Summers was entirely professional through the whole of the hour long interview as John gave his statement, recounting the events of the search for and capture of the criminal the previous day. Nothing revealed that anything would have happened between them the previous night, nothing that is but the shaking of John's hands which he held firmly in his lap out of view of the Officer.
He answered all the questions mechanically and without thinking, all the while fixing Summers with his eyes observing every twitch and movement in the greater man's body. He was grateful for the recording device on the table which documented the whole conversation as it all but guaranteed him a modicum of safety, something he knew he would never feel in quite the same way inside this building again.
Scotland Yard had always been a safe haven despite its association with crimes and fraught situations. It was not supposed to be where the threat came from, not the source of danger but a tool in the solution to it.
When they finished Summers turned the recorder off and leaned forward in the chair. "Well done loverboy." He leered at John who clenched his fists in his lap and stood to leave the room. When he got to the door he realised that the door was locked and fear surged up in him unbidden. "It's an interrogation room, I have to let you out" Summers sounded amused as he stood and approached John.
Before John could get out of the way to let him open he had his arms wrapped around him locking him in place before the door "Remember what we said, not a word to that little friend of yours, unless you want us to give him the same lesson" he breathed in John's ear the warmth of his breath making the hairs on Johns arms stand on end.
Summers unlocked the door and pushed John out then headed straight for Lestrade's office. John did not follow, could not, there was a ringing in his yars and his stomach was doing somersaults and he threw himself toward the toilet hoping desperately that he would make it before his stomach ejected lunch.
He did not know how long he spent on the cold floor throwing up, gagging desperately even when there was no longer anything left to throw up. His whole body was trembling and it was a great effort to stand up. Spots danced before his eyes as he leaned on the sink turning the water on to wash his face and mouth.
He did not touch the water merely stood there watching it swirl down the drain. He squeezed the edges of the sink to the point where his broken wrist was throbbing clinging on to the pain to try to will himself not to spill the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes.
The sound of grunting and laughing filled his head and when he closed his eyes he could see Summers face grinning at him. He would not forget his name now. Then suddenly there were hands on him and adrenaline surged helping him to lash out in furious rage. This would not happen again, not again. He would die before he let them do that to him again. He hit, kicked, screamed, and when the hands were suddenly gone he scrambled back until his back hit hard against the furthest wall where he stood panting the spots dancing before his eyes slowly clearing.
As his eyes focused he saw Lestrade sitting on the floor, a stunned look on his face and worry in his eyes. "John, calm down, I won't touch you, it's okay" Lestrade's voice was steady and it brought him back to reality somewhat but only for a second before he realised what he had done. He had given himself away, he had attacked Lestrade and now they would all find out… and they would go after Sherlock next… The spots were returning and Lestrade's voice came back but seemingly from some distance "John, calm down, you're hyperventilating" and John knew that Lestrade was right but he did not know what to do to make it stop. Deep breaths was not an option, his chest hurt too much and his heart was beating so hard. He knew before it happened that he was going to pass out and was vaguely aware of his legs giving out and crumbling to the floor.
