Chapter Summary:

Back at the flat, John tries to get Sherlock to eat some dinner before they cuddle up for bed.

Dinner and Bedtime

Sherlock found the more time he spent with John the more confused he was becoming. It hadn't even been 24 hours since the doctor bought him, but already Sherlock was feeling disoriented. When they had arrived back at John's flat, a nice little place in downtown London, the landlady had greeted them at the door. Mrs. Hudson John had introduced her as. She was surprised that John had came home with an actual hybrid, but she welcomed him in and patted his head like Sherlock was some little school boy. John had shown him around, living room, kitchen, bathroom, John's bedroom, and then to Sherlock's utter dismay, his owner had told Sherlock that he can use a spare bedroom that was available upstairs. Never in his life had Sherlock recalled having a room of his own, he was a bedroom pet and trained as such, the most space he got for himself was a cage when he misbehaved. But John had dug out some bedsheets, pillows and a duvet for him, putting them in the spare bedroom, now to be Sherlock's. The thought of sleeping alone was slightly frightening, perhaps John would permit him to at least sleep in the living room if he didn't want Sherlock in his bedroom, the hybrid thought to himself and made a note to ask once bedtime arrived.

For now, however, Sherlock sat on the floor in the living room, organizing some files John had give him as a way to keep busy. He could hear John bustling about in the kitchen making dinner and the smell of food wafted through the air. Sherlock's stomach gave a rumbling growl, a reminder that he hadn't been given anything to eat since the day before. On an empty stomach he was easier to control, not having as much energy to fight back, it was a common tactic sellers used when they were prepping their merchandise for display. He looked down and rubbed at his stomach, now covered by an oversized shirt John had lent to him. The doctor had promised they would go shopping tomorrow for some clothes for Sherlock which had earned him another stare from the hybrid. His previous owner had simply preferred him naked at all times, but apparently John had no such intentions. Gently, he brushed his fingers over the collar at his throat, letting his mind go over all the things he knew about his new owner now. The man seemed to catch him off guard at every turn and Sherlock wondered if John even realizes how strange his behaviour is to a hybrid meant to be a pet.

"Sherlock, come and eat, dinner's ready," John's voice called from the kitchen.

Hurriedly, Sherlock stacked up the files he hadn't managed to organize yet and headed to the kitchen. John was already sitting by the table with a plate of pasta in front of him. Another plate was set across from the doctor and Sherlock paused, looking between the second plate to John. Logic would dictate that that plate was meant for Sherlock, but Sherlock's conditioning dictated that he had no place at his owner's table. Wordlessly, the hybrid slid to his knees beside John's seat, keeping his eyes on the floor.

John made a shocked little cough as his eyes widened.

"Sherlock? You..."

The hybrid's hands clenched into fists in his lap, feeling humiliation rise in him, but this was what he was supposed to do.

John got up from his chair and knelt down beside his hybrid. Gently, he brushed his fingers through the soft, dark hair.

"Sherlock, you don't have to kneel here, come and eat dinner."

Sherlock shook his head frantically. Hybrids are lower than humans, that was the way it was. That was why they're supposed to crawl, to remain physically lower than their owners. At no time were they supposed to be equal to those who owned them. John had already been so lenient, but this, sitting at the same table and eating the same food, he couldn't.

John stayed still for a few moments, trying to coax him to get up. When he realized it wasn't going to happen, he sighed. Standing up, he grabbed the two plates along with the forks and sat himself down on the floor in front of Sherlock, pushing one plate to the hybrid.

"OK, fine. If you won't get up then we'll both sit on the floor to eat."

Sherlock's eyes grew so wide it was almost comical. He stared open mouthed at John, who just grinned back at him. The doctor took a bite of the pasta, all the while watching Sherlock who seemed frozen and unable to move. After a few minutes of staring, John picked up some pasta with his fork and brought it to Sherlock's mouth.

"Sherlock, eat some. I swear, it doesn't taste that bad."

Obediently, Sherlock opened his mouth and accepted the food. He chewed and swallowed as if on autopilot, but he couldn't help licking his lips at the taste. The food tasted so much better than the hybrid feed he had always been given before. He had always yearned for human food, the smell was always so enticing, but Sherlock had learned early on that stealing food from his owner's plate would not be tolerated. The few times he tried he had been starved for days as punishment. Yet here was John, actually feeding him the same food the doctor's eating as if it was the most common thing in the world.

