Don't Look Back

by Apprentice08

John, ever the soldier, has always kept his early years to himself. Given the nature of his relationship with Sherlock and the man's abilities, he supposed he never thought he needed to share. When Harry shows up drunk saying their step-father is out of prison all hell breaks loose and the cycle of abuse he thought he had escaped starts all over again. READ INFO INSIDE johnlock

3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for reading guys, and your awesome review Kain! Not much to say before this chapter accept warnings and disclaimers. Hope you enjoy, if you like it R&R and I will see about chapter four.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pedophilia and swearing, loooooots of swearing. Trauma, angst, assault physical altercation, etc. Oh yeah….discussions of erections, pricks, cocks and homosexuality….the best thing ever!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, I have no affiliation with Rihanna or her peeps, I make NO royalties and am using this as a form of creative expressionism and not for profit entertainment…..hopefully that will cover my arse.

Chapter Three

Love on the Brain

Sherlock wakes up slowly. His mind is instantly sharp and alert, the room coming into view crystal clear. He is well aware of John, still behind him, holding onto him tightly and he lets out a small moan and shifts closer, his face pressing into Sherlock's neck.

Though his body remains relaxed, his heart starts to beat faster and blood instantly drains down to his groin.

"That's new." he murmurs softly and he snakes a hand down carefully to feel himself through his pants.

Sherlock is on his side, legs scissored apart, as he feels an arm under his neck, another wrapped lazily over his side and foreign legs entangled in his own.

He is aggressive even in his sleep, holding firmly, holding me in a way that makes him feel secure, in control.

While his heart seems to be racing, the common physical response given his emotional attachment to the man behind him, his mind remains calm and clear as his deductions come into focus.

He ignores the aching throb between his legs, not used to having to deal with such a thing as upon waking his mind usually hums with thoughts, and instead focuses on the problem at hand.

John.

He takes a slow breath as he studies the wall before him, lit up with the shine of a new day, and a new fragrance suddenly assaults his overdeveloped sense of smell.

John, again. He muses as he knows the man's natural smell from several yards away but has never had such a close proximity as to feel like he is being encompassed.

Bacon, aftershave and baby wipes.

The smells on the surface hide most of his natural scent, but he closes his eyes and focuses solely on pulling forth the scent buried underneath, something reminiscent of the outside…

Earthy, natural….woody maybe...similar to oak or pine...maybe cedar...masculine….sturdy… solid.

Sherlock starts to store this information but is drawn from his mind palace when his prick twitches and his eyes open, he thinks on the fact that his erection responds quickly to John's smell.

Taking a breath, Sherlock forces himself to imagine he is alone and he just about breaks away from it, the intoxicating pull of sentiment and sex, when John shifts behind him, pressing hips into his bum and Sherlock suddenly finds himself gritting his teeth when he feels John's prick harden against him.

"For God's sake, John. You make this intolerable." He whispers.

The man behind him, a heavy sleeper despite his traumatic upbringing, gives a small groan as he shifts again, "Cover? What cover? What are we doing? Is there a case?" John slurs sleepily and his hand drags across Sherlock's chest, nails scraping his skin and then John grips his hip.

"Dear God, wake up you fool." Sherlock murmurs as his prick twitches again and he shifts himself to lay more fully on his belly to try and rid himself of this sudden foreign problem.

John seems to pursue him and adjusts to lay nearly on top, a hand snaking into Sherlock's hair and the man shutters out, "John."

Sherlock grows irritated, not by the man's presence, no he craves that most days, but by the fact he is helpless in doing anything about the ache between his legs and the pressure building in his stomach.

"Focus." Sherlock snaps at himself angrily and he finally manages, after some time, to reach a quasi sustainable middle ground of half aroused but mostly focused.

Help John, fix John, Save John Watson.

PAGEBREAK

'And you got me like oh, what you want from me? What you want from me?'

John looks around the room, the music wafting through the air in a lazy manner, softly echoing in the background, black edges cutting off his view of the other occupants, though he can hear them chattering softly just beyond.

He looks around, glances down at himself to see he is dressed in his normal clothes, his gun in hand and he spins in confusion as he tries to find someone else.

'And I tried to buy your pretty heart, but the price is too high. Baby you got me like oh, mm-'

He walks to the edge of the light, too anxious to go explore the darkness beyond, he stops and stares with curiosity into the shadows.

"Hello? Hello? Anyone?" He waits but the soft din of chattering people continue, the music gently emitting into the air, occasionally a slightly louder laugh can be heard or the tinkling of dishware but otherwise he seems to be beyond their view.

'You love when I fall apart, fall apart. So you can put me together and throw me against the wall.'

"Would someone please answer me? That would be...lovely….yeah...hello!" He calls waving a hand at the dark and just when he is about to start yelling he hears someone call his name.

"John." He swings around quick to find Sherlock standing, poised as ever, sans his Belstaff, his bespoken suit clean and pressed, hands held firmly behind his back.

'Baby, you got me like ah, woo, ah, don't you stop loving me, loving me, don't quit loving me, loving me, Just start loving me, loving me, babe.'

"You're blowing our cover, John." He says darkly, a rather annoyed look plastered on his face.

John cocks his head but doesn't question the man as he crosses the space swiftly, more than ready for answers.

"Sherlock...Sherlock they're people over there. I can hear them but they won't say a thing." His tone is relaxed, casual, and as he comes to stand before the detective he looks at him in confusion, "Sherlock, hey, there are people-"

"People? Of course there are people, it's a party and you are blowing our cover." And suddenly the darkness is gone and John is being swung around a dance floor, the gun pressed between their two hands.

Familiar and unfamiliar faces come in and out of sight around him before he looks to his partner only to remember he is dancing with Sherlock.

"What the hell are you doing!" He asks angrily, "People will talk!" irritability and discomfort sneaking into his voice.

"Of course they will, that's what people do, it's the point." Sherlock says assuredly.

"What is? Cover? What cover? What are we doing? Is there a case?"

"There is always a case John, and right now we have them right where we want them." Sherlock says giving him a small dip before spinning off with him again.

'Oh, and, babe, I'm fist-fighting with fire, just to get close to you. Can we burn something, babe? And I'll run for miles just to get a taste! Must be love on the brain!'

"Sherlock, I don't understand, what is the case and why does it require our dancing?" Sherlock pulls him closer, their groins meeting and John jerks away but Sherlock pulls him back, "Don't run from me, we have to appear as if we are together. Wayne will see through our guise if you can't relax."

'That's got me feeling this way, feeling this way, it beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good and I can't get enough. Must be love on the brain, yeah!'

John feels his insides grow cold as he speaks, "What, Wayne? He's here?"

Sherlock's face, alight with the excitement of the game, nods his head in the direction immediately behind John and he looks to see Wayne dancing around the floor with a small girl in his arms.

John has no words he can speak at the utter horror that fills his body, for he knows who the little girl is and the younger much more vital version of his Step-father is looking at a laughing Rosie with such euphoric eyes.

"No, no!" John says as he tries to yank away from Sherlock, the man continuing to hold on easily, despite Johns aggressive tugs towards the pair.

"John!" Sherlock hisses, "He is just baiting you, don't fall for it. He won't hurt Rosie-"

"He's a pedophile Sherlock, a disgusting degenerate who is currently holding my daughter, please, let me go, I can't let him touch her! Not her, not my Rosie!" and tears flood his eyes at the thought, anger burning in him brighter than anything he has ever felt.

"He is using her to get to you, if he succeeds he will try to take you from me." Sherlock says softly, he pulls John close again and this time the man does not resist as the comment that just passed Sherlocks lips gets his full attention.

'And it keeps cursing my name, cursing my name. No matter what I do I'm no good without you and I can't get enough, must be love on the brain.'

John tightens his hold on Sherlock, the lusty look in Wayne's eyes making John want to castrate the man with a butter knife.

He turns back to his partner and brings a hand to the back of his head, "Don't, don't let him have her Sherlock. Don't let him touch a single hair on her head, sweet Jesus, I am trusting you-" and his voice cracks and his throat feels sore, he doesn't want to be at the party anymore, every spin is terrifying, every dip makes him nauseous and his urge to grab up his daughter and spirit her away is nearly overpowering, the instinctive draw of the parent who knows their child is in danger.

He hears a throaty chuckle from his companion and he looks up at him with shock, "No need to worry, John. As long as we are together, as long as we work together she will always be safe from the Wayne Harvey's of the world, and so will you."

John lets out a blast of relief, a smile coming to his face, "Thank god for you, th-thank god."

