After so long...
We bring in Molly into the story, but her part in this story isn't over...
John sat at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Molly, a thick awkward tension in the air around her. She was clearly uncomfortable being here with him instead of who she wanted to be with. Molly continually glanced behind him to see if Sherlock would be coming from his bedroom. When he didn't, she sighed, and looked John up and down before quickly dismissing him.
John stiffened. He hated that look; the look as if someone was looking at all his faults to take notes of them and judge him. It was bad enough that Sherlock constantly gave him that look. He had grown used it over time, but it still made his skin crawl.
Molly looked down and started to twiddle her thumbs, over thinking what she was to say and sighed.
"I guess...Sherlock isn't coming out any time soon."
Even though John knew it was a rhetorical question, he shook his head. "He, ah... No, I don't think so."
Molly sighed again and looks John in the eyes. "I was hoping he was going to be out here when I am supposed to explain... this."
"What are you supposed to explain?" John asked, slightly curious and still slightly cautious. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that Molly was angry or being hostile towards him. Not that she was ever rude or particularly hostile towards him, it just seemed that today... Something was off with her and he just couldn't put his finger on it.
'She probably sees you as a threat,' Chad supplied softly.
'A threat to what?' John asked internally.
'Of taking Sherlock,' Matt sighed.
'I don't understand,' John frowned.
'John,' Janet also sighed, frustrated at his stupidity. 'She probably has her suspicions about what you are to Sherlock. Except, now, she has probable cause. He practically confessed to you.'
'No he didn't. He just...We were...It's complicated. He never actually said he wanted a relationship.'
'John! The man just kissed you on the lips-'
'It was a small, friendly one,' he tried to defend.
'Please tell me you didn't actually believe that comfort crap!' Matt sighed. '"Oh, John..."' Matt said in an over dramatic deep whine, trying to imitate Sherlock. "'I'm so inexperienced in the concept of feelings. That's why I always try to make out with you..." Come on, John. That doesn't even make sense.'
John shook his head, trying to clear his roaming concentration before looking back at Molly. "Umm... Did I offend you, Molly?"
Molly looked shocked; as if she thought he was too stupid to pick up on her overly subtle hints. "Oh, no, John," she squeaked. "I was just...thinking about Victor."
"Victor?" John asked curiously. "New boyfriend?"
Molly stared at John. "No, Victor Trevor. Sherlock's 'friend'," she said with air quotes. John felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "They used to be like glue up until a few years before Sherlock met you."
John frowned slightly. Had Sherlock had a...? But he had never mentioned it... John blinked and stared at Molly, silently asking her to go on.
Molly looked at her watch; she decided that she had a few moments to indulge him.
When I first met Sherlock, he was really close to a man named... Victor Trevor, I think. He used to be the man's best friend; maybe even something more- no one really knows except those two. He used to be with Sherlock every time he visited the morgue."
"Why was he not around when I showed up with Mike?"
Molly sighed softly. "I think they had a falling out. They had met in college when Sherlock was visiting up where he lives. Knowing Sherlock, he got himself involved in a mystery having to do with his uncle. Anyway, I'm not exactly sure, but at that time, Sherlock was neck deep in his addiction to cocaine. Victor was really great and patient, even stayed with him through rehab, but, I think, that's what inevitably what broke them up."
John frowned. He wasn't sure if he was sad about Sherlock not telling John about Sherlock's best friend, or about how he had lost said friend.
Molly took another look at her watch and squeaked. She got up and grabbed her coat off the rack. She was 7 minutes late. If she didn't leave now, she'd be late to work. "Sorry, John. I must be going. I left a body out on ice and I don't want him to get too warm. Tell Sherlock he's not allowed to return to the lab until he returns all of the equipment he stole." Molly took one more longing look at Sherlock's bedroom before walking out of their front door and closing it behind her.
John continued to sit at the table, not really paying attention to Molly's exit. He was still trying to process the information he just received. Did Sherlock have a past ex- he didn't like to speak about? If so, why? Was this his way of opening up about it to him? Did that mean it was a painful experience for him to get over? John had so many questions floating around without discernible answers.
In the adjoining room, John heard a clock strike the hour. He sighed before deciding to try to sleep on it and approach Sherlock about it another day. If Sherlock hadn't come out during Molly's whole speech, he probably didn't want to discuss Victor.
Sherlock heard the sound of John's bedroom door close. He momentarily tensed, unsure what it meant. John hadn't even tried to approach him about his past drug problem. Was John now going to (or currently) contemplate his friendship with Sherlock? He groaned. He shouldn't have expected John to just accept his past...weakness. No one ever did. The possibility of a relapse always drew them away in the end. And, truth be told, he wasn't sad to see them go. John might be the first one.
Sherlock sighed. He'd wait until John confronted him before trying to defend himself. He just hoped that John would have decided not to leave before then.
'Oh...' Janet sighed softly. It had been three days since Molly's confession and John had finally broken and told Janet. He had still yet to actually confront Sherlock, yet. 'That so sad,' she sniffed. 'It explains so much.'
"How do you mean?" John asked softly.