The doctor smiled and took another bite himself.

"Edible?"

Sherlock's tail twitched as he nodded, fighting the urge to ask for more. It didn't matter anyway since John continued alternating between eating himself and feeding Sherlock. The hybrid was so slim that his the indentation of his ribs could be seen when he didn't have the shirt earlier, and John was determined to fix that.

Soon, both plates were empty and John stood up, taking them to the sink to be washed later. He filled two glasses with some water and brought one back for Sherlock, handing it to the hybrid.

"You've got some bruises, don't you? Will you let me have a look at them?" John asked as he watched Sherlock gulp down the water.

Sherlock's ears perked up as he gave the glass back.

"You don't have to...they'll heal soon enough, they're not that serious."

John put the glasses on the table as he ran his hand through Sherlock's hair once more, taking the time to scratch gently behind his ears. Immediately Sherlock leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering as his mouth opened a bit in a soft gasp. That felt nice, lovely. John watched, amused at the sudden change and made a note to do this more often.

"Maybe not, but I'd still like to have a look to be sure, if you'll let me?"

Sherlock wasn't about to argue so he nodded. John's hand moved lower, brushing the hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing softly. Sherlock mewled without meaning to, leaning further and further forward until his head ended up resting on John's shoulder. Blinking in realization that he had touched his owner without permission, he quickly tried to straighten himself, but John brought his other hand up and kept him in place. He worked his fingers down, feeling the first joints of Sherlock's spine, then over towards the hybrid's shoulder, frowning at how tense the muscles were. Sherlock was almost purring at the attention, his eyes having slid shut as he practically buried his face against John.

Suddenly, a burst of pain blossomed through the hybrid and he hissed, jerking back out of his reverie as his ears flattened against his head. Immediately, John removed his hands, eyes apologetic.

"Sorry, sorry, did I touch a bruise?"

Not waiting for a response, John stood up and pulled Sherlock up with him, leading him towards the living room and motioning towards the sofa.

"Let's have a look, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and tugged the shirt off, kneeling down on the floor in front of the sofa. John stood unmoving, feeling a sense of sadness fill him as he wondered if he will ever convince Sherlock that it's OK to actually not behave like a pet. Sighing softly to himself, the short haired man stepped over to his hybrid and put a hand under his chin, making him look up into John's eyes.

"Sherlock, sit on the sofa, OK? That...the lighting's better, easier for me to see," he grasped at a reason to convince Sherlock to get off the floor, and apparently it worked as the dark haired hybrid slowly rose and scooted onto the soft cushions. John smiled in approval as he sat down too, his eyes scanning over Sherlock's torso. A few spots he could see the slight darkening of bruises hidden under makeup, gently he ran his hands over the smooth skin, careful not to press too hard. Sherlock's breath stuttered a few times and John took mental notes as to the locations and the severity of the injuries.

"They...they refrained from breaking the skin since they were selling me. It's all just internal injuries, not as bad as usual," Sherlock's voice was detached as he relayed the information.

John grimaced, wishing he had thrown a few punches the seller's way before they left.

"Is it very painful? I can give you some painkillers if you'd like."

Sherlock shook his head, his tail wrapping around John's wrist like it had in the cab.

"It's fine, I'm fine."

John finished the check up and took a deep breath. Bruised ribs on the left, also behind the right shoulder, near his kidneys as well as his stomach, most likely from being kicked. They had been careful not to touch his face. The doctor reached up and cupped the hybrid's face with his hands, turning his head so that their eyes met.

"Listen, Sherlock, as long as you're here, no one's going to hurt you. I know you might not believe me, but I guarantee it. If anyone ever dares to try, I will break every one of their fingers."

Sherlock trembled slightly at the steely look in John's eyes. So far, his owner had been nothing but gentle and kind, but now Sherlock can see the hardened soldier that lurked beneath. Unsure of what to say, he just nodded. It's still too early to tell how faithful John will be to his word, but at the very least he hasn't experienced any pain so far and that can't be a bad sign.

Leaning in, John gave him another hug, careful of his bruises.

"It's late, why don't you go take a bath and then get ready for bed. I'm sure you're tired."