'Then you keep loving me, just keep loving me, yeah. Just love me. All you need to do is love me yeah, got me like ah-ah-ah-ow.'

John keeps his eyes locked on Wayne, the man still spinning and dancing with his daughter but doing little else until finally their eyes meet.

The man smiles cruelly, taking up Rosie's little hand and waving it at him, he mouths out a 'Hi, daddy.' before he seems to laugh viciously and spin away.

"Sherlock, Sherlock he is taking her! We have to go, have to save her, get her away-" and he pulls away again but Sherlock yanks him close, "Leave it, he is trying to trick you, trying to lure you out like he always does. You'd think as a self-recognized child molester he would be aware of his latent homosexual desires but apparently he needed to hide it behind the guise of wanting the fairer sex...explains a lot about you." Sherlock quips.

John looks at him with anger, his jaw clenching indignantly, "What does?"

'I'm tired of being played like a violin, what do I gotta do to get in your motherfuckin' heart?'

"There see, Rosie is just fine. Not a hair on her head out of place, told you it was a trap. This case gets better and better." and John looks to see Rosie happily sitting on the lap of Molly Hooper who is bouncing her and making funny noises, the woman looking up and waving at them with excitement.

"He didn't, he didn't touch her?" John asks in confusion.

"No, haven't you been through this before with Mary? He never wanted Harry, or Rosie or anyone...he just wanted you, his special boy, his Johnny boy. I bet he never told you."

"Told me what?" John asks with a sick feeling in his belly as he looks up to his friend, not wanting to hear what Sherlock has to say.

"How much he loved you."

John finally yanks away from the man and puts his hands over his ears to block out the echoing of that comment but the music stays, suddenly blasting louder as he looks around at the people still dancing, the music chanting like a tribal tune in his head, 'Baby like ah, woo, ah. Don't you stop loving me, loving me, don't quit loving me, loving me, just start loving me, loving me, babe.'

He rushes through the crowd, trying to reach his daughter but as he crashes into people and gets shoved around hd trips and his body twists awkwardly.

Suddenly everyone disappears and John sits up to see the dark edges have returns, the space empty save for himself and Sherlock.

His eyes grow wide as he looks at the man standing three yards away with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, cold blue eyes piercing him as the light accents the top of his head, shoulders and cheekbones.

They stare at each other for sometime, neither saying anything, John breathing heavily from his sudden bout of panic.

'Oh, and, babe, I'm fist-fighting with fire, just to get close to you, can we burn something babe? And I'll run for miles, just to get a taste, must be love on the brain!"

"I could protect you forever, you know I have the means to do so." Sherlock finally says and he slowly starts walking towards him, "You'd like that wouldn't you? Feeling loved and secure for the first time in your life."

John shakes his head, "I'd do anything, tell myself anything, just to keep him the hell away from me. To get him out of my head, your a blanket, a security blanket, nothing more, Sherlock." he says thinking of Wayne with disgust and about his feelings for Sherlock with fear.

"Watson-" Sherlock says softly and he comes to stand before John's fallen form; his eyes looking down with a hard knowing glare, "Stop lying and for once in your miserable life, listen to yourself. Stop inflicting your denial on the rest of the world and allow yourself to be happy."

John continues to maintain eye contact, he feels the wash of anger across his face, his jaw clenching again and he shakes his head, "I am happy."

"Lier." Sherlock says in that deep soothing voice of his, John feeling a shiver erupt over his skin.

He grows even more angry and then stands quickly, stepping into Sherlock's personal space and bringing his face within inches of this infuriorating man, " I don't know why I am doing this to myself, why I am torturing myself with this...with Wayne, with you….but...I WILL NOT let you talk me into something I don't want just because I am lonely."

Suddenly the music swells around them and John continues to stare into those sharp blue eyes, refusing to back down from his own stubborn certainty that his feelings for Sherlock are platonic and nothing more.

'Must be love on the brain! That's got me feeling this way, feeling this way, it beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good and I can't get enough-"

"I can protect you, John, I can help you," and Sherlock leans closer, "all you have to do is trust me" and the tip of his nose grazes John's cheek and lips come to his ear, "All you have to do-" John's eyes flutter closed, his head shaking in the negative as his hands jump up to fist the man's suit angrily. He knows he is leaning in to the gentle caresses, feels Sherlock's lips run over his cheeks and his jaw before skirting up to his eyes, pressing kisses onto each.

'Must be love on the brain! And it keeps cursing my name, cursing my name. Not matter what I do I'm no good without you and I can't get enough-'

John shutters, feels his heart pounding erratically in his chest and he whispers out an angry curse, "Trust me." Sherlock whispers and he pulls back just enough to softly bring their lips together.

'Must be love on the brain!"

John wakes with a small jerk, fear of a different kind filling his stomach and he sits up quickly.

"Was that...did I….did we….oh hell." He shutters out, his head throbbing and his eyes swimming through the room in a dizzy mess.

"Did we what?" And the doctor looks over in shock to see Sherlock pressing up from him side, his voice sounding groggy as he slowly leans over sideways and stretches.

John tries to shake his head clean before he looks at Sherlock again and sees him more clearly. His body pulled tight as skin stretches over lean muscles and the heat in his cheeks makes him look away.

The man then sits there, knees up, forearms perches on top and hands dangling as he looks at John with a confused and curious face.

John can think of nothing to say, his mind continuing to go back and replay that same moment over and over only to find he has no feelings on it one way or the other. The kiss, the way he had felt in the dream. He is numb now, confused, no anger or aggression but also no arousal that he notices.

He looks at the bed, seeing the shared blanket, the shared space, knowing he held the man next to him in the night and suddenly he feels a very faint pull in his lower abdomen.

His eyes scan back to Sherlock, the man still staring as he cocks an eyebrow, "John-"

Suddenly static hisses to life on the baby monitor and Rosie can be heard calling to him, "Da Da Da Da-"

"Rosie! Yes, Rosie!" And John jerks out of bed with a gasp of relief.

"Have to take care of little Rosie. Sweet, beautiful wonderful perfectly timed Rosie. That's brilliant." He says as he takes up the monitor and reaches for the door.

He pulls it open only to stop and look at Sherlock who is still watching him carefully, "Gotta take this, mate. Make some coffee, yeah?" Sherlock gives a nod but suddenly his mouth parts slightly, his eyes just giving the most subtle glance down and John follows his look only to jerk and cover himself.

His hard prick has been peeking out his boxers and he drops the baby monitor in his haste to put it away.

Sherlock makes a move to get it and John holds up a finger, "Ah! No, stay...right there, Sherlock. I can...I will just…" and he reaches down, his fingers splaying out as their eyes remain in a deadlock.

Neither blink, John both covering his manhood and awkwardly reaching for the little white box.

"Just a little more….got it!" John stands and he quickly vacates the room and then slams the door. He leans against it a moment, glancing down at his erection and then up at the ceiling. He grits his teeth, clenches his eyes closed and brings the baby monitor to his forehead.

He calms his breathing and then hears laugh in the back of his mind, his step-father's voice rolling through him, "Never were that bright."

"Oh, fuck off you nasty old pedophile." And he presses up from the door, suddenly forgetting about the fact his best friend had just possibly given him a rod, however unintentional it was.

PAGEBREAK

They eat breakfast in silence, well, John eats, Sherlock sips his coffee, feeds Rosie in a rather playful manner and occasionally snatches a small piece of bacon.

John's plate is empty in front of him, his coffee half full and the paper opened to the local news section as his eyes scan.

It is the closest thing to a normal morning they have had in months. Given the fact that Moriarty had led to Magnusson and than Magnussen led to Mary's double life and her subsequent passing which led to Culverton Smith and then to Sherlock's evil and mentally disturbed sister, Eurus.

They had only had three months of partial freedom from strain before the Wayne and Harry fiasco.

Meanwhile everything in between was a whirlwind of cases, drug overdoses, rehabilitation, therapy sessions, near murders, mental breakdowns and a lot of anger, pain and suffering.

It has been two hours since they woke up. Sherlock made coffee and took over watching Rosie while John prepared breakfast and retrieved the paper.

They sat down about thirty minutes ago, ate in relative quiet and seemed happy to be doing so, the silence so relaxing that John is in heaven. Neither had mentioned the awkward wake up and Sherlock seemed just as ready as John to let it go.

Normal, I want to be normal for a change, just for a day, dear god can we please be normal for just one single-

"John?" Sherlock asks as he brings a spoon of mashed bananas up to Rosie's mouth.

And there it goes...

"Yes?" He asks as he gives a shake to straighten his paper and then turns the page.

