A/N: Alright, this is the final chapter in the Wayne Harvey part of the story, one or two chapters left after this. There is a lemon in here, good guy lemons and some minor feels. Sorry I didn't post it last night but I ran out of data, had to post this at work.
Warnings below, PLEASE READ THEM! Also, leave a review if you like it cause I am super crazy nervous about posting this chapter. It was hell to write, and I am kinda proud of it...but...it's pretty dark and FILLED with angsty...stuff...just... R&R.
WARNINGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS AND DISCUSSIONS ABOUT ABUSE, PEDOPHILIA, RAPE, SEX BETWEEN TWO MEN, TRAUMA, LEMON, MXM, DREAM SEQUENCE ABOUT BAD THINGS (SPARSELY DETAILED) VERBAL ABUSE, NON-CON (MENTIONS ONLY) PSYCHOLOGICAL SUBJECT MATTER, SELF-LOATHING AND SELF-HATE.
Phew! That should cover it, if any of this bothers you, may cause a trigger for you, don't read, my writing isn't worth it. Much love and as always, enjoy!
CHAPTER FOUR
Sins of the Sister
John wakes up first, at least, he is ninety-five percent sure he wakes up first. The few times he has opened his eyes in the morning after sleeping in Sherlock's room it is usually do to an unpleasant dream.
He assumes Sherlock was already awake or was woken by John's sharp jerk. Today, however, it seems John did not dream. So when he opens his eyes he remains still, hears first Sherlock's slow even breathing, then feels the dead weight pressed against his side.
Oh, right, it's Wednesday.
It was a habit that had taken years to implement but once they had managed it things had become much easier for everyone and helped to give Sherlock a more manageable schedule and sleeping habits.
When John had first moved in he noticed Sherlock rarely slept and when he did sleep he would either be out all day or toss and turn on the couch.
It wasn't until John couldn't take the inconsistency anymore he had bargained with the man. A year into their flatshare John had offered, as a doctor, to help Sherlock iron out a schedule that would work for them both.
Essentially Sherlock would take a nap or a simple lay down once a day every Monday and Tuesday for a minimum two hours. Wednesday he would go to bed between ten and midnight and sleep until noon or one and Thursday and Friday he would be free to do as he wished as long as he had one lay down or nap on Saturday and slept between eleven pm and five am on Sunday.
It was confusing at first, and Sherlock had to adjust over several months but it got to the point where following John's schedule got him the rest his body needed and kept him from keeping John awake when the doctor needed sleep. John also noticed Sherlock had seemed far less cranky once his body had been given some form of pattern to follow.
The only exception to this was when Sherlock had a case an during that time John would be with him or follow a similar schedule anyway so it didn't matter.
All that being said, on Wednesdays, Sherlock was out cold, not even an elephant could wake him. John realizes this is the perfect moment to work on his feelings, as he had promised the man he was doing last night.
John looked down at their bodies, close and tucked together like a knit scarf. Sherlock has a hand splayed on his stomach while the other is tucked over John's head, one leg thrown across his thighs and Sherlock's face rests inches from his.
John doesn't feel panic. In fact, he doesn't feel anything at first, he simply chooses to exist in this moment as Sherlock's apparent bed-mate and examine how he feels about it.
Two weeks ago he would have been jumping from the bed, possibly yelling at the man for being so thoroughly wrapped around him to hide how uncomfortable it made him feel.
But now he just lays there, inhaling the man's scent of sandalwood and cigarettes, though John isn't sure when the man would have had time to knick one.
'Odd, don't you think?" And John looks up at Mary with annoyed eyes, the woman sitting at the foot of the bed, legs pulled to her chest, ankles crossed and arms wrapped securely around.
'How it doesn't really bother you. Him being all cuddles and tender touches." and she gives the most gentle of smirks, John feels his cheeks burn but he doesn't remove himself and decides to refuse to answer, looking at Sherlock's face instead. It's completely relaxed, mouth open just slightly as he breathes in and out through his nose, his body managing to somehow look much smaller than it is while curled up next to him.
'It won't be good for him, you know that right?"