Unexpectedly, Sherlock found he didn't want to move from John's embrace. The thought of leaving the man's presence made him feel empty. His tail tightened, holding onto John almost desperately as his eyes darted around nervously. Spending a night all alone, no, no he didn't like that idea, he wanted to be near John, John felt safe.

The doctor was startled at the sudden grip the furry tail had on his wrist. It tightened enough to almost constrict the blood flow and John looked down at the hybrid in his arms with concern.

"Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, Sherlock."

The hybrid shook his head slightly, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the doctor's waist and holding on.

"I...please...please don't leave me alone, s...John," he swallowed the title that had almost slipped out, remembering that John didn't like to be called 'sir'.

Understanding flooded the doctor's eyes and his arms tightened around Sherlock.

"It's OK, it's OK...if you don't want to be alone, then you don't have to be."

They stayed for a few minutes, both unwilling to move. Slowly, John pulled back a bit so he can see Sherlock's face.

"Do you want me to help you take a bath then? Some warm water will help you relax, and we should wash off this makeup they smeared on you, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded his head and followed when John stood up, leading them to the bathroom.

...

...

Thirty minutes later, John pulled a freshly washed Sherlock from the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around his waist and another one draped over his shoulders. Now with nothing to camouflage his injuries, the bruises stood out clearly, patches of purple and black against the pale skin. His scars were more prominent as well, some faint from age, others still bright red across his back.

John turned to head into his bedroom, but Sherlock's tug on his hand made him stop and look questioningly at the hybrid.

"Um...I can sleep in the living room, I'll be quiet."

The shorter man raised an eyebrow uncomprehendingly.

"Why would you sleep in the living room? If you don't want to be alone, then it's OK to sleep in my bedroom. We'll just sleep, I promise."

Sherlock shook his head, afraid that John had misunderstood his reason for not wanting to go into John's room.

"You don't want me in your bed, you gave me my own bedroom. The living room is fine."

John looked at Sherlock, then to his bedroom, then back again. He reached up and once more carded his fingers through the newly dried hair, rubbing over the fluffy ears.

"I don't mind sharing my bed, I just thought you would have preferred your own. It's up to you, but you really don't have to sleep in the living room when there are two perfectly good beds you can use."

He waited and watched as Sherlock looked undecided between the living room and John's bedroom. His tail flicked about behind him as he weighed his options. Usually he loathed the bedroom, it was a place where bad things happened. Whatever happened behind the closed bedroom door went unseen from the world which meant owners had free reign over hybrids in there, even more so than usual. His previous owner had kept his cage in the bedroom room, a constant reminder that he can lock Sherlock up in there any time he pleased.

Finally, he took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers firmly around John's hand, shuffling closer to his owner. John smiled and gently guided him into his room, sitting him down on the edge of the bed before going to his closet.

"Hm, I'm afraid I don't really have anything that will fit you. There's just this dressing gown, one of my ex-girlfriends gave it to me."

John pulled out a long robe, the material was fluffy and looked soft, pale blue with cartoonish pictures of hedgehogs all over it. The doctor looked at Sherlock almost apologetically, but the hybrid just smiled a bit and shrugged out of the towels, slipping into the gown. On Sherlock, it only came up mid thigh, but it was warm and smelled like John which the hybrid found calming. His tail curved out from the bottom, rubbing against the material. He didn't really care if he wore anything to bed, more than used to being naked, but if John insisted.

The doctor pulled back the duvet and fluffed up the pillows while Sherlock stood by the bed, feeling a little nervous. Usually he's allowed on the bed only when his owner wants to be pleasured, otherwise he's either on the floor or in his cage. If he performs especially well, his owner might permit him to spend the night at the foot of the bed, but those times were rare. John looked at him expectantly but Sherlock was completely at a loss. His eyes flickered between the bed, John and the floor, knowing what the doctor wants, but ever fibre of his being telling him it's not OK, he's not allowed, he can't. After a few minutes of silence, John's brow furrowed and he stepped towards Sherlock, reaching out to take his hands.

"Sherlock? What is it?"

The hybrid allowed the touch to steady him, licking his lips.

"I'm...not supposed to...not allowed to...," he made a motion towards the bed, "I should sleep on the floor."

John blinked, wanting to laugh at how absurd it is, biting his lip so he doesn't give voice to it. A perfectly nice bed in front of him and Sherlock thinks John's going to let him sleep on the floor.