"I was just wondering." the man says curiously as he dips the spoon back into the mash.

John feels his irritation grow, "Don't get mad," he whispers softly as he goes on to ask "Yes, what is it, Sherlock?"

"Do you normally wake up with an erection or is our earlier encounter unusual?"

John closes his eyes, grits his teeth and lips out silently to the heavens, "I am going to kill him, Mary, I swear to God." before he readjusts his paper and says, "Drop it, Sherlock." his voice flat and uninterested while his heart starts to race, heat floods his face and the back of his neck and he clears his throat.

"Seriously? You don't want to talk about that? Odd." Sherlock says, his voice rising up in surprise even though it retains a casual air and he feeds Rosie another spoon.

John drops his paper and glares at the man, "My daughter is in the room, at the table, Sherlock! She is right there!" And he jabs a thumb in her direction and finds he is fuming mad at the fact the man seemingly knew to bring up the very thing John had been glad they were avoiding.

"I wouldn't worry, studies have shown it's highly unlikely children remember anything before the age of six anyway, why don't you want to talk about it?"

"Why do you want to talk about it!" he yells and Rosie slaps the table happily as she looks at her father's agitated face.

Sherlock stops what he is doing and looks at John in confusion, "Isn't that what friends do? Talk about things that they find curious?"

John looks at him, Sherlock's usual demeanor and vocal expressions dominate, no hint of a trick, and he suddenly becomes very aware that Sherlock might not be teasing him.

"Don't you?" John suddenly asks in shock, "It's normal, by the way, in case you were wondering." he adds.

"What?" Sherlock questions quickly back.

John can't believe how dense the man is being this morning and he slams his paper on the table and leans closer, "Waking up with...with…"

"With what, an erection? Nooo." He says with a tone of casual ease, "I tend to wake up using my other head, but I suppose that's the difference between man and...beast?" and he smirks rather happily at the thought.

And John leans back in his chair, taking a measured look at his friend before crossing his arms, "Alright, Sherlock, alright, fine... I'll play your little game, what about this morning?"

The man looks at him and his brow drops, "What about it?" He asks.

"You didn't wake up with a...with a...a thing?" John says tactfully as he chews on his bottom lip in discomfort. His hands fisting dangerously tight on the table.

God, why does he want to talk about it, why can't he ever let anything go? He knows I don't want to, he must be toying with me, fucking prick...

"A thing?" Sherlock seems confused and John rolls his head in agony, "Oh my god, Sherlock! With a thing...the thing we are bloody talking about!"

"An erection?"

"Why do you have to say it!" John laughs in stressed disbelief at the man's gule.

"Why can't you? You are a doctor after all, I would think that's rather par for the course. Maybe you're not so good after all."

"Oh my God!" And John stands in utter frustration before he spins back and yells loudly, "Erection! Erection! Erection! Erection! My name is John Watson and this morning I woke up with a massive bulging erection!"

He stops dead as he sees Sherlock about to burst, his hand coming to his mouth, spoon flinging banana mush onto the table before he loses it completely and John asks him, "What? What is it? Sherlock?" And the man points, John turns only to find Mrs. Hudson standing in the doorway of the kitchen holding a tray of biscuits and tea and a look of utter horror on her face.

"Oh my god." John sags down and looks at the women with disheartened eyes.

She walks by him, sets the tray on the table and then crosses back, patting him on the shoulder, "Really, John. You know better than that, he set you up from a mile away." And then she is gone.

John looks to Sherlock and the man has tears in his eyes, a high pitched laugh popping out of him as he tries to calm down.

John puts his fists on the table as he looks at the man and then hangs his head, a smirk hidden from Sherlock's view as he realizes what Sherlock just did.

He always finds ways to surprise you John, maybe someday, you could really have a go at surprising him?

"Yeah, that'd be nice." he murmurs as he glances at his friend who is still trying to stop laughing and finally, despite his frustration, he feels a small laugh trickle from his throat and he runs a tongue over the inside of his cheek as he embraces that familiar surge of affection for the awful awful man as it radiates in his chest.

"You're an utter cock." he says as he looks at his friend and stands.

"True." Sherlock says, finally coming down and the silence that flows is thick and they glance at each other and John shakes his head, "Don't do it." John warns.

"No, of course. I shouldn't." Sherlock nods in agreement as his fingers drum on the table.

"Yeah, you really shouldn't." John warns again but he can see Sherlock is struggling against himself to keep quiet.

And Sherlock tilts his head playfully, "Still-"

"Stop." John bites in frustration.

Sherlock suddenly leans across the table desperately, "But it was soooooo obvious! Just- do you ever hang things from it?"

"What?" John snaps in shock.

"Rather like a flagpole, you could display the Queen's coat of arms." and Sherlock loses it again and this time, no matter how much he doesn't want to, John starts laughing too, looking to the ceiling in disbelief.

PAGEBREAK

The day progresses slowly, the flat quiet, not a single client coming to ask for assistance.

The men spend the day entertaining and caring for Rosie, Sherlock playing his violin for her and John updating his blog and reading his book. He savours this time with his daughter, the anger settling down into its old place near the bottom of his stomach, sleeping and remaining blessedly silent.

He smiles often as he watches Sherlock interact with his daughter, who is more than loving towards the socially inept man and he wonders what their relationship will be in the future, his daughter eventually reaching the ages of pre-teen, teenager and than young adult and beyond.

John's thoughts are suddenly answered when Rosie points to him and says, "Da!" John nods, "Good, very good." and he smiles at Sherlock happily, the man returning his satisfaction with a smirk as he sits on the couch and bounces Rosie on his knee.

Her little digits turn and point to Sherlock and she says softly, "Ma!"

John stills as his heart gives a sharp lurch, his smile fading and he glances to Sherlock who also has lost his smile, the man looking down guiltily and then glancing to John to see what his reaction is.

He waits a moment, a thought forming in his head before he hesitantly stands from his chair and crosses to them on the couch, sitting down he takes up Rosie's hand and brings it to his chest, "Rosie, hey, Rosie girl, look at me." her eyes look to him and she says, "Da!"

"Yes. Da, now look at him." and Sherlock looks away awkwardly, his eyes scanning the floor.

"Papa." John says carefully and Sherlock's face jerks back in shock, "Papa, can you say papa?"

Rosie looks up at Sherlock and he gives a faint smile, "Papa." John says again and Rosie gives a very soft, "Pa….pa….pa…"

"Yes, brilliant. Dada-" and he brings her hand to his chest, "Dada."

He then places her tiny hand on Sherlock's arm, "Papa." he says softly.

He looks up to Sherlock who is staring at him with unusually open eyes, shining brightly with such gratitudes to be granted the permission of a parental title that John is momentarily stunned.

Their eyes remain locked for several seconds and John feels something flutter in his chest, his eyes glancing to Sherlock's lips before jerking back up to his bright eyes, "John-" Sherlock says softly and John shakes his head gently, "Damn you-" he whispers to his friend with a soft somewhat angry frown as he feels his body lean forward.

"Sherlock! John! Yewhoo!" Comes Mrs. Hudson's call from the stairs and the two men jerk apart, John snatching up Rosie and standing to cross the room.

Pressing her to his chest as he kisses the top of her head, glancing over her to his friend who is also standing, hands fisting tightly at his sides as lustful blue eyes stare at him from under his curly hair.

John feels his mouth part slightly at such a stormy look but when Mrs. Hudson enters he turns away.

She glances between them happily, stopping suddenly as she looks at them both with worry, "Oh, you two have a domestic?" she asks.

"No, course not. Why do you think-" but John is cut off by Greg and Donovan entering the room. John instantly sees the look on Donovan's face, stunned beyond belief to notice the red puffy eyes and a near desperate look about her face.

"We need your help." Greg says quickly and John and Sherlock look at each other and give a nod, both saying silently that it is time to focus and anything else doesn't matter.

PAGEBREAK

Sherlock sits in his chair, John across from him and Sally and Greg stand there awkwardly, the silence has stretched on for several minutes. Mrs. Hudson has taken Rosie down to her flat, leaving the boy's their much needed focus.

"Is someone going to say something?" John asks as he looks between the two and Greg nudges Donovan, the woman giving him a glare as she crosses her arms protectively around herself before she steps forward and sits in the chair.

This seems to surprise even Sherlock who cocks a brow as his eyes glance to John and then back to the woman, who until recently, had harassed Sherlock quite often.

"I….I need your help." she says begrudgingly.

