Chapter 14

Sherlock closed his eyes and rested for a while. The cold floor of the toilets felt pleasant, pressed against his battered face. He breathed deeply, trying to compose himself enough to stand, but no matter how many times he told himself to get up, his body wouldn't allow it. The phone that was lying next to him on the ground was vibrating like crazy. He opened a blearly eye to see that he had 6 missed calls and 5 texts from John. He groaned before forcing his arm to move and grabbed the phone. It required a lot of effort to prop himself up on to his elbows. The pain in his head shifted like water as he moved, and his whole body felt extremely heavy. He opened the texts from John:

Where are you? JW

I don't mind, just let me know when you're coming back. JW

Sherlock, it's been two hours now. Please just tell me. JW

For God's sake, answer your bloody phone! JW

I'll get a teacher if you don't answer me in the next 10 minutes. No joke. JW

The last one had been sent 5 minutes ago; he still had some time. As he was texting back, the phone rang, and John's name appeared on the screen. Shit. He had to answer. He cleared his throat and mentally shook himself, trying to push away the pain that still throbbed all over his body.

"Hello?" he answered in a gruff, shaky voice. He cleared his throat again and tried to steady his breathing. It was a difficult thing to do considering he had just been winded.

"Why weren't you answering your phone?! For God's sake it's been hours!"

Sherlock staggered and gripped on to the sink for support. It was in that moment that he caught a glimpse of his face. Swollen eye that would turn black. Cut and bleeding lip. Wonky, bloody nose that was probably broken. Among the larger injuries were traces of mud and small cuts where the boys' shoes had collided with his face.

It was a weird thing, looking at himself. Any normal person would probably be crying at this point. They would have given up and would be a sobbing mess feeling sorry for themselves. But Sherlock felt oddly..okay. The pain was still there, but it was subsiding. He should have been bothered by the fact that he looked like shit, and that John was going to flip out and everyone else would laugh at him. But he couldn't care less.

While experiencing this realisation, John was still yelling down the phone.

"Mm God sorry-"

"You can't just disappear for-"

"-calm down! I had my phone on silent. I'm sorry."

"You're a bloody idiot. Where are you?"

Sherlock hesitated, "walking back now. I'll be 5 minutes."

John sighed, "Kay, sure. See you in a minute then," and with that, he hung up the phone.

Sherlock frantically splashed water on his face, rubbing the blood away roughly and wincing when he came in to contact with his nose. Patting his face dry on his dirty, creased shirt, he inspected his reflection one last time. There were still traces of dry blood and his skin was red in the areas where he had rubbed too hard. The bridge of his nose was still bent at a funny angle, and his eye was still puffy, but other than that nothing really looked too bad.

He walked as fast as his aching limbs would move him down the corridor, and groaned slightly when he was forced to walk up a flight of stairs. Upon arriving at the door of 221B, he took a deep breath, hoping that the lighting was dull enough to disguise some of the damage. John would definitely notice, and there was no point in trying to hide it from him. He just had to suck it up and reject everything John had to say.

"Sherlock?" an angry voice called from the bathroom when the door was closed.

"Yes, hi. Um..I'm sorry. I should have let you know what was happening."

"Yeah, you should have, just, remember in future to-"

John had stepped out of the bathroom and stopped talking with a horrified expression when he looked at Sherlock, who merely blinked before staring down at his feet. Suddenly John was walking towards him, so sudden in fact that it made him flinch. Before Sherlock could say anything, John's hand was on his back, pushing him in to the bathroom.

"John- it's fine-"

"Shut up," he snapped. John sat him down on the bath without saying a word, and tilted his chin up roughly to get a better look at his face. Silently, he got a flannel and wet it with warm water, then began wiping it over Sherlock's face, removing any traces of blood or dirt. He then moved on to the mess that was his nose. He prodded it gently, causing Sherlock to wince in pain.

"Yeah, that's broken. I can't do anything about it, you'll need to see the school nurse-"

"-I am not telling her what happened-"

"-you don't have to. Just go to her and get it fixed," he said sternly, but his face immediately softened, "how's the rest of you looking?" he asked in a much more gentle tone.

"I will get a few bruises but nothing serious."

"Right," John pulled a tube out of the bathroom cabinet, "this'll help. Come here."

As opposed to pushing him, John took Sherlock's hand with a sad smile on his face, before leading him in to the bedroom. The two of them sat down on his bed, and John gave him a reassuring look before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Sherlock allowed his shirt to be removed without protest as John moved behind him on his knees. Sherlock hadn't seen his body but he supposed it looked rather bad as it achieved an audible gasp from John.

"John, you don't have to-"

"Shh," he whispered quietly, before planting soft kisses on Sherlock's shoulder, and nuzzling his face in the dip between his shoulder and neck, still kissing the skin there.

John would kiss every place where he hurt, every place they had kicked and punched him, before gently applying a cream that would relieve the pain. Sherlock kept his eyes closed the entire time, feeling the pain go away and the slight tingle John's lips left on his skin. He hadn't even realised that John didn't have a shirt on either, until he was facing him, cupping his cheek.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" John mumured, and Sherlock shook his head in reply, "okay, that's fine," he breathed, leaning in to Sherlock and kissing him. If John hadn't been here, if they had never met, Sherlock probably would be one of the people crying, feeling sorry for themselves and wanting it all to end. But John was here, with him, and it was a blessing.

After a session of comforting kisses, John fell asleep, with Sherlock wrapped in his arms like a teddy bear. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes, allowing sleep to come over him.