Sorry! I'm really late - I know. I've just been busy with schoolwork and stuff, so this is kind of part one for the third chapter. I'll see you next tuesday ^.^
(Oh, and reviews are much appreciated!)
"Come here, John."
John glanced around for a possible exit, his eyes darting quickly to a flight of stairs he must have missed before. He had to think quick. If he ran straight towards it, Sherlock would most definitely catch and stop him. He turned his head to get a back view and saw the bed he was violated on before. He knew how to get out of here.
John yelled as loud as he could while running towards the bed, hoping to surprise Sherlock, and possibly slow him down, but the screech didn't faze him. Nevermind that. When John reached the bed he used his hand to project himself over the bed and send Sherlock doing the exact same hurl. He used the moment of Sherlock's leap by running to the stairs as fast as he could, quickly running out of breath.
The stairs were wooden and creaked as if they were a hundred years old. He made his way down the flight until he reached a scarlet painted door. Although it was extremely heavy, he managed to open it enough to slip through. As he was exiting the doorway he glanced to Sherlock, who was no more than two seconds away from grabbing him. John turned around and ran into a quite large, lavish hallway. The wallpaper had gold printing and red vertical stripes reaching floor to the ceiling. The floor was wooden, with a matching colour scheme intricately designed carpet, which stretched from the beginning to the end of the hallway.
John seemed to slow down, as this was no characteristic of a 73 year old warehouse. Where was he?
The glimmer of hope, of a possible way out, in John's eye was quickly depleted when Sherlock forcefully grabbed his shoulder, stopping John from running away, and pulled him to the floor. He quickly put his weight on top of John, pinning him to the ground.
"What was that for?" Sherlock panted, even in this moment he still retained his sarcastic demeanor.
"Sherlock, did you honestly expect me to stay with you after you goddamned raped me?!"
"Don't say that word!"
"What's wrong, Sherlock? Can you not live with what you've done to me?! Are you so embarrassed that you can't even accept the truth?! You're bloody sick, Sherlock."
Even though John was anticipating it, there was no blow from Sherlock. Not even a rebuttal to prove him wrong. Sherlock knew what he did. He raped John. Pinned him to a bed, and raped him brutally.
"I'm sorry John I-"
"Sherlock, don't even bother. You've already done enough damage to me, I don't need your poor choice of words to make things even more painful." He took a deep breath, "I'm tired and I'm hurt. Can you please take me to the flat so I can get my things? This isn't you, Sherlock. You just need to let me leave."