Sherlock speaks, "Obviously. You wouldn't set foot in this flat otherwise. What is it? Can't find a boyfriend that will stick around?" he snips sharply.

Sally instantly stands, "I told you it's a waste of time, let's get the hell out of here-"

"Sit down Donovan." Sherlock barks and she looks at him defiantly, "Sorry if your pride is more important than the fact you've lost your… sister… now that is interesting. You're what? Late thirties? Yet you have a kid sister, your parents must be very happily married if they are still producing offspring."

"Sherlock-" John warns and the man looks at him and sighs, "Yes, of course, I digress, now sit down and tell me what happened,"

The woman sits with a plop into the chair and stairs at him with a rather begrudging respect, still she has been privy to his abilities for years so instead of asking how he knew she simply starts telling her story.

"She is my half sister...the best anyone could ask for. It doesn't matter she is from a different da, I love her...I will do anything to protect her. I'd give my life for her."

"Yet, you've lost her...how did it happen?" Sally fists her hands and swallows as she looks down, "My mum….died last year, breast cancer. Macey's da is...not….he isn't a fit parent. I've been in a custody battle since mum died. Make no mistake, Mr. Holmes, I will keep her away from him. Even if I have to take her-" Greg puts his hand on her shoulder, "Don't say anything in front of me Sally, you know I would have to report it."

"Right...yes...stupid. Greg has been helping me with my case. Gathering evidence, trying to...help me prove Macey's father is...a monster."

"A monster? How do you mean?" John asks and Sherlock's eyes jump to him quickly.

Greg inhales deeply as he runs a hand over the top of his head, "Well, we haven't got hard evidence to link him to anything, but Sally has found-"

"Bruises. And...I know him. My da died when I was eleven. A few years later mum met Graham and...I know first hand what he is capable of." Sally pulls up the sleeve of her shirt and exposes several scars that run from her wrist up her forearm and disappear under the fabric.

"Jesus." John whispers, his eyes wide and locked onto the scars and his jaw clenches as he looks at the woman with a new pair of eyes.

"Have you shown this to child services, to anyone who could affect the outcome of your custody battle?" Sherlock asks.

Sally nods, "It's all documented, I've given testimony and my attorneys think the case will be over soon. It's a shoe in." She says though her voice is hardly thrilled.

"We think that's why Graham nabbed her." Greg says finally, "He knew he wouldn't have a chance once Donovan provided the evidence against him. Took little Macey at the park."

"I got...sloppy." Donovan says as she licks her lips and she clearly tries to fight the tears in her eyes, "Stupid, so stupid...a fool...I was so happy...to know she was finally going to be safe...that I wouldn't be alone anymore...and I just...stupid!" and she lets out a sob and Greg puts his hand on her shoulder.

Sally suddenly looks up, her face smeared with bereavement and pain, "I don't care if you hate me Sherlock, you can hold this over my head the rest of my life, but don't turn me away because if you do you will be turning Macey away and she has done nothing to deserve punishment for my actions."

Sherlock stares at her a moment, looks to John who is still looking dumbstruck at the woman before him.

He sucks in a breath and suddenly stands, buttoning his suit jack and looking at Donovan with almost kind eyes, "I will help you, under one condition." he says holding up a finger.

She looks up at him and says quickly, "Anything, anything you want."

He holds out his hand to her and says, "When I find her, you make sure Graham gets a very lengthy stay in Pentonville for his actions against Macey...and for the crimes he has committed against you."

To everyone's surprise the barest trace of a smile crosses Donovan's face and she tentatively takes his hand and stands, "No worries, he'll be black and blue by the time I am done with him." she says and then digs in her pocket, pulling out a picture.

She hands it to Sherlock and he see it's of Sally and Macey, both smiling happily at the camera. Macey is nearly a spitting image of Sally, thou her skin is a shade darker than Donovan's and her jaw is less square.

"We look more like our mum than either of our da's, look for me in a crowd and you will find her." she says softly and Sherlock nods.

"Give us a moment, Lestrade, we will join you shortly at the park, which one?" Sherlock asks.

"Regents." He says and then he puts a hand on Sally's shoulder, the woman still looking at Sherlock with a face of disbelief and he nods at her, she nods back and then Greg guides her to the stairs.

The silence has reverted to that thick uncomfortable thing, Sherlock standing there stiffly as he stares at the picture in his hand.

Seeing a Donovan he knows nothing about, a true smile, happy eyes and a loving hand on her sister's shoulder.

John's eyes have settled on the floor, also starring as his brain cranks furiously through his entire history of knowing Donovan. Never stopping to consider why the woman was so harsh and seemingly judgmental. It is easy, as a woman, he supposes, to be leary of any person who might come off as different from the norm. Her experiences with Graham fueling her dislike of a strange man like Sherlock.

"Displacement." John says softly.

"It's always the angry ones." Sherlock muses soon after.

"What?" and John looks up, notices Sherlock is still staring at the picture.

"Nothing." the man says shaking his head.

John stands and goes to grab his coat, his mind obviously elsewhere as Sherlock watches him pace the room. When he is suited up he stops and looks at Sherlock, "Ready? Sherlock?"

The man's eyes finally met John's, "Hmm?" he asks.

"I said, are you ready? We have to go, the trail could get cold if we wait-"

"The trail won't be hard to find. This was a slap dash plan at best. Graham took her out of desperation, must have got word that Sally was going to talk. Knew he had no chance once she gave evidence against him. Grabbed the girl more so in an attempt to keep control and to hurt Donovan. He isn't trying to be clever...he just wants one last dig at the woman who took away his daughter."

And Sherlock sees Wayne Harvey standing in the room with them, glaring at Sherlock and his brow furrows as the sudden similarity strikes him.

You had no intention of taking John… or Harry….you had no plan...you just wanted to stir up trouble….wanted to stir up John...you knew he would self-destruct...knew your very presence would unbalance him...cause him to lash out...to get into trouble...to lose everything just like you did.

The latent image of Harvey staring at him with a smirk makes Sherlock look away and he sees

John's eyes are angry as he stares at him, "Yeah, right, fine... okay, now let's go! There is a little girl out there scared and caught up in a mess she knows nothing about. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get her back."

"No." Sherlock says, finally deciding to look at him.

"What? No? What do you mean no?" John snaps.

"Not we, John. Just me. You will stay here." and Sherlock moves to grab his coat and take up his scarf.

"Like hell I will-"

"You. Will. Stay!" Sherlock suddenly says with much more force than is his usual and John stops, looking at the man cautiously.

Sherlock lets a gush of air escape through his nose as he glares at the man knowingly, "You are too close to this. Just two days ago you're abusive step-father showed up out of the blue and brought back every thing that makes you a very dangerous person. Don't you see?"

"See what?" John asks.

"He never had any intention of winning that battle, he was just baiting you. Trying to create within you the conflict he knew was there, had always been there. He knew just his presence would create a downward spiral in your life, create a chaos you might not be able to pull away from."

John says nothing as he stares at his friend from under a very angry brow, "If I let you go out there, if I let you close to this man….you might-"

"What?" John asks in a low, gravelly voice.

Sherlock studies his face and then swings his coat over his shoulders, "Do something we both regret."

John shakes his head adamantly, "No, no Sherlock you know me better than that. I can control myself better than you are giving me credit-"

"Can you?" Sherlock asks as his eyes dart to the hole in the wall and he says sharply, "Colton Blakey might disagree."

John's eyes scan to the hole and he instantly grows annoyed, "That's different!"

"How?" Sherlock counters, "How is it different?" When John doesn't respond Sherlock nods, knowing his decision is correct, "You won't be able to stop yourself. I can already see it in your eyes, he is just another Wayne Harvey to you, you can't separate him from your step-father and I don't intend to be the one who puts you in that situation."

Sherlock goes to leave and John grabs his shoulder, "NO!" Sherlock suddenly yells and John jerks back in shock.

The man looks away regretfully and then takes a breath as he peers down to his friend, "I am….sorry, John, but you are staying here. I will find the girl and be back within a few hours, before nightfall."

"And what am I supposed to do until then? Just sit here like some mental patient while you go out and have all the fun?"

Sherlock clenches his eyes shut, knowing John is just being an arsehole because he doesn't want to admit Sherlock is right, "Just….go downstairs, spend time with your daughter. There will be other cases, ones that won't put you in harms way."

John bites his lips to keep from saying something hateful and Sherlock finally turns and leaves. John watching him disappear down the stairs, the anger which has been sleeping most of the day suddenly roaring to life and he lets out a frustrated bark of a laugh as he looks to the window and crosses his arms over his chest.

