As Sherlock entered his bedroom that night, rage broke free form his chest. He roared in anger and slammed his hand into the wall, cracking it. He felt the fury return to him, the loss of control taking over him. He raged for a good twenty minutes before he calmed, the crimson draining slowly from his eyes. His room was now a wreck, the chairs that were set near his desk were in a haphazard heap near the door, the wall had quite a few new cracks and breaks in them. He couldn't believed his brother would do that, he had half a mind to track down Mycroft and kill him. He had told Mycroft not to go anywhere near John, for good reason. The consort had that air about him that could drive anyone towards him without thought.
He heard the single knock in the right corner which signaled Greg. "Enter." He snarled out, pulling at the heap of chairs. Greg entered and looked around sheepishly. "Grab a chair and sit." Sherlock waved a hand to the pile of chairs. Greg yanked one out and sat. "Is he asleep?" Sherlock asked, sitting in a chair. Greg nodded.
"Yes, he finally drifted off. Although Mycroft didn't get too far, he took a tole on John. The man's scared to death right now, Master." Greg informed him, his hands twisting together. Sherlock steepled his hands so the fingertips rested on his lips. "It will take longer till he trusts you again." Greg pointed out, leaning back. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.
"I understand. Just please, help him through this. He will need someone like you to get him through this." Sherlock stated, his shoulder relaxing. Greg nodded and stood.
"I must go, John might've woken up again." Greg bowed to his master and stepped out. Sherlock heaved a sigh and tilted his head back. His head hurt from the crimson rushing in and out of his eyes, as well as his brother. Mycroft was strong as ever, only with his wits and quick hands was Sherlock able to get him to evoke soucit. His fangs hurt from snapping them and gnashing them on his brother's skin. Even more so, his heart was sore form caring so much about John Watson. At first, he wanted the consort just for another consort but, the man was something else. He was only a little afraid to disobey orders, more then others he'd had. Sherlock liked a tiny bit of rebellion, not so much that the consort got out of control but, just enough so they felt like they controlled something of their life. Sherlock snorted at that thought, his subjects didn't own their lives, not anymore, they were his to play with no, to protect.
John woke with a scream, one that barely past his lips for his voice was hoarse from screaming the night away. he barely slept, when he did, he saw Mycroft and what would've happened, each time even worse. Greg's head poked around the corner. "Fine, I'm fine." John waved a hand, the other held his face.
"You sure?" Greg asked, his eyes flicking over John. The man nodded and waved the other away. Greg hesitated before going back to his room. John sat up and pulled his blankets around himself. Each Bloodlet that past his room made him flinch. He longed for a door so he couldn't see who past. Doors made him feel safe, open doorways scared him to no end. He wondered if Sherlock would give him a door? He stood shakily, one blanket wrapped around him like a cloak and set off.
He went to Sherlock's room and knock twice in the left corner. "Enter." The voice was soft. John opened the door, bowed and entered. Sherlock was curled up in the great big bed in the center of the room. john's cheeks reddened as he saw the master with no shirt on. Sherlock sat up and ran a hand through his nest of curls. "Yes John, how can I help you?" Sherlock asked with a yawn, one that showed off his fangs. John shuddered then steeled himself.
"Master, I was wondering if I could request a door be put on my room?" John asked, his eyes down. Sherlock was quiet for a moment.
"Whatever for?" Sherlock asked, cocking his head to the right. John looked up a this master. How could he be so thick?
"Because of last night;s events, I was wondering if I could have a door." John told Sherlock, his voice firmer now. Sherlock thought again.
"I suppose. Only till you are healed enough to not have a door." Sherlock told his consort. John nodded and bowed to him.
"Thank you Master." John gushed, hope fluttered in his chest.
"The door will be placed today." Sherlock informed him, falling back down. John took this to leave. He turned and left.
John spent the rest of the day huddled in his bed, watching the Bloodlets put his door up and, hiding from the manor. He had broken down in the middle of the day, sobs racking his body. He tried to cover them but, Greg heard them. The other man came in and soothed him. John felt weird, technically, he hadn't been raped. He was almost raped and that was enough to break him. He felt weak that it was enough to break him. He thought Sherlock would break him first.
The thought that Sherlock was there to protect him made him feel better. The Noble had cast his brother out to protect John made the man feel better. He had the support of Greg to help him along as well. Somehow, he felt a strong connection with both men, they helped him in their own ways. He hoped he could help them as much as they helped him.