John was balancing his confusion with his fury. He had felt a wave of relief when his friend had unwaveringly stated it was not in any way coercive, although the teacher/student dynamic had made that highly suspect. Now, he was discovering it was not only coercive, but probably just months past an automatic rape conviction.
"John. I know what you're thinking, John, but remember, this was me."
John grit his teeth. Unfortunately, he had no problem remembering that.
"I was not your typical thirteen-year-old. I was reasonably close to my current height, more or less the same build, already had a knowledge-base stronger than most adults and was actively seeking out new experiences. You can erase your mental image of a vulnerable teenager."
Barely a teenager, John thought.
"I tried to convince the priest of that, but there was really no point. He kept insisting I had no control over the situation. I couldn't make him understand how it really was...how I am. You know better, though."
The absolute last emotion John had expected to feel when a friend was confiding having been molested was anger at the survivor. He tried to shake it off.
"Of course you were brilliant at thirteen, Sherlock. No one could ever say you weren't. But you were not emotionally mature at thirteen. That is a different type of wisdom. There was a complete lack of balance of power. There is no way you could make an adult do things he didn't want to do."
"He wanted to. I wanted to. People want sex. I wanted to understand that better. Besides, power...control... is, perhaps, overrated in this instance."
John felt an emotion he was at a complete loss to describe. God, once he had longed for something like this. To hear Sherlock Holmes actually talking about losing himself to sexual pleasure, about a lack of control being a very good thing indeed, but it was framed in the context of a thirteen-year-old Sherlock being completely manipulated by an adult.
"How did you meet this complete and utter fucker?"
"He wasn't a fucker, John. I was a bit nervous and he treated me with kindness. He provided an excellent introduction into the sexual world. I couldn't have asked for better, believe me. I enjoyed myself. I instigated it and I used him for my own ends. Manipulation. Like Molly. Like Janine."
"I, I didn't know about Molly, but, well I know nothing happened with Janine. She would complain to Mary about that, said you never would quite, go there."
"Nothing happened with Molly, but her attraction to me was entirely exploitable. Nice to know I was a topic of discussion between Mary and Janine. Still best friends, even after she knocked her unconscious?"
"You should talk. 'That's My Girl'?" Sherlock smiled. "Apparently, one can forgive a friend for knocking you unconscious if she was intending to shoot the man who got his kicks from flicking you in the eye. Now you're probably her hero. I don't know what he had on that girl, but it must have been something. And look, you've managed to pull me pretty far off track... you think I don't remember that we were talking about you thinking you manipulated your own abuse?"
"I manipulate people, John. It's what I do. I'm doing it right now... with you."
"With me? Doing what with me?"
"Changing the topic at will. That's all it was then, too. I set it up. I was curious. He was amenable."
"You make it sound like he did you a favor. Sherlock. Even if I was interested in... " John tried again. "I have been interested in men before. If a child stripped down and plunked himself right in my lap and started grabbing at my prick... entirely of their own volition... I would get up and say 'whoa, what the hell?' I would have done that long before it ever got to that point, mind you. Because I am an adult. And children are free to explore their sexuality and to not know what they are doing, have no idea of the consequences of their actions, unintentionally flirt, intentionally flirt, and it is my job, as an adult, not to take advantage of that fact. While they figure it all out themselves...in their own time...with someone their own age. Anything else is an abuse of power. They don't know what they are doing yet. That's the point. You don't instruct a child."
Sherlock had been ready to talk, but found himself completely unaware of how to respond. They rode in silence for some time, John staring at farmland and more cows than he thought could possibly exist just a few minutes outside a large city, before Sherlock broke it.
"Maybe he didn't want to do it. I have, and had, more power than you give me credit for. He, was trying to reconcile. I ruined that, too."
"Damn good thing she found out. Gave her a chance to see just who the fuck she was married to. God, Sherlock. I bet she's grateful. Did he make you feel as if that was your fault? That she finally left the prick?"
"He... yes. Then he left me. Of course. I was taking too much of his time. I would lie about where I was going to get time with him. I would..."
"You would behave like a child. And he blamed it all on you, didn't he. Do you hear what you're saying yet?"
They drove on, each stewing in their own thoughts.