PAGEBREAK

It takes four hours to track down Graham and his daughter, the two having been held up in a warehouse on the outskirts of Brighton. It had been the easiest trail to follow, clues glaringly obvious for anyone who knew how and where to look.

The hard part was keeping Graham from doing something drastic once they had him cornered on the roof of the building. Macey's terrified and dirty face looking at Sherlock, Greg and Sally with a desperate longing.

"You've lost, but you don't have to punish Macey for it." Sherlock says as he holds up his hands, taking a step closer.

"Stay back, Macey is mine! She is my baby girl! She belongs with me and I don't intend to let that cunt have her!" He says pointing his gun at Sally.

"You bastard! I know you've been hurting her! You don't deserve to have her!"

"Sally!" Macey shrieks and the man holding her gives a violent shake, "Shut up, Macey! You are with me now! I am your daddy, I know what is best for you!"

"Stop hurting her!" Sally yells angrily and Sherlock instantly holds up a hand to her, "Shut up, Sally." he says gently, "Everyone should remain calm." Sherlock presses.

"You're done, Graham. Just let the girl go, come quietly and we can talk about a reduced sentence." Greg offers, his gun still trained on the man sharply.

"Lower your fucking guns or I will break her arm!" he yells suddenly, grabbing Macey's arm tightly and the girl yells.

"No! No, just...remain calm, Greg, Sally, guns down….DROP THEM NOW!" Sherlock bellows and reluctantly both set them slowly to the ground.

"Now, we've done as you've asked, hand over Macey and I promise you, no one will get hurt." Sherlock tries again, his eyes subtly scanning around for anything he could use to his advantage.

The only thing he sees is a bit of discarded rope but he thinks that may be just the thing, his mind calculating the combined strength of Sally and Greg versus his weight combined with that of the little girl before him.

Additional weight is negligible, get him to the edge, grab the rope and-

Suddenly a shot rings out and Sherlock swings around to look at the surrounding buildings as Graham gives a jerk and suddenly the hand holding the gun drops, the object clattering to the floor.

His hold on Macey's arm doesn't change though and blood blooms across his chest and the girl screams. Sherlock instantly moves, yelling as he does, "GREG, SALLY, THE ROPE! GRAB THE ROPE!"

The two instantly spring forward and as Graham backs to the edge, the shock of the bullet piercing him causing him to seemingly space on his proximity to open air, he stumbles back and falls off, pulling Macey with him.

Sherlock stoops to the rope and keeps running as he instantly dives over the edge, latching on to Macey's wrist, Graham not quit incoherent enough to let go right away and his weight yanks on the girl, now caught between Sherlock's iron grip and Grahams dead weight.

"Shake him loose Macey, SHAKE HIM OFF! KICK HIM!" Sherlock yells desperately as he hears Greg and Sally gasp from up above at the unexpected weight.

The girl instantly complies and shoves a heel into the man's nose and that seems to be it, his grips slides and he falls the remaining three stories to the ground below, splayed out like a rag doll, "No! No, Macey, look at me, that's a good girl, don't look down. Come on, climb up to me." and he pulls her up to him, thin arms wrapping around his neck as she starts to cry.

"That's a brave girl, so brave, why don't we get back to the roof. Take us up!" Sherlock calls and they start to raise back towards the sky.

Once he is close enough Sherlock helps Macey scale his body and make it to Sally who pulls her up and gives an exceedingly relieved sob.

Greg helps Sherlock over and the man freezes when he sees John standing a few yards away, eyes sharp and his Browning held in a hand at his side.

Sherlock shakes his head angrily and intends to approach the man when he is stopped by a body colliding with his own.

He looks down in shock to see Sally embracing him, her face now dry of tears but she looks up at him and with a sudden gentle smile says so softly, "Thank you."

He looks to John for a sign and the man nods once so Sherlock slowly raises his arms to embrace the woman cautiously.

She then pulls away looks to her sister who is standing next to her, "Can you say thank you to the nice man?" and Macey looks up at him, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock crouches down then, looking at the girl as a hand comes to cup her cheek, "Do me a favor, yeah?" The girl nods, "Keep your sister out of trouble?"

And he hears Sally snort at the comment but Macey nods quickly, "She is always in trouble, but I will try my best." and Sherlock smiles as he stands, looking to Sally, "Take care, Sergeant Donovan." Sherlock says softly.

The woman nods and looks to her sister, giving a grunt as she hoists her up, "Come on Macey Moo, let's go home." she quickly walks away, holding and kissing the girl desperately, "SALLY, YOU'RE SQUISHING ME!"

"The rest of my life, I will." the woman promises as she makes her way down the stairs leading from the roof.

This leaves Greg, Sherlock and John, the silver haired detective looking between the two young men who are staring hard at each other.

"You did a good thing, Sherlock. Sally will repay the favor and I think she might just stop insulting you."

"Mm, either way, she is lucky to have someone to take care of, and to be so taking care of in return." and John finally looks away at this, his eyes finding the roof far more interesting than Sherlock's disapproving eyes.

"It was a good gambit." Greg says as he tucks his gun back into his holster.

Sherlock looks at the man and Greg smirks, "Keeping John hidden like that, gave us the edge we needed. No pun intended." Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Go home Greg, I need to speak with my blogger, alone."

Greg looks between the two, only just now noticing how John has kept his distance, looks ashamed by his actions and he realizes that this was not, in fact, planned.

"Right, well….I best go down and see to the...body…"

"Yes." Sherlock muses as he places his hands firmly behind his back and continues to glare at his friend.

He glances once more between the two and shakes his head, "Yeah, definitely not my division." he quickly makes an exit, getting on the horn to report the situation and get people enroute to clean up and take statements. Whatever is going on between John and Sherlock, Greg knows, it will only bowl over whoever tries to get in the way.

PAGEBREAK

John slams the door to the warehouse open, ignoring the looks from the crime scene unit as he passes by and yells angrily at the man who follows behind, "Oh, so I'm the one being unreasonable?"

"You're shouting again." Sherlock says broodingly.

"Of course I am! Because you are a bloody hypocrite!" John says as he heads for the forest green Range Rover that he had arrived in.

"You were supposed to stay at home!" Sherlock suddenly yells back and this draws even more eyes to them.

"What am I? You're wife? Stay home, watch the baby, Jesus Sherlock, I'm not a damn invalid."

"No, of course not. You're just mentally unstable and mildly homicidal!" and John swings around, goes to poke the man in the chest and then stops when he sees all of the eyes, Greg and Sally included, looking at him in shock.

"Oh piss off!" John yells at them all and Sherlock shuts his eyes, rubbing at them in frustration as he opens the passenger side door, "Get in the car." he says, motioning with the gun for John to comply.

"There you go again, bossing me around like I am some sort of-"

"Get in the bloody car!" Sherlock hisses venomously low as he jams the gun's muzzle up under John's jaw.

If John is surprised by this he doesn't show it, his eyes shining angrily as he swallows, his friend adding on with slightly less salt, "Please."

Finally John nods and he climbs in, Sherlock slamming the door as his eyes scan the group watching them, before he raises a hand to wave and says happily in farewell, "Morning!"

He rounds to the driver side and gets in, slamming the door shut behind him, a frown now smeared on his face as he glances to his friend who is essentially pouting angrily in the seat next to him.

"How did you find the gun." Sherlock suddenly asks, that question having been plaguing his mind since he saw John holding it on the roof.

He tells himself John shouldn't have been able to find it and that the only option was that John had at some point acquired a second one without Sherlock knowing, something that makes his stomach churn in annoyance.

"Fuck off." John says dismissively.

Sherlock sighs as he starts the car, "For God's sake."

PAGEBREAK

The drive back is dangerously quiet, both men brooding in their own separate ways, John's foot up on the dash as he sags in the seat and looks out the window, his knuckles grazing back and forth across his lips.

Sherlock is staring straight ahead, his eyes on the road, but his mind spinning with what he is going to do about his suddenly rage driven, gun happy sidekick.

They reach Baker street in record time and upon entering Mrs. Hudson greets them, little Rosie bouncing happily on her hip.

John's bad moods instantly melts when he sees his daughter, reaching for her instantly but Sherlock interveins and John looks at him and narrows his eyes.

"Mrs. Hudson, aren't you do to pay your sister a visit in Edinburgh?"

Mrs. Hudson looks at him thoughtfully before she says, "Yes, I was planning to leave tomorrow actually, how did you remember that?" she asks him with a smile.

"Habits, Mrs. Hudson, are notoriously hard to break. Why don't you take little Rosamund with you, give John and I a break from our life of domestic bliss." he says the last part sarcastically and sees John glaring up at him.