John still doesn't want to look at her even as his teeth grind together and his fits tighten in anger.
"It won't be good for Sherlock. Oh, you know him well enough to know he will accept it. Take what little affection he can get from you. He'll consider himself lucky you'd give him any at all. But he wants more, you know he does, and anything less will only serve to tear him apart."
"Maybe you could shut up, let me figure this out for myself? Thanks." John says softly in an irritated voice.
"Over time he will be less and less satisfied and he won't understand why."
John finally looks at her with a narrow eyed glare and Mary, whose face is somber yet serious says, "Until one day he does, and then suddenly your little bits of scrap affection will mean nothing. He will give up, unable to get the fix he craves, he will go looking elsewhere….tell me John….do you want to be responsible for something like that? The world out there in regards to companionship is confusing at the best of times…..unforgivingly brutal the rest, in that regard Sherlock is no different than anyone else….he won't be spared….they will rip him apart.'
John looks back to his friend, the man is most definitely asleep because just then he slides a little closer, his head coming to move from the pillow to the crook of John's shoulder, his strangely bent arm running fingers through his hair a moment before he seems to fall back under.
'You need to commit or you need to cut this off. You can't have both. It's all or it's nothing."
John notes the sound of anger in her voice and he cocks a brow.
''Oh yeah-" Mary suddenly admits with a nod and small burst of laughter, 'yeah, I am angry. Because I am you, the very base line for your wants and desires, your thoughts and feelings and I can tell you exactly how you feel about that man currently spooning up next to you."
"I'd prefer you didn't." John suddenly warns, his voice still low and his eyes glaring venom at the woman before him.
'You don't give a damn that he is a bloke, you don't care that he isn't always a grown up, that would be boring anyway. You don't care about any of it. You love him, more than you have ever loved anyone, the way you feel is so unique to him you can't even put it to words. So yeah, I'm angry and it has absolutely nothing to do with Wayne Harvey."
John shakes his head in dismay, "I can do this on my own, I can, if you are me you know I have the ability to...to see past my-"
"Traumas?" She offers lightly.
"Doubts." he bites.
"John?" Comes Sherlock's groggy voice and John rolls onto his side, scooting down a little as he looks at Sherlock's sleep ridden face, What is it, Sherlock?" He asks softly.
"Alright?" is all the detective asks, his eyes just barely open and John can't help but give a smile as he reaches out a hand runs fingers through the man's curls.
His face is shoved into the pillow, and what little John can see of Sherlock's eye he notices they roll up into the back of his head at the action, "Uh, so nice." The man murmurs out.
"Sherlock, it's Wednesday, go back to sleep, mate. I won't expect to see you before one, yeah?"
"Mmm." The man manages to agree and John nods as he leans forward, giving a peck of a kiss to the man's brow, stopping long enough to try and register how it makes him feel to do so and then removes himself from the bed.
PAGEBREAK
He makes coffee and than carefully takes a shower. He checks the bump on his head, very happy to note he doesn't have a headache and the swelling has retracted considerably although the area is still tender. He gets dressed and retrieves his laptop and places it on the desk in the main room.
Pouring some coffee he closes his eyes and takes a moment to relish the silence of the flat. Though it makes his heart ache he realizes there isn't the scream of a happy child, no landlady to randomly show up, Lestrade knows not to come on Wednesdays before two and Sherlock will be out like a light for the next-
He looks at his watch.
"Four hours, all to yourself, that's a chunk you can use. Make it work." John says to himself as he crosses to his computer and sits down.
The first hour he checks his blog, reads through requests for assistance and deletes junk mail.
The second hour he plans his schedule for the following month, fitting in time to go visit his sister in rehab while also making sure he has Rosie's sitters on call, or times set up as far in advance as he can. He also looks into trying to find another therapist, though he plans to have both Sherlock and Mycroft look into their background given what happened with Eurus.
He takes a ten minutes break to grab at his third cup of coffee and then glances around the room, realizing he will need to tidy up and restock their provisions.