'How could it not? I mean, he lost someone who seems to be a good friend- possibly more than a good friend. Probably someone he loved! Sorry, John,' she apologized when she saw his face, 'but it's practically Molly's own words. Anyway, wouldn't you be sad of you lost one of your closest friends?' If you had any was implied at the end.
John sighed and shook his head. "I mean, I guess I could understand it, but he seems like he doesn't want to talk about it."
'Just...go talk to him.'
"But, I don't know what to talk to him about... What if it brings up something that he doesn't want to bring up? It could have been something traumatizing for all we know. I mean, he was practically his boyfriend."
'Just...talk to him about Trevor or...whatever. I don't know. Go lend support. Not confronting him could be sending him some confusing signals.'
John hesitantly got up from the edge of his bed and walked down the stairs as quietly as he could. He stood on the bottom landing for a minute or two staring at Sherlock's door. He walked slowly towards it, thinking about what he would say and trying to get the courage to actually say it. He wasn't sure if Sherlock would be angry with him for bringing it up or if he'd just slam the door in his face. John shook away the negative thoughts before lightly knocking on the door (hoping that Sherlock wouldn't answer) and waited patiently as Sherlock shuffled about behind it.
Sherlock opened the door enough to slightly lean out of the and look down at John. "John?" Sherlock asked, confused. He looked tired and a little irritable. His eyes were slightly red from a lack of sleep and his hair seemed overly ruffled. "What-"
Seeing Sherlock looking somewhat miserable and tired had a weird, but profound, effect on him. In an instant, everything he had practiced had flown out his head. Looking into Sherlock's eyes, John felt a need... Did he do this to Sherlock? John felt this overwhelming need to comfort him.
John quickly closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. He rested his head on his chest and closed his eyes, breathing in Sherlock's scent through his t-shirt.
Sherlock stiffened, not expecting John to hug him. "John?" he asked as John felt his voice rumbled through his chest.
"Sherlock..." John shot back.
Sherlock sighed and decided to wrap his arms around John's waist. "What's wrong, John?"
"I'm sorry about Victor."
He stiffened. "How do you know about Victor?" Sherlock asked, wanting to be a little angry, but it was hard when his (he had to admit) cuddly and deeply concerned flat mate was being so imitate with him. He stifled a moan, reveling in the warmth of John.
"Are you okay, Sherlock? You're hearts beating a little fast for a man just standing."
"No, John I'm fine. You can let go now..."
"Yeah...I know."
John continued to hold on, though neither of them really minded. Sherlock walked backwards, letting John into his room, and shut the door. He continued his journey backwards until his knees hit the bed. Once there, he released his grasp of John's waist and unlinked John's fingers from his back.
"Please, sit down, John."
John sat cautiously, trying not to think too hard that he was about to sit on Sherlock's bed.
"What did Molly tell you?"
"Molly said that you used to be...close," he looked away as he said that, "with a man named Victor Trevor during uni. That you used to be friends...or something like that...maybe even more."
Sherlock sighed, frustrated; drawing John's attention back to him. "Why doesn't Molly ever do as she's told?" he asked himself aloud. John gave Sherlock a confused look. "I wanted her to discuss the me towards the end of my...addiction. I thought that that was why you had been avoiding me for the past couple of days."
"I swear...," he tried to explain seriously, grabbing Sherlock's right hand, "I-is that why you look so tired? I-I didn't m-mean... I thought you didn't want to talk about Victor. I thought that y-you wouldn't want to bring it up-"
Sherlock softly placed his hand over John's lips. He gave John's forehead a small peck, smoothing out the worry wrinkles before lowering himself to sit on his knees. He removed his hand slowly off of John's lips, allowing only the fingertips to linger.
"We promised not to judge," John said softly.
Sherlock chuckled slightly, amused by John's childish explanation and the sensation of the vibration his voice made. "Yes, yes we did." he removed his fingertips.
"And I said that I'd try. So I am- going to try not to judge that is." John sighed and closed his eyes. "Look, I know you had a drug problem not long after I started to live with you. If I had a problem with that, I'd already be gone. Please, don't think so little of me."
"I promise, John, I don't."
John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. He patted the bed space next to him. "Please, tell me about him."
Sherlock sat on the right side of John. "...I met him during a college excursion one day during the winter holidays. We had the same interest and were pretty compatible as far as friends go. He was like you, almost, impressed with my powers of deduction. So much so, that he enlisted my help during one of his uncle's cases. You see, his uncle was being blackmailed by one of his former inmates. By the time I had solved the case, his uncle had expired and he could either stay at his lonely house or come and study with me at my college. If course, he chose to come with me. We were very good friends for a while, until it seemed that one day, something had changed."
John quietly gulped, hoping Sherlock wasn't about to tell him about any details concerning their love life. Sherlock lightly grasped John's hand closes to him and drew patterns on it with his fingers. It was just to let him know that John was really there, a solid presence that wasn't going to be leaving any time soon.
"He found a woman."
John blinked in confusion, but decided not to ask yet. Instead, he rubbed sift circles on the back of Sherlock's hand.