Mrs. Hudson lights up at that, "Oh, lovely! Yes, little Rosie in the country, that'd be just adorable wouldn't it?"

"Hang on, I didn't agree to this. I think, it would be better if my daughter stayed right here with me." and he takes her from the woman and goes to move upstairs.

"John-" Sherlock says with a tone that warns of a storm about to fall and he looks at Sherlock from the bottom of the stair.

"You cannot break bad behavior if everytime you misbehave you reward yourself after. Rosie….she needs to go for a few days, until we get things...sorted."

"What are you implying, Sherlock?" And John does not look pleased at all.

Sherlock sighs as he says with annoyance, "Think of Colton Blakey, of what happened in the bathroom with Rosie just after."

"That was a singular-" John starts but Sherlock cuts him off, "Same night, in your bedroom...the gun?"

John shakes his head, "You know that was different-"

"Was it? Think of the hole in the wall, the events of today, how many more slips will you allow before Rosie gets caught in the crossfire?"

Mrs. Hudson looks between them in confusion but remains quiet. John stares at Sherlock and understands what he is saying, knows he is right but he shakes his head anyway, "No, not my daughter Sherlock, please. Not her, she is all I have left, I'd never...I would never hurt her-" and he pulls her closer to his chest and looks at his friend with desperate eyes.

"I know you believe that, I believe it too but I think it better to simply remove the valuables from the flat before a housebreak can even occur. I will make sure Mycroft sends some men to keep an eye on things, she will be well looked after, I dare say even spoiled." and Sherlock looks to Mrs. Hudson who nods quickly, still not sure what is going on but she can tell that Sherlock fears for Rosie and that is good enough for her to agree, "Oh yes, my sister absolutely adores children. She will be treated as if she is a true Sissons. She won't even know you are gone."

John shakes his head and kisses his daughters cheek, "No, Rosie...she stays with me."

Sherlock sighs, removes his scarf and coat and hangs them on the pegs in the hall before approaching John carefully, "John, you know it is for the best. Everytime you slip, every time your anger gets the better of you...you come home to this beautiful little girl and it only serves to reinforce your behavior. It will only be a few days, think of it as a sobering reminder."

"Reminder of what?" John asks as he looks at his daughter with adoring eyes and a frown, "Of what could happen someday if you don't get these demons under control."and he suddenly looks up at Sherlock and swallows thickly.

"If you don't get your anger under control, if you do not get help...I will take her from you….for her own protection." Sherlock says and John can see how sincere he is, how sure of himself he is that he could win, and John knows he could.

He lets out a little sob and his shaky arms release her as Sherlock gently takes the happy girl, "Wait, wait please, Sherlock." John whispers and he leans in, bringing his forehead to his daughters, her little hands running over his face, nose and chin.

"Da!" she cooes happily, "Yes, I am your daddy, don't...don't you forget it." he says teasingly but he is fighting off tears and takes a step back so that Sherlock can move away, handing the child off to Mrs. Hudson.

"Everything will be fine, John will be fine, but you best take a few extra days. I will have Mycroft assign men to you, make sure you take every precaution. Rosie is the only thing left holding John together, but he has to learn he can't keep going on the way he has been."

"A bit of tough love will do it, I should think."

"My hopes exactly." Sherlock confirms softly.

"I will...I will send photos then, shall I?" she asks with a small smile.

Sherlock nods, "John will like that."

"Right, well, best be off, lots of packing… be careful Sherlock."

"You too." he says and then he turns to find John has slid down the wall, his head hanging, arms draped over knees and another little sob escapes him.

Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf, crosses to his friend and extends a hand down to him.

John looks up at it, angry red rimmed eyes staring at the help given to him bitterly, but after a few more seconds he takes it and Sherlock hoists him up. The man bringing his hand to John's cheek, the most intimate touch they have shared outside of Sherlock's bedroom, "We will get this sorted, I promise you."

John nods and reaches up to pull Sherlock's hand away from his face and Sherlock is prepared to watch the man walk away but is surprised when John laces their fingers together and he murmurs softly, "I am really pissed off at you right now."

"I know." Sherlock says softly.

"Why do you always have to be right, you stupid awful-"

Sherlock raises a finger to his lips and John falls silent, "Verbal abuse does not become you, Watson. Come on, I sense a game of Cluedo is just what we need."

John gives a snort of laughter, "Not likely." but Sherlock starts walking up the stairs and John follows. The doctor has no idea how Sherlock savours the feel of their hands wrapped up together, his mind musing how it represents the way their hearts have always been.

PAGEBREAK

When they reach the top of the stairs and enter the flat they are greeted by the sight of Rosie's things scattered about and John heaves out a shaky sigh, "I don't...I don't know if I can do this."

Sherlock releases his hold on the man's hand and moves into the room to start picking up her things, putting toys back in the basket, folding the blankets and placing them all neatly on the table.

"You can. Soldier, John, for Rosie you must soldier through this."

"I want...I want my daughter Sherlock." John says already backing towards the door.

"You know you cannot keep feeding your bad behavior by rewarding yourself with her love. One day, she will be old enough to know better, she can't become what you want her to be. Now, sit." and Sherlock points to his chair.

"And what do I want her to be?" John snaps, crossing to his chair and sitting down with a huff.

Sherlock stares at him from his crouched position next to the coffee table and says softly, "She is your forgiveness."

"My what?"

"In some religions the sins of the followers can be forgiven by their God if they seek that forgiveness and embrace his love. Rosie is just the same to you."

"You think I see my daughter as a God?" he says with a doubtful yet angry chuckle.

"No, your saviour."

"Unbelievable." he groans.

"Not so, think about it, every time you act out your anger, do something you know is bad or considered morally wrong, you come home to find the one person who won't judge you, who loves you endlessly and with no thoughts to the crimes and sins you have commited. She is oblivious to it, unaware that her father is a murderer, a rageaholic brute who takes his anger out on anyone who gets too close."

"Shut up, Sherlock." he says angrily.

"She offers you the absolution you need, absolving you of your misdeeds and allowing you to forget the horrors you are living through, and the crimes you have commited. I will not allow you to use her as such, no matter how subconscious it might be."

John suddenly stands, his hands clenching tightly and he cocks his head to the side, a joint in his neck popping as he glares daggers at Sherlock.

"Take it back." John says deathly low, fire burning hot in his eyes, cheeks turning red.

"What if I don't." Sherlock says standing, staring the man down.

"Then I will make you." John warns.

"Will you hit me, Johnny?" Sherlock asks sarcastically and the next thing Sherlock sees is John charging, a yell cascading out of his throat as he swings bloody fast, Sherlock prepared for the outburst as he admittedly just baited the man.

He blocks the swing but John raises a foot and shoves it into Sherlock's stomach, the taller man stumbling back and landing on the coffee table, Rosie's things scattering.

John stomps his foot down on Sherlock's chest and the man grunts but he doesn't wait and his hands grip John's foot and press it up and away, making John stumble back. Sherlock is able to stand just long enough for John to rush him again and wrap arms around his torso, this time shoving him back into the doorframe, breath escaping Sherlock's lungs and he clasps his hands together, raises them and crashes them down on John's back.

The man drops to the floor, grunting at the impact of both the fists and the floor before he rolls to the side and manages to stumble to his feet, "Stay down, John!" Sherlock says angrily.

John is breathing heavy, looking at Sherlock with murderous eyes, "Look at yourself, John! This is why Wayne came! He is getting everything he wanted and he knew he wouldn't have to do anything but show up!"

John wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks in a rather dark voice, "What are you on about?" taking a few steps towards Sherlock and the man holds up a hand, "He came here, he came here knowing his very presence would set you off. He raised you John, he knows more about your personality and your triggers than anyone else! He knew he was too old to get revenge on his own, saw the life you now had and the only thing he cared about was causing as much damage to it as possible."

John seems to finally hear what Sherlock is saying, the anger slowly leaving his face to be replaced with realization and shock, the blood draining from it quickly.

"He didn't even need a loaded firearm, chances were if he had gotten you into a car, he might have stopped to get something more lethal but given the nature of your flatmate he figured his chances were small he could get that far. His only goal in coming here was to rile you up, make you face demons and agressions you have been ignoring for years….YEARS John….you aren't an angry person by nature, no...not you….you're far too kind for that...all this is is twenty-eight years of repressed anger, hatred and pain. He knew if he could just get your walls to crumble...even a little….then they would break, and you would fall victim to your own poison. He wouldn't have to lift a finger to ruin your entire life….you'd do it all on your own."