The third hour finds him making lists for chores, groceries and anything else he may need to grab for their often harrowing daily ordeals including more supplies for their first aid kit, fresh rosin for Sherlock's bow and a new round of ammo-
John stops then, glances to his coat and then down the hall to Sherlock's room. When they had gotten into the Rover the other day, Sherlock had set the gun on the dash. Upon their return home he had exited the car and left it, at which point John had snatched it up.
He figures the man had either done it on purpose to test John's resolve or had been so deep in thought he had forgotten it. Either way, John had dropped a pretty penny on it and wanted to know if the man had managed to remember.
He stands and crosses to his coat, shoving a hand into the pocket only to find it empty and he curses. Not because he is angry Sherlock took yet another gun from him, but because it had apparently been a test and John had failed….horribly.
He feels guilty and ashamed and promises himself he will pawn the thing off as soon as he gets it back.
'You feel a bit childish now don't you? Suddenly Sherlock is setting all the rules, creating all the boundaries, taking your things away to make a point. It's funny...usually the only thing you take away from Sherlock is a few stale fags or a moldy experiment. He has to keep a gun away from you, remove your daughter from a dangerous situation, interesting how your punishments for him seem much easier to perform.'
"Please, shut up." he hisses as he brings one hand to his face and digs the other firmly into his hip.
'I already told you I am not going away. You've wasted three hours on trying to make your life easier, how about you spare the last for Sherlock, eh, considering everything he has done for you?'
"Yeah, alright, okay? I get it, I don't need more guilt to go on top of the self-loathing I am currently facing, thank you."
Mary doesn't say anything else and he is relieved when he can sit back down without her prattling in his ear.
"Okay, for Sherlock, sort it out for Sherlock...Just...get the hell on with it." and he stares at the screen, not sure how he is supposed to sort this out via his laptop.
'Step away from the notes darling, think about it, what would Sherlock do if he wanted answers?' and this time he doesn't feel angry at Mary's snide voice for his eyes land on his list of things to do and suddenly a thought occurs to him.
"Sherlock...would...he would…" and the man instantly stands, shuts his computer and grabs his coat. He throws it on hastily as he looks for a piece of paper and a pen.
He scribbles out a sloppy sentence and then makes to leave when suddenly he stops, looks back to the paper, 'Awe, go on love, you know you want to.' Mary says teasingly and John smirks as he returns to the paper, adds a small blurb and then heads out the flat.
PAGEBREAK
John stands outside the door to the "Visitors room", his hands clenching and opening at his sides as the smell of sterile halls make his head spin. His heart is beating quickly but he isn't going to walk away, no matter how reluctant he is to start a spiral down into such dangerous waters.
Taking the handle he opens the door and steps in to find his sister sitting in the window seat, looking out onto the grounds as he takes in the rather luxurious room.
Her face turns to him, a smile coming to her lips and eyes lighting up, and he stops when he sees such a greeting from her.
"Harry?" he asks softly in confusion and she stands and approaches him.
"Hello, John." she says softly and he finds himself on the receiving end of a hug, one which he takes a moment to return but then does return with much candor.
"Oh, Harry, look at you. Haven't seen you smile like that in ages." he says happily, relief flooding him that this isn't going to be the type of visit which ends in them yelling.
"Haven't felt this good in ages. This place, oh this place John. It's wonderful, the people are so nice and Sarah is just-"
"Whose Sarah?" he asks with a smirk.
"It's not what you think." she says giving him a friendly glance, "She is my therapist." and Harry pulls away, her hands coming to clasp before her as she moves back towards the seat of the window.
"Come on, I want to show you something." and John still knows his hands are fisting on and off, feels his smile slide away as he watches her sit. His eyes concerned about how detrimental this conversation could be to Harry's healing.
"Come on John, hurry, before she is gone." and Harry makes a come here motion with her hand and John pops on another smile as he moves over to see her and sits down. He pulls a leg up to fold in front of him on the seat, matching her pose to give the best amount of room.
"Look, see the woman, just there?" and her thin finger presses to the window and her brown eyes lock onto a red-headed woman who is standing under a tree.
She is beautiful, John thinks to himself, nice curves, a little shorter and healthy looking.
