall is like a mansion. I didn't know anyone who lived here it was the posh gits who usually had their dorm rooms here paid for by mummy and Daddy. Sherlock didn't seem like the type of kid who had money. Well obvious that he did because of his clothes but he never once flaunted the fact. The rooms were more like little apartments with a small kitchen and living area connected to a bedroom bigger than his whole room and bathroom attached. He only knew because he had longingly looked at them when he had first been deciding which dorm to stay in. They looked like a palace compared to his but then he didn't think he could stand living with such posh gits. Also he definitely couldn't afford them. He could barely afford his rent as it was.
John was greeted by an elderly lady who introduced herself as Mrs Hudson when he walked into Baker Hall.
"I'm err. Looking for 221B?" He asked nervously. The woman just assessed him before giving him a warm smile.
"Ah yes, Sherlock, he never gets visitors. So nice to see he has friends. Should I be getting you tea or maybe a light snack? You of course will be staying for dinner I assume." Mrs Hudson talked excitedly.
"Umm I'm not sure mam I just want to see Sherlock he wasn't in class today."
"Oh yes, he's been sick, up all night sleeping all day. That boy needs to sort himself out. I'm just glad his brother sent him here first. He needs some caring that's all. Right this way." Mrs. Hudson bustled up a set of stairs motioning for John to follow her. John frowned at her comment. What was with Sherlock's brother? What was with Sherlock? John filed these comments away for later evaluation. Right now he had to make sure Sherlock was alright. When they were in front of 221B Mrs Hudson unlocked the door and called out for Sherlock who groaned form his position on the couch. Arm thrown over his head a blue dressing gown wrapped around his body. There was paper everywhere books strewn across the floor and something bubbling away on the stove which smelt a bit like dirty socks.
"Sherlock your friend is here to see you. I'll just leave you two to it." Mrs Hudson gave John a little wink which just confused John even more.
"I don't have friends," Was Sherlock's muffled call after her. He didn't even look up or move.
"Sherlock?" John questioned which got a reaction from the other man. He scrambled up from his half curled up position on the leather couch to face John. His eyes red rimmed like he had been crying or form lack of sleep John didn't know.
"Why… Why are you here?" Sherlock cleared his throat pulling at the arms of his robe so they covered his hands just the tip of his fingers sticking out.
"I wanted to check on you. You haven't been to class and..." John trailed off.
"Obviously I haven't been to class these bruises would have been hard to explain away." Sherlock waved his hand towards his neck and face.
"Oh yeah. Of course. I just…" John trailed off again. Not really sure why he was worried after all.
"Is that all?" Sherlock stated in a bored sounding voice.
"Oh yeah. Just wanted to make sure we are cool. So yeah." John cursed inwardly.
"Yes John we are, how you say, cool. I'm sorry for my abrupt leaving the other day. I uh, it happens sometimes. I'm sorry for upsetting you." John's eyes went wide. He had never heard Sherlock apologise before. Not when he made Susan cry in chemistry nor when he John had to hold Jason off Sherlock in the hallway when he had run into him. Never when Sherlock had been annoying or deduced something nasty without realising it. But here he was apologising for upsetting John. It somehow warmed John's heart.
"Don't worry. I pushed you too hard. It's okay to be uncomfortable. I get caught up in things like that." John offers.
"It's okay John." Sherlock is still standing there awkwardly and John takes pity on the younger boy.
"Do you want to go get something to eat? Your… Whatever Mrs Hudson is, asked if I was going to stay for Dinner and I don't know about you but I don't wanna have dinner with these posh wankers." John chuckled to himself at the surprise and delight on Sherlock's face.
"Uh yeah just let me get dressed." Sherlock hurried off before stopping and looking back at him his cheeks flushed slightly and walking towards his bedroom at a more subdued pace.