John is breathing heavy now, the truth of Sherlock's words ringing in his head as he feels guilt, fear and humiliation swarm him and suddenly tears come rushing forward and he sinks to his knees.

Sherlock stands by the door, hands braced on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, feeling the bruise on his chest and the ache of his back but he gives a rather satisfied sigh.

After a moment he stands upright and moves over to kneel down next to him, "John, all you have to do, all you have to do, is be stronger than the anger. Don't give in to it, you have hidden it away for years, you can't do it anymore, you don't need it to survive. You used to...but now...now the only thing you need to survive is the happiness and love you feel for your daughter. I can do the protecting bit, you just need to focus on her. Let the anger disappear."

And the man lets out a nasty sob at Sherlock's words, his body sagging sideways and Sherlock wraps his arms around him, falling back to sit on his bum, his back resting against the side of John's chair.

"We can beat this John, we have to. But I need you to start listening to me, stop fighting me." Sherlock says into John hair and the man below lets out a ragged sigh, "Since when did you become the grown up?"

Sherlock smirks, "Oh, you'd be surprised."

John stares out of swollen eyes at the flat he considers his home, the only true home he has ever had, "You've always been the grown up, haven't you." John says resolutely.

Sherlock's eyes glance up at this, looking at Rosie's toys, once again scattered about and thinking of what his mother had said to him when she had been told about Mycroft's grave misjudgment on hiding the truth about Eurus.

"I suppose, keeping my little monsters out of trouble and protecting any of them who stray too far from the right path." and his voice is far away as he thinks of all those who he has chosen to surround himself with and realizes how much he would give for their safety.

"We are fucked up, aren't we." John says softly.

Sherlock nods quickly, "Yes, yes we are."

"It's nice." John says.

"Indubitably, Watson."

They remain that way for nearly an hour, both staring off and thinking of how their life would be different if they had never found each other, and inside of John another wall breaks just a little bit more. Sherlock feels his mind trying to press his focus on solving John's problems aside to make room for something much more dangerous, much more intimate.

But neither say a word about it and after awhile, John gets up to have a wash and Sherlock once again picks up the sitting room, eventually crossing to John's coat and removing the gun.

PAGEBREAK

"How long are you going to deny me?" and John jerks around in the shower as he drops his rag and stares at Mary, the woman naked but unaffected by the water.

He scans her body up and down, can't stop the fact that blood rushes to his groin, still he shakes his head and clears his throat, "Go the hell away." and he grabs up his rag and turns back around, re-soaping the cloth and continuing to wash.

"Did you ever think that maybe, the reason you are so resistant to this, isn't because you aren't gay, but because you don't want to be like Wayne?"

"What, like a pedophile, no I don't think that was ever a problem." comes his sarcastic reply and he shoves his face under the water to drown her out.

"You know what I mean, you are just being difficult, another way for you to live in this denial you have built over years."

"Why doesn't ANYONE believe me when I say I am not gay!" John says loudly, glancing at the shower curtain as he realizes that Sherlock probably heard that.

"Wayne prayed on you, prayed on the innocent and weak, the uneducated and the unknowing...those who didn't realize they deserved better...you have always found Sherlock's innocents endearing, his curious and impulssive nature similar to that of a child."

"Sherlock is not a child." John says adamantly, "He can act like one at times…" and at Mary's look he backtracks, "Alright, most of the time, but he is an adult, self-aware of his actions and able to make sound judgments. He has proven that to me over the last few days, I know he isn't as immature as I originally thought."

"Yes, husband, and look what has happened within the days he has shown this to you, you're in his bed every night, waking up from dreams about him, you had a bloody bird hanging from your underwear-"

"Shut up." he hisses and grabs the shampoo to wash his hair.

He hears Mary sigh and then she yanks the shampoo from him, John looking at her in shock as he watches her put the shampoo into her hands and set the bottle down.

"How are you-" but he trails off and at his look she shakes her head, "Don't question it, just bend forward, leave such things to psychologists and people who write Fanfiction. They never explain anything properly anyway."

John puts it out of his mind, having zero interest in dissecting how an imaginary manifestation of his subconscious could give him a wash.

After a few minutes of her running fingers through his hair and making it a soapy sloppy mess he stands and leans back into the water,"Fine, let's approach this from a different angle, you aren't gay." Mary says crossing her arms and John pulls his head from the water and he nods, "Thank you." he gushes as he wipes his face with a hand and then reaches for the conditioner.

When Mary goes to take it he turns away, "Ah! No, no I think I can do it myself, keep your ability to break the laws of physics to yourself."

As he threads the conditioner through his golden hair Mary speaks softly, "So, not gay, but, you do love Sherlock. You've openly admitted that to him, yourself and plenty of other people." and Mary's voice sounds crafty, calculating and John glances at her as his curiosity in where his subconscious is taking him overrules his annoyance.

"Yes." he admits with no problem whatsoever.

"So answer me this, John Watson, if you love him-" and she steps up to him, a hand taking his face and pulling him close, "Does it matter whether or not you're gay?"

He looks into her eyes, sees himself looking back, realizes she isn't messing with him and he sighs, "I don't want to deal with this right now." he near whines.

"Sorry John, I am only doing myself a favor being so blunt, you know how many people would love to have a direct link to their subconcious? You're special, always been special, so...why don't you take advantage of your excessive understanding of the human condition and just try embracing it? Wayne broke one wall, why not let the other break too, start fresh….start again."

"I don't want to start over again, I always have to rebuild myself, everytime...always...can't I just stay the way I am for once in my life? No more big upheavals or sudden mid-life crisis, I've had my fair share. I'd like to be well adjusted for once."

Mary yawns and points to her mouth as she releases his face, "Ah, look, so boring I am yawning. Just suck it up and instead of ignoring your problems face them. Deal with your anger, deal with your feelings for Sherlock. Just look at him...study him...observe him. It isn't like you don't know how, he taught you enough to do it. Allow yourself to actually see him and maybe, just maybe, you will see yourself."

John looks up and realizes Mary is gone and he rubs his hand down his face, "Right, right, so...just-"

"GET THE HELL ON WITH IT!" her voice shouts next to his ear and he jerks around and slips, falling down and banging his head on the floor of the shower, his world going black just after he sees the bathroom door burst open.

PAGEBREAK

"John!" he comes around slowly, Sherlock's voice pulling him from the darkness and he sees the bright light of the bathroom silhouetted behind Sherlock's head.

"What the hell happened...oh...my head...the hell? Sherlock...Sherlock what happened?"

"I thought you might tell me, you fell, what was the cause?" and John looks around to see he is out of the shower, the water having been shut off and he is currently laying on the floor of the bathroom, Sherlock hovering over him, a hand on his face while the other is pressing hair away from his forehead.

"M-Mary." he says through clenched teeth as the throbbing in his head suddenly hits him and he raises a hand to cover his eyes, "Mary? In the shower? What did she want?" Sherlock asks and John shakes his head, "Not now, Sherlock. I need to, I need to lay down, can you help me to bed, please?"

"Of course." The man says and he carefully helps John to stand, the blonde suddenly becoming aware of the fact he is naked. He can't really care at this point considering Sherlock has already seen his prick and simply grabs the towel off the tabletop and slowly wraps it around himself.

"Bloody hell, I may have a small concussion." he moans and Sherlock goes to take him upstairs but John moves the other way, "No stairs, can't do it, your room alright?"

"Yes." Sherlock concedes and after several minutes they get him in, lay him down and John pulls the blankets up, giving a sigh of relief when the cool pillow touches the back of his head.

"What do you need?" Sherlock asks.

"Grab be some acetaminophen, a glass of water the small flashlight off the table."

Sherlock leaves and then returns again shortly, John cursing his subconscious for causing the man so much trouble.

Sherlock gives him the pills and the water after he helps John to sit up and when he sets the water aside he hands Sherlock the flashlight, "Here, look at my pupils and shine this in them, tell me how quickly they retract."

The man sits down next to him on the bed and does as he is told, leaning in and placing a hand gingerly on the man's face, holding his eye open as he shines the light.

"Quickly." Sherlock says and John motions to the other eye, Sherlock repeating the same process.

"Same." Sherlock says.

"Good, that's good...less likely I have a concussion and more likely I just took a rather bad spill. You should keep me awake for a few hours extra, don't let me sleep...just to be on the safe side."

"Feels bad?" Sherlock asks.

"It wasn't a normal fall, I heard a crack, more than likely nothing, but I just want to be safe."