"Who is she?" he inquires.
"That is Hanna. She...well she knows all about you." Harry laughs softly as she winks.
John chuckles at this and shakes his head, "Been talking me up a bit, have you?"
"Loads. She wants to meet you, if I had known you were coming so soon I would have arranged it but- John, what is it?" she inquires as the smirk leaves his face.
He realizes how nervous he is but he thinks this is what he needs, someone to confide in that isn't part of the motley crew of 221 B.
"I...uh...may start seeing someone actually...soon...if it works out."
Harry's eyes grow excited and she pats his knee quickly, "Oh! What's her name?"
"Yeah, uh...about that...it's not a she..." and he trails off as he looks at her and Harry looks stunned at this and then says in one swift breath, "Sherlock."
John doesn't bother to ask how she knows, but he gives one single subtle nod and then focuses on how he feels about admitting it to someone, even someone as close to him as his sister. He doesn't feel anything in particular, no shame or humiliation, no discomfort at the knowledge that he has admitted to being interested in another man.
"That's great! I mean, I didn't think you were-"
"I'm not... well...at least... I don't think I am."
Her face grows confused and he chuckles, "Yeah, that's about how I feel." he says softly, "In fact, probably more so than you. Honestly," he says with a sigh, "I am trapped Harry, I don't know what to do. I...I am in love with a man...but I have never...I've never had these feelings for another man before so...considering you're..." and he looks at her as he chews on the inside of his cheek, "Ga-"
"A lesbian, John." she says with a smirk, "Yeah, that, thought you might, you know have some advice...for a very confused...and slightly terrified big brother... might be your only chance to give me a swift kick."
She laughs at that and nods, her face so care free and he smiles at her with such satisfaction to see her so happy.
"Well, wow, giving me a tough one to tackle my first time as the resident advice giver."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know, but...I didn't have anyone I could trust...could turn to really. Normally if I have a problem I just...swallow it...or talk to Sherlock."
Harry nods at this bit of information and she gives a contented sigh, "I am really happy you came to me, John. Unfortunately the only advice I have to give is, go for it."
John stares at her a minute and then allows a breathy laugh to escape him, "Wow, that's...useful...haven't thought of that." and his sarcasm is playful if not a bit annoyed.
"No, I mean it. You can go back and forth in your head for years about something that life changing...or you can save yourself the time and just try it. If you don't like it, at least you will know and you can make an informed decision. You can't make one without knowing, John. You know that, you're a doctor. Maybe start small, try a kiss. That can usually tell someone if they are...you...I mean, that's how I knew."
John sits up at this, the first bit of good advice he has received since this crazy mess started.
"Remember Stacy Buster?"
John thinks a moment and then says, "Yeeeah, she was the sappy sad one, right?"
"No, that was June, Stacy was the nerdy goth one."
"Oh yeah, with the-" and he points to his nose, "Yeah the bull ring." Harry confirms.
"Wow, she was the first girl you kissed, that was what, you were...nineteen?"
She nods, "I knew Stacy wasn't going to be my future, but when I kissed her for the first time, I knew that I was more inclined towards woman. There was a spark. I am not saying kissing Sherlock will suddenly make you want to wear a dress-"
"Now, that, would be stereotyping." John says with a small smirk.
"I'm a lesbian, I'm entitled." Harry says with a bemused look.
"Point." John concedes briskly
"You might only have these feelings for Sherlock specifically. I mean look at all you've been through. Maybe he is just...maybe you two are just meant to be...or...maybe the chemistry is just right...whatever the reason...if you love him...labels like gay and straight don't matter. And what you do in the bedroom, or what you don't do in the bedroom...doesn't matter. But I think...just from knowing you as I do..."
He looks at her, waiting patiently for what she is about to say, "You engage John, it's what you do. You don't run and hide, you don't creep in the shadows...you engage...so the only way you are going to know...it's not by soul searching or asking me...you just have to...try it."
"I was afraid you would say that."
She laughs again, and it's music to John's ears, lifting his heart and making him glad he asked for Sherlock's help in treating her.
