Sherlock noticed as John untangled himself from his arms taking the warmth of his body with him, leaving only his scent on the pillow and blankets. He could tell that John was disappointed with how the night had gone despite his statement that they would proceed at a pace that he was comfortable with. While he had been eager to see and study John's scar the thought of him becoming aroused made him apprehensive and he had no desire at the moment to see another man's erection or help the man to find his release. A shudder ran through Sherlock's body at the thought of John orgasming at his hand and he curled further into himself.
He had once liked sex. He had even lost his virginity at sixteen to a boy in his science class. They had bonded over their love of chemistry and the boy had been curious enough to bed Sherlock one lonely night in their dorm. The experience had been strange and unpleasant as neither knew what they were doing and the next morning he had been informed that the boy had decided he was straight. They remained lab partners for a while after that but Sherlock had already moved on into drugs just trying to find a way to quiet his mind. Sebastian would be the first one who would use his body as payment for the cocaine then heroine but he wouldn't be the last. Though Sherlock tried to separate the two it was always easy to find a man who would accept a quick suck in the alleyway in exchange for a small bag.
His first overdose truly had been an accident. The cut was purer than he was used to and he didn't expect to wake up in a hospital with Mycroft staring down at the track marks on his arms in disdain. He escaped out the window the next morning disappearing back to the streets and away from the growing eyes of his brother. He wouldn't say he was happy on the streets but at least he was free. During that time he also meet the first person he would come to care deeply about. Arthur found him one day struggling to stay warm and invited him back to a small shelter he used. The two of them formed a bond over the next year as they took care of each other. He also found himself enjoying sex again as his body moved often with the other man. He didn't see a future with the two of them as they continued to live day by day but it was nice knowing that there was someone waiting for him. Until one day there wasn't.
Arthur died in vain and Sherlock never knew why. The police ruled it a drug deal gone bad but no one could tell him for sure why Arthur had been found in the streets after London froze. He demanded to talk to the lead detective on the case but was instead referred to his understudy a Detective Lestrade. Greg had him arrested when it was clear he was high out of his mind but he was soon back on the streets. Lost, he stopped returning to the small place the two had shared and lived roughly. One night, in a moment of severe desperation he even tried to join Arthur in his eternal rest. The next week he spent in the hospital was the last time he would see Mycroft for almost two years though he did run into Lestrade several times as the Detective started trying to make a name for himself.
Lestrade tried to get him to rehab or at least off of the drugs that ruled his life but Sherlock never cared enough to listen. He had given up all hope that he would live long enough to see the age of 30 and just wandered the streets surviving. He had no access to his trust fund, avoided people he knew from the past, and just disappeared among the many homeless who lived in the streets of London. He didn't actively try to die again but he put no effort into stopping it from happening. He didn't really know how long he lived in the strange limbo of life and death until he found himself in the alleyway that would change his life.
To this day he wasn't sure how he ended up there or why the men had chosen him. Mycroft could have probably told him if he asked but the subject never came up and he couldn't bring himself to ask why the men had targeted him. Why they had abused him in that alley before leaving him for dead. He should have died that night but a young man stumbled across him on the way home after taking a shortcut through the alley. The police had been called about a body that was found and upon arriving realized he was alive rushing him to the hospital. He had been a John Doe, a nobody, as they cleaned his body repairing the damage. It was only when Lestrade showed up with another officer that anybody realized he had a name.
"Mycroft," Sherlock had whispered unable to raise his voice but desperate for his brother to make things right like he had when they were children.
"You want Mycroft?" Lestrade asked him to make sure he was hearing Sherlock right. He had heard the name before as Sherlock ranted that his good for nothing brother was stalking him and refusing to give him access to a trust fund that was rightfully his. He would have put it down to drug-fueled nonsense only Sherlock still had a bright mind despite his rantings. He could look at a crime scene and call them idiots even when he was obviously high.
"Please," Sherlock had answered and that request changed his life. He got clean and to everyone's surprise, including his own, celebrated his 30th birthday. Now he was well on his way to the age of 32 living with a man who actually cared for him despite his past. He just wasn't sure that he could ever have sex with John in the way he wanted and despite what John said about giving up sex for him, he didn't believe him. Mike had told him about John's adventures as three Continents Watson. He wasn't sure if the tales were over-exaggerated but he didn't want to risk John going somewhere else despite him claiming he would be fine without sex.
Rolling out of bed, he moved to the window picking up one of his cigarettes. He lit it breathing the smoke out into the cool night air. The night seemed almost calm as he looked at the brightly lit streets but he knew the truth. London was never calm and it was easy to get lost among the streets if one knew how. It would be easy for him to disappear among the homeless again hiding in the underbelly of London away from the prying eyes of Mycroft. Maybe one day he would again but for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to the future. A future with John by his side. Finishing the cigarette, he flicked it out the window. Making his way across the room, he went out to the living room to find John sitting in his chair.
"Can't sleep?" John asked him as he curled up in his own chair laying his head down on the arm. He didn't bother to answer the question as it was obvious he couldn't sleep since he was out here with John rather than tucked into his bed.
"That was good," Sherlock told John softly. "What you did tonight."
"I am glad you think so. I know you have been wanting to see the scar on my shoulder," John responded. Sherlock couldn't tell him that he wanted to see more but he couldn't, not yet. Instead, he stared at John hoping that he would understand. He wasn't sure what John saw in his eyes but John smiled at him as he stood up. He came closer to the chair offering Sherlock his hand. "Let's go back to bed."
Sherlock took John's hand allowing him to pull him to his feet before leading him back to Sherlock's bedroom. Together they settled on his bed with his head once more on John's chest listening to his heart as John wrapped his arms around him. He felt John kiss the top of his head softly as he closed his eyes. Even if their relationship didn't proceed any further, he decided that he could get used to listening to John's heart as he drifted off to sleep. Feeling safe, he drifted quickly off to sleep, unaware that John once more lay awake staring at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do to help the man who had been hurt by so many in the past and how he was going to explain the medical conference without making it sound like he was running. He sighed kissing the top of Sherlock's head once more. Sherlock sighed in his sleep snuggling closer unaware of John's internal conflict.