"He found himself a woman, which, at first seemed all fine and dandy. We still went out a lot and talked about chemistry and such, but slowly, he started pulling away. He started to prefer her over me, and I thought that that was just fine. Then, he had to go and MARRY the girl," he said in an almost bitter tone. "It was a little before then I had started the addiction phase. I had dabbled in cocaine when I was in college, but only when life was too...dull. Victor helped life seem at least decent, but, now that he was gone, it had just seemed to spiral.
"When my brother had found me, that was when I had hit the lowest part of my addiction. Mycroft had informed Victor of what seemed to be my impending demise, but he did nothing. He didn't even visit me once in the hospital, too busy with kids and such. When he finally did come, he resented coming. Everyone said he was so understanding and so nice for helping a friend through a dark time through their life, but that's because I lead them to believe that."
"Why would you do something like that?"
"Because even though he's moved on, he's still my friend. His life just...took a detour from mine. He still had a reputation to uphold. He only stayed in my life long enough to have a legitimate claim that he was 'there for me'. That's about it. He left half way through my rehabilitation process and I told everyone that he visited almost every day. I haven't seen him since he went back to his life."
"I'm sorry," John apologized as he leaned his head on one of Sherlock's bony shoulder. He needed to remember to feed him more.
"What for?" Sherlock asked as he leaned toward John.
"That you didn't have a proper friend. That you didn't have someone that you could have turned to without worrying that they would inevitable leave you at the end."
"Everyone leave me in the end, John."
John used his free hand to grip the back of John's shirt. "I won't."
"You especially, John. You have the best reason of them all."
"How do you mean?" John asked, picking his head up from Sherlock's shoulder. They were close, unbelievably close. If only he could tip his head...
Instead of explaining, Sherlock slowly closed the gap between their lips. It started off as small, short pecks, each one slow, sensuous; Sherlock's pale lips moving slowly over John's, tasting them. He darted his tongue out a little bit to lick at John's lips before sucking it into his mouth. John parted his lips slightly and shuddering as Sherlock's tongue darted inside. Sherlock reached a hand up to cup John's face as he angled his head to explore his mouth.
John moaned and blushed, hoping Sherlock wouldn't be embarrassed. There was a dull hum of his personality's voices, but they were slowly becoming quietly as all his concentration was devoted to the feel and taste of Sherlock's tongue.
Sherlock released John to break for air. They stayed close to each other, panting and breathing in each other's oxygen.
"Shut up," John whispered softly.
"I didn't say anything."
"I wasn't talking to you," John said softly before kissing him once more. John immediately allowed Sherlock's tongue to regain access to his mouth, trying out a technique he had ready in a crappy romance novel once.
Sherlock was surprised by the way John's tongue made him feel. Feeling a little courageous, Sherlock slowly swung is leg over John's, allowing John to protest, and straddled his hips. He slowly leaned John back until his back touched the soft bed beneath it. Sherlock sucked on John's bottom, paying it special attention, before releasing it. Sherlock looked down at John, loving the way he looked debauched and out of breath. He couldn't help but quickly leaned back down and try to make him even more unsettled.
Sherlock couldn't seem to touch John quick enough. Even though his hands seemed to be flying over any part of John's he could reach, their kiss was still slow, almost fragile as it lengthened from soft, exploring touches. He rubbed John's jumper longingly, wishing he could take it off or at least feel some of the skin underneath. It would be easier to catalogue which of the scars were made by what object. There was a small part of him, though, that thought just the feel of John's scarred, raised flesh would be invigorating.
By the way John's hands skimmed over Sherlock's back and thighs, Sherlock was pretty confident John felt the same way. Sherlock didn't want to push it though. He knew if he pushed John, even a little bit, he'd seize up on him. What they had right now, it was a push in the right direction. Soon enough, hopefully, they'd...progress their relationship and Sherlock's experiment would be complete. For some reason, he felt disappointed.
John felt Sherlock frown above him. He tried to get his attention back by sucking on his top lip like Sherlock had, but when that had no effect, he slowly ended the kiss.
"What's wrong," John asked softly, leaning up on his elbows so that Sherlock wasn't totally looking down at him.
"Nothing John," Sherlock said, trying for a smile.
John's frowned deepened. "Sherlock, what is this?" he asked softly, signally the space between them. He licked his lips. "What is this betwee-"
Sherlock's phone rang, breaking off John's sentence. It shocked them both, forgetting that the world didn't just consist of them. Before John could even finish his sentence, Sherlock was off of him and searching for his phone.
"Sherlock Holmes," he answered. He hummed every now and then, pacing and listening attentively to his phone call. "We'll be there shortly." Sherlock ended the call and turned towards back towards John. "Up, Up, Up, John. That was the Detective Inspector. We are needed. A fresh mystery has appeared in the form of a nice murder. Quickly!"
Sherlock turned and quickly strutted out of his room and into the main room. John sat on his bed a little longer, trying to stop his head from spinning. He didn't understand what had just happened. He thought it had been going great, but the big question still hung between them. What was growing on between them? Were they together-ish? Was it a trial-based relationship? Were they just friends with benefits?
John heard Sherlock's grunt of impatience. He sighed and stood up, following Sherlock into the living room to grab his coat. He didn't want to be left behind...again.