They pass some time in silence, just enjoying the quiet and looking out the window before John decides to press on, knowing that his feelings about Sherlock were not the only reason he came.
"Harry." he says softly, "Sherlock...my issues about Sherlock were not the only reason I came."
Her smile is still gently in place but she looks to him and he can see she knows but she asks anyway, "Why did you come? Normally you have to wait a few months before you can see me after we have a roe."
John licks his lips and looks down, "Yeah, about that-" and he clears his throat, swallows carefully and says, "Harry...love...I need to...need to talk to you about...about Wayne." he says regretfully and he looks up at her to see how she takes this new development.
His sister is giving him a knowing face, something far more understanding than she has been able to do in the past and then her head nods just a little and she says, "Sarah has encouraged me to talk to you about it...I never felt like I could before...I mean...what with our promise to-"
"Never look back, Yeah I know, and you know I would never...never ask you to, to break with tradition but...something has happened...is happening to me, and I..." he feels his brain try to shut down this line of thought but he closes his eyes tight and says with determination, "I need your help, Harry. More than I have ever needed it before."
She looks at him with sharp eyes, the smile gone but her face and posture remain open, "I will...do everything I can, all you have to do...is talk to me."
John lets out a slow breath and nods, realizing that for the first time in his adult sister's life she is coherent, calm and somehow, unlike him, she has put her demons to rest.
PAGEBREAK
Sherlock presses himself up from the bed and glances at the clock, it reads two in the afternoon.
"Right on time." he murmurs sluggishly and at noticing John's empty spot glances to his bedroom door which is firmly shut. His heart clenches ever so slightly at the idea of being shut away but he knows it is an instinctual reaction and he shakes it off.
He stumbles from the bed, pulling the sheet with him and wrapping it about himself as he proceeds with his Wednesday morning ritual.
Coffee, stare at John, search for cases and then talk to John, possibly eat if there isn't a case and focus on John. Maybe shower and dress then see what John is doing and at some point finish the experiment you started last week, while you think of John.
This routine, which had formed long before the affairs with Wayne and Harry, gave him a very solid schedule to follow, made his life feel consistent. Even while sometimes John was not in the flat upon his rise into the land of the living, the man always returned shortly and he could proceed with his daily duties.
Today, however, was not that day for as he strolled out into the kitchen he noticed a note on the table and glanced at it, hoping it was from John saying that he would be back shortly.
Sherlock, went to see Harry, got a lead on my case, be back at some point, don't wait up. Please wash the bedding and don't forget to shower, I prefer my sheets and my detectives clean. Love, John.
Sherlock reads the note multiple times, his eyes lingering on several different words, of which include, my case, my detectives and love, John.
He can tell the man is being smart, more than likely returning the favor for Sherlock's rather harsh erection joke. Still, he smiles only to have that smile turn quickly into a frown when he reads the note one more time.
WENT. TO. SEE. HARRY. popping up before his eyes as if they are shots fired from a gun. Instantly he jerks towards his room, tripping on his sheet he lets it fall as he stumbles out of it and slams into his wardrobe.
"No, no, no NO!" He yells out angrily between clenched teeth, and then he freezes, turns and looks to his side of the bed, his phone sitting on the nightstand ready and waiting.
"Come on Mycroft, pick up." he says as he crosses to it, his heart racing and his mind frantically trying to work out a solution to the problem he has just come to find himself in.
PAGEBREAK
John stares at his sister and sighs, "Look, I need to ask you some things...things about Wayne...our time with him...things I might not remember."
"You remember everything." she teases and he lets out a soft chuckle, "Not everything, Harry. Most of it, but...there are things...I just...maybe having someone else's view on it might help me to clarify things...this won't...upset you...affect your recovery, will it?" he asks.
Harry hesitates, thinks about it as her eyes dart outside, and then she says with certainty, "Uhm, no. No, I think...I think I am pretty much...I've made peace, John. I want to help you do the same."
It surprises him and he counters with another question, "Really? You've been here..." and he thinks about it before he says suspiciously, "Threeee days, right? How could you do it so fast? Taken me years to just want to get out of bed in the morning."