"Sherlock, the floor is hard and cold, hardly comfortable for sleeping. The bed's more than accommodating for two people. And I should warn you, if you insist on sleeping on the floor, then I'm sleeping on the floor too."

The hybrid made a startled squeak, looking at John with alarm. No, no, he can't allow the doctor to spend a night on the floor, that's unthinkable. Quickly, he hurried onto the soft mattress as John pulled the duvet up over him. It was so soft, Sherlock felt the mattress mold to his body and his muscles relax, sinking down. His ears flicked on the pillows as he rubbed his nose in the fabric, smelling John in everything.

The doctor smiled as he watched, leaning down and brushing a few stray curls from his forehead.

"I'm just going to wash up and change, OK?"

Sherlock nodded and his eyes followed the shorter man as he pulled out his own pajamas and headed back into the bathroom. Left alone, Sherlock carefully stretched himself out, letting out a short burst of soft laughter as he realized just how big the bed was, and that he didn't have to curl up in just a corner. His ears listened to the sound of running water through the closed bathroom door, taking comfort in that fact that John's just on the other side.

He looked around the room noting how sparsely decorated it was. Everything was neat and clean, a habit left over from John's army days no doubt. A clock on the bedside table, a calender on the wall with only a note every week for meetings with his therapist. There was a small desk in front of a window with a laptop and lamp on it. A dresser stood beside the door to a closet, otherwise the room was bare.

Sherlock wondered if he would have a place here, in John's life, or if he's going to turn out to be a temporary addition to the room. The thought made him curl up under, his tail wrapping around himself as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. No, he didn't want to be temporary, he wanted to stay. John's voice didn't make him quiver with fear, his touch didn't equal pain or injuries, he didn't stink of alcohol and cologne, poured on to mask the smell of drugs and cigarettes. Sherlock fingered over his now bared neck, remembering his collar. After the bath John had insisted he doesn't put it back on, having noticed that the leather band was too thick and cut into the soft flesh of Sherlock's throat. He had promised they'll go get a collar with a slimmer band tomorrow, something Sherlock can pick for himself.

The door connecting the bedroom to the bathroom opened and John stepped through, dressed in a t-shirt and long pajama bottoms. Sherlock's ears turned towards the man as he turned off the lights, climbed up onto the bed and slipped under the duvet. He kept a careful distance from Sherlock, keeping to his side of the bed, but he turned so they faced each other. The soft light from the window allowed them to see each other in the darkness, and Sherlock leaned his head forward, hoping John will pet him again, and the doctor gave a soft chuckle, complying to the unspoken request. His fingers lightly pressed and massaged at the base of Sherlock's ears, stroking over the soft fur.

Soon, a low noise rumbled up from Sherlock's side of the bed and John blinked in surprise, suddenly realizing that the hybrid was actually purring. His eyes were closed, head nudging up against the doctor's hand and John wasn't sure Sherlock even realized he was doing it, but without a doubt that was a purr. Unable to resist, John dipped his head and pressed his lips against Sherlock's forehead. Immediately, the hybrid's eyes snapped open and he stared at John who felt a slight moment of panic, unsure if perhaps he had made the hybrid uncomfortable.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean.."

His apologies were cut off when Sherlock wiggled closer, tucking himself under John's chin. His heart was pounding, praying he won't be punished for this bold behaviour. John hadn't given him explicit permission to touch, but if Sherlock read the signs right, that kiss on his forehead had meant John wasn't adverse to physical contact with him. Without thinking, John wrapped his arms around his hybrid and pulled him close, burying his nose in the dark curls. His hand continued its petting, the other hand running down Sherlock's back soothingly.

"You're going to be OK, you're safe now."

John's voice was soft, a mere whisper, as if reassuring Sherlock as well as himself. It hasn't even been twenty four hours since they met, but somehow he found something in Sherlock he needed, yearned for. He's determined to protect the hybrid from anymore pain and abuse, something Sherlock had clearly been subjected to far too much already.

Sherlock snuggled into John, his eyes sliding shut. For the first time in his life, he felt comfortable, safe, possibly...content? John's words sparked something in him that Sherlock thought had died so long ago, or maybe he just never had it. Too tired to think anymore, Sherlock pushed it to the back of his mind to be pondered over another day.

CHAPTER 2 END

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