"The human skull can take a lot of pressure before it breaks though I tend to agree that more than likely you will just be nursing a migraine for a day or so."

"Given my current temperament, maybe you should join Mrs. Hudson and Rosie, far less likely to get strangled."

Sherlock smirks, "What kind of a friend would I bet if I abandoned you in your hour of need." and John looks up at him, sees the way Sherlock is staring, his eyes alert and engaging, face relaxed and open. In this moment John can read the man's face completely, something he has never been able to do.

"Sherlock?" John asks softly.

"Hmm?" the man responds, his eyes still locked with John's.

"Why do you look at me like that?" he asks suddenly and at the response of Sherlock's face, how quickly his changes from open and attentive to neutral and indifferent John realizes he shouldn't have asked.

"I want to make sure you're alright."

"I am." John says, his hand sliding forward a little on the bed, the tips of his fingers brushing across Sherlock's and the detective looks down, sees that John is initiating touch actively and he looks up at the man, John asking softly, "Would you like to have dinner?"

Sherlock's eyes grow wide and he says softly, "Yes." his tongue darting across his lips and John furrows his brow, "What you want than?"

"Anything you do." Sherlock smirks as he leans closer.

John gives him a confused look and then offers, "How bout Chinese?"

Sherlock suddenly seems to shake free from his thoughts and he sits up ridged as his face pales and he looks anywhere but at John, "Yes, of course. We haven't really eaten since...breakfast...I will….phone...something." and then he stands and leaves the room.

John leans forward to look after him with concern only to grip at his head from the movement and gently lean back.

PAGEBREAK

John doesn't get out of bed the rest of the evening, they eat together on Sherlock's bed, afterwards, they spend some time goofing off on their phones and then John settles for doing some work on his laptop while Sherlock plays softly on his violin.

After awhile Sherlock lowers his instrument, causing John to look up from the screen, "I've always hated playing in here, the walls are much too close and absorptive, makes it sound wretched."

"I thought it sounded nice." John offers.

"You would, uneducated as you are about music." Sherlock snips and John sees a tantrum coming on, he also feels his anger rise and he takes a deep soothing breath, grabs the anger by the throat and bashes it over the head, "We can move to the sitting room if you like." and Sherlock glances at him, studies him and moment and then moves off the bed, "I'll just go put this useless thing away."

John shrugs it off and goes back to work, Sherlock returning shortly to lay down next to him and seemingly enter his mind palace.

It is quiet for a good half hour, John finally starting to get tired, the light hurting his eyes and the headache from before, which has ebbed to a dull throb, now seems to be returning. He reaches for another tablet and pops it into his mouth, sipping some water and then feeling the bump on his head.

"Yeah, really smooth John. Let's hit senile before you're even fifty." he allows his fingers to examine around the tender bump, rather big and swollen and he sighs, "You should have iced it." he murmurs, "Why didn't you think to ice it? Proper doctor you are." and he rolls his eyes and returns to his laptop.

Oh, must be love on the brain...he hears Mary's voice say and he suddenly stills. Thinks a moment and then pulls up Youtube and types in the lyrics.

"Rihanna?" John says in confusion, he knows he has never listened to her, though he thinks he vaguely recalls hearing Mary talk about her. Some big pop star, very popular among the younger, fairer sex.

It isn't until he hears the music start that he realizes he has heard it before, the radio on his way to work. The few times he took the car it was played constantly, an American and apparently British favorite.

He had no clue in all reality, but upon hearing the song he realizes what he heard of it in his dream was only half formed. The song is much more….intimate to hear in real life, much more layered with a subtext he doesn't want to think about.

His eyes glance to Sherlock and his heart rate increases, he looks away quickly and then sighs, "Ohmygod." he winces out.

"What is that?" and John jumps at Sherlock's voice and goes to close the laptop but Sherlock's hand reaches over and grabs his arm.

"What is that noise?" he asks and John feels his face heat up, "Nothing, just a song I heard the other day, was trying to figure out who sang it." he lies quickly, his free hand jumping to exit out of the app and the music stops.

Sherlock releases his hold on John and the man breaths out slowly and then bites his bottom lip, glancing to his friend who has seemingly returned to his mind palace

John carefully types the lyrics in a new search engine and reads through them...then reads them again. Then he reads them twice more before his quick fingers enter a new search and enquire about the meaning of music in dreams.

Google proves to be little help as the basic answer it gives about music in dreams is generic at best. He dives deeper, doing multiple searches, clicking links, finding papers on excerpts from well authored studies and books.

John has always been good at this, taking notes, studying and remembering things. It was how he got through medical school, how he manages to keep up with Sherlock and Mycroft and their dizzying intellect.

He does this for another hour, the night slipping away slowly and after he feels confident he puts all his notes together onto a clean Word Doc and goes through them. Organizing and creating a thesis similar to what he would have done for a Doctor's prognosis.

He is about to go back and do a final revision when he is stopped by Sherlock's soft voice, "My you are a busy Boswell, anything I can help with?"

John stops, looks at all the open tabs, the multiple documents he has started, the fact that he fell into a pit of research and note taking more reminiscent of his college days than of actually answering his question, which he now realizes he doesn't remember.

"John?" Sherlock calls again and the man looks over to see Sherlock waiting expectantly, eyes still closed, "Hmm? Ah, no actually, I was just, uh, yeah, just finishing." and he shuts all the tabs, saves the documents and gently closes the screen.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rubs at his eyes, "Waste of bloody time, can't understand any of it."

"John?" Sherlock calls again softly, eliciting a gently "Hmm?" from John in return.

"You love me, correct?" Sherlock asks and John's eyes look up, before glancing to his friend. He crosses his arms over his chest, a sharp sniff signaling his discomfort as he clears his throat, "Yeah, ehem, most of the time." he says with a smirk.

Sherlock's eyes are still closed, hands steepled before his face as he asks, "In which way, do you love me?" his deep voice resonates through the room, John feeling shivers once again run up his spin at the sound of it and he chews his bottom lip as he decides how to answer.

The memories of his conversation with Mary in the shower come back to him and he lets out a sigh, unfolding his arms so he can set it on the floor next to the bed.

Once he has returned to an upright position he once again looks down at his friend, studies the man's features carefully. Pale skin, dark hair and high cheekbones, things he didn't fail to noticed the first time John met him.

He thinks back over the years he has been with Sherlock, thinks of their interactions, the powerful force Sherlock has become in his life and then he scans down the man's body, seeing the gray t-shirt hug his masculine form, notices how low his dark blue pants sit on his hips and the small portion of exposed hair leading down to his groin.

He feels a little stir in his abdomen, allows his eyes to scan back up and he gets stopped by the sight of Sherlock's icy blue eyes staring at him, "What do you deduce, John?" he asks softly and John gives a reluctant sigh as he reaches out a hand and tentatively runs it through Sherlocks curls.

"I am trying to figure it out, mate. Can you give me time?"

Sherlock thinks on this a moment and then nods once, "Thank you." John says and he turns away to click off his light. Tucking down under the covers and rolling to look at the wall. He feels Sherlock shift and slide under the covers next to him.

"Are you alright to sleep now? Has an adequate amount of time passed?" Sherlock asks.

"I'll be fine Sherlock, if you're worried at all in the night, just check to make sure my breathing is regular and not too shallow."

"And if it's shallow?" Sherlock asks.

"If it's shallow I will be getting a decent night's rest for the first time in seven years." he says sarcastically, knowing he won't be slipping into a comma from the bump he sustained but liking the idea of teasing Sherlock just a little.

He hears Sherlock snort at the comment and gives a small smirk of his own. His eyes starting to slide shut but he is pulled awake again when he feels Sherlock press into his back, a hand coming to rest around him and the man's face nestling into his neck, "I'll check it regularly." he whispers into John's ear and John nods his head, his lips rolling together as the minor heat that has been trickling occasionally in his lower abdomen seems to suddenly flow more readily and John closes his eyes and takes a deep steadying breath.

Easy old boy, just get some rest, sort it out in the morning. He muses to himself.

You aren't going to slip into a coma from a little fall in the tub, man up John Watson, there is no escaping me! Comes Mary's rather pleased voice.

"Shut up." he whispers softly.

'Besides, even if you did, I'll just be there waiting for you...we can spend hours talking about how much you don't love Sherlock Holmes.

John's eyes crack open at this before he whispers dejectedly, "Damn it." and then slowly, he falls into sleep.

A/n: Man, I am popping these out! Would love to hear what you all have to say, read and review and I will try to post chapter four by tomorrow night! Hope you enjoyed it, oh the angst!