John's eyes flicked between the man who Sherlock presumed knew, Sherlock's smashed violin and Sherlock's face. John waited for the silence to be filled with answer of who the hell this man was and why he was here. The possibilities ran though John's mind. No one could make Sherlock react like that, what if this man was an old friend. Impossible Sherlock doesn't have friends, at least no friends apart from John. If this man was from Sherlock's past, why hadn't he mentioned it before? John thought he knew most things about Sherlock's past by now, so why didn't John know abut this man. He didn't know whether to be angry at Sherlock for keeping this from him or hurt that he couldn't tell him about it. It was Victor who broke the silence first.
"Sorry , let me introduce myself. I am Victor Trevor, an old friend of Sherlock's" stated to John.
"That's impossible, Sherlock didn't have friends, so who the hell are you?" John proclaimed, slightly raising his voice. Victor's eyes widened at John's outburst. Before John could get any angrier, Sherlock shuffled forward and grabbed John's arm.
"John, it's true. This is Victor, we went to university together. He was my friend" Sherlock quietly answered. Seeing Sherlock's apprehension at the situation, he turned placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and looked at his face.
"Do you want me to get rid of him?" John hinted to Sherlock, glancing over his shoulder to the man still stood in the doorway. It was almost like talking to a small child.
"No, its okay, I'd rather speak to him. Alone" replied Sherlock.
John simply nodded, turned on his heel and strode down the stairs and through the door slamming it on his way out.
"It's not like you to go for the dominant men" stated Victor.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked gritted though his teeth. Victor took an experimental step towards Sherlock in order to gage his response. Sherlock was still, not daring to move, not daring to give this man any advance over his not again.
"I want you. I'm dying, Sherlock. Brain aneurysm Didn't even realise until I watched a documentary about it on television and decided to go the doctors because my symptoms were the same. Death makes one think about all they have done in life. All the regrets they have made through out their lives. My biggest regret was you, I didn't treat you right. I guess what I'm saying is, I want another chance. Please will you be with me?" suggested Victor. His little speech sounded far too rehearsed. For years after university, Sherlock had always wondered if things had been differently between them what could of become of them. Together they were a destructive couple; there had been far too much violence in the relationship, it was a good thing Mycroft had intervened, Sherlock probably would of been dead if he had not. Victor left his print on Sherlock in the form of drugs. Before Victor had left him, he had gotten him hooked on cocaine. Being Sherlock's only friend at the time, he was able to manipulate Sherlock, pile on peer-pressure until Sherlock followed him.
"No, now please leave" Sherlock calmly answered him.
"I don't think you quite understand Sherlock, all I've ever thought about was you for all these years, and I cannot leave here without you" Victor hissed, while raising a hand hovering over Sherlock's cheekbones not quite touching him. Sherlock could not allow himself to be fooled by this jerk again, he had John now. That was all he needed.
"Do you want John to find out about your past?" asked Victor, snapping Sherlock out of his mini day dream. That was the one thing Sherlock did not want John knowing about his life. He did not John to know how bad drugs had gripped his life.
"You can stay here for a couple of days but that's it, I want you gone by the weekend. Plus I don't want you to mention anything to John. Do I make myself clear?" Sherlock commanded, keeping his face straight.
"Crystal" Victor slimly replied while glancing up and down Sherlock's slender figure.
John had received a text from Sherlock about an hour after he had left the flat asking him to come home. Reading the text over and over again John felt slightly worried, Sherlock had never asked to come home before. He would normally inform John that he was an idiot before demanding he return along with some items he wanted for a future experiment. Draining the last of his pint, John placed the empty glass on the bar in front of the bartender, dropped a £10 note next to it, muttering 'keep the change' at the man before swiftly turning around and sweeping out the door back to Baker Street.
Approaching their door after practically running up those steps, John came to a halt before the door noticing that it was far to silent on the inside. 'Maybe they have killed each other' thought John, that idea sent a shiver down his spine the thought of finding Sherlock dead was not nice at all. Cautiously John entered the room, only to see Victor sat on the sofa, while Sherlock was sat opposite both drinking tea with not a single word being uttered between them - How British.
"Still here then?" sneered John in Victor's direction, this earned a slight grin from Sherlock at John's hostility towards the man.
"Did Sherlock not inform you? I shall be staying for a few days" Victor simply replied unnerved by John's aggressiveness.
John's eyes darted straight to Sherlock, in hope that the posh git was not staying in their flat. Sherlock merely stared back at him, not even offering an answer for this. The room went silent again. This was going to be a awkward few days, there was going to be much forced conversation. Giving up with the situation, John walked into the kitchen to grab himself a pint of water to chase away the dizziness from the drink. Stepping back into the living, John confronted the sleeping problem head on.
"Sherlock, where is Victor going to sleep?" This grabbed Sherlock's attention, he hadn't actually thought about that. Damn it.
"Victor you can have my bed, I don't sleep much anyway" Victor only nodded in reply to this.
So Sherlock is not coming to bed then. Guess this prat doesn't know about me and him then. John mentally judged. Well screw this, he was going to get some shut eye, with or without Sherlock by his side.
"Well goodnight, you too. Don't make to much noise" muttered John in no particular direction as he shifted towards the stairs leading to his room.
Both the remaining men listened to John creak up the stairs. Victor broke the quietness in the atmosphere first.
"Well I better be getting some sleep as well, see you tomorrow morning. Darling" smiled Victor as he got up from his sitting position from the sofa and walked over to Sherlock to stroke the hair from his forehead. Sherlock slightly leaned into the gesture, only slightly. Sherlock dismissed it as a unconscious reaction from when John stroked him like that. Sherlock watched as Victor strode toward Sherlock's room, just like old times. Letting out a sigh, he had been holding, Sherlock let his body relax into the chair, while slowly shutting his eyes.
Sherlock awoke to the smell of bacon, turning his stiff neck to the kitchen he observed the back of John, and watched him cook his breakfast, as the kettle rattled from boiling. Begrudgingly Sherlock hauled himself up from the chair, stretched his muscles and wandered over to John to put his arms around him. Sherlock slowly sucked John's earlobe in between his lips, moving down to his neck, lazily licking his neck in small circle shapes.
"You didn't come to bed last night" commented John.
"I'm sorry John. I'll make it up to you" whispered Sherlock as he turned John's face towards him in order to kiss him with more excitement. Grabbing onto John's hips to steady himself, Sherlock made the kiss more passionate and heated by increasing the speed and intensity. Sherlock regrettably pulled away as he heard Victor rising from his room. Sherlock made his way over to the table, quickly giving John one last chase kiss before sitting down at the table while arranging himself under the table, he didn't want Victor to see him half-hard. Knowing Victor he'd probably pounce on him given half the chance.
Breakfast was an awkward affair. They ate in wordless silence. The only noise in the room was Sherlock pushing his food around his plate in hopeless abandonment. Giving up on the boring process of eating, Sherlock excused himself in order to go to the bathroom and get a quick shower. Leaving the two men from his past and current life to entertain themselves in the kitchen.
John quickly finished, leaving his plate on the side, any excuse to get out of the kitchen away from that git. John knew there was something between him and Sherlock, he just couldn't figure out what. They couldn't of been lovers, Sherlock was a virgin when he had been with John. Or at least John had fought so, unless Sherlock had lied to him. He wouldn't do that, would he? John quickly dismissed this idea. What ever it was between those two, John would find out.
Reading the morning paper, John waited for Sherlock to finish his shower.
Just under half an hour later Sherlock graced the living room in a fresh suit, looking like he was ready to face the day.
"Right I'm just popping down the shops, is there anything you need?" John announced looking towards Sherlock for an answer, however it was Victor who answered.
"Well if you are going in that direction, I'd be ever so grateful if you could pick these up for me" Victor gestured to the list he had just pulled out of pocket. John snatched the list from him, looking at it as if it had offended him. John's eyes narrowed towards Sherlock for a moment.
"Nothing for me, John"indicated Sherlock. With this John pulled his jacket on, checking he had his keys and wallet and made his way out the door.
Sherlock was suddenly hyper aware he was alone with Victor, he didn't know how far Victor would push this. As if on cue, Victor rose from the chair in the kitchen and paraded himself over to Sherlock's standing form.
"By the way, you may want to change your sheets. I had an interesting dream about you last night" Victor smirked.
"I was fucking you, over the table. God you were gagging for it, begging for it like a whore" continued Victor, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip.
Sherlock could only stare at Victor as he described the dream. A single shudder ran down Sherlock's spine, he should feel aroused by this. He wanted John, not Victor.
Without any notice, Victor surged forward and captured Sherlock's lips with his, at the same time reaching up and tangling his fingers though Sherlock's raven black curls, Sherlock remained motionless. Hands at his sides,still.
"Forgot my phone" proclaimed John as he cantered into the flat, eyes immediately falling onto Sherlock and Victor.