Harry sighs and then gives him a friendly yet pointed look, "Everything that happened back then, all the horrible things Wayne did to us, to you... it's in the past. We can't change it, can't affect it in anyway. All we can do is try to move on and make a new life that is better. That is what I love about this place. It's so positive here, no one judges you...no one gives you "the look"." she says making air quotes with her fingers to emphasis her point.
And John nods in understanding, "Remember those looks? The ones that just make you feel absolutely worthless?"
"Yeah, yeah I remember them."
"We existed so long between the lines of terrified and angry we forgot what it was like to live happy and content."
"We didn't know what those words even meant, Harry. He took that from us. Took it from mum."
"Yes. But we can take it back. And that is what they are showing me, what Sarah is helping to show me. I drank because I didn't want to face my guilt, couldn't live with the truth of what I did to you, what I helped Wayne do to you."
John feels his heart speed up, blood drain from his face and he cocks his head and bites his bottom lip in confusion, "I'm sorry, Harry...what did you say... help Wayne do what to me?"
Harry suddenly goes still, swallows slowly as she leans back and looks at him with very careful eyes, "You...haven't talk to Sherlock...have you." she says with certainty, some strange realization coming to her as she pulls her hand away from his knee.
John watches her retract from him and his eyes grow dark as he looks up at her from under his brow, a very bad feeling snaking its way up his spine.
"Noooo, why would I ask Sherlock questions about our father...step-father...about Wayne?" and he knows his voice has dropped, feels something coiling in his stomach and Harry instantly seems to understand that she may have just revealed something she was not suppose to.
"Harry?" he ask slowly and her eyes dart from his face to her lap and she swallows again, her brow twisting up in worry, "Yes, John?" comes her soft reply.
"Has Sherlock come to visit you? Come to see you without me?" and there is a warning in his voice that the girl knows all too well, it's warning her not to lie to him.
She doesn't say anything at first and John swallows thickly, closing his eyes as he lets out a long even breath, "Harriot, I won't hurt you, I have NEVER raised a hand to you or ever done anything that would put you in harms way. I have only ever tried to help, so listen to me carefully when I say this to you, tell me the truth. Do not lie to me. Because if you do and I find out about it-"
"He came to see me." she says softly, and John instantly leans back, his head coming to rest on the wall behind, his bump from last night twinging painfully but he ignores it as dull eyes shift to look out the window.
"When." he says with an empty tone.
She looks up at him and sighs, "Every night since I've come. He climbs up to my window, brings me a few cigarettes, we talk-"
"About what?" John asks cutting her off and Harry takes a moment to readjust herself when she realizes John isn't going to yell her at.
"About what happened, what happened with Wayne...what's happening with you." She says and he hears in her voice how worried she is that he will snap at any second.
Despite the fact that John is furious at Sherlock for going behind his back to seek out his sister and gain her confidence, he also remembers what the man had told him just the day before.
You have to be stronger than your anger, John. You can have this conversation with your sister... there is no need to be-
'Jealous?' and he locks onto the phantom reflection of Mary in the window and he closes his eyes, suddenly very tired.
"Harry..." he starts and his eyes open to look at her and he decides he will put his upset over what Sherlock has done on hold, long enough, to get through this conversation, "Harry, I swear to you, I won't get mad, I won't yell or throw things, I won't do anything to...cause you any more pain or suffering. Because I don't want that to be part of your life anymore, but I need you to tell me what you meant by that, what you said, about you helping Wayne, what did you mean?"
He can see how uncomfortable she grows but a sort of subtle determination comes into her eyes and she takes a breath as she prepares herself for the trouble that is sure to come.
"When dad...when Wayne, first started to...hurt us, I thought...I thought it was all just a bad dream. I mean, I never thought that would become our life...half the time I didn't know what to do, how to handle it, I may decisions based on fear...on self-preservation-" she trails off and he can see her struggle with how to word what she wants to say.
"Just say it, Harry. I am going to find out one way or another and I have a feeling I would rather hear it from you than from..." and he can't say the man's name right now, so he just rolls his lips together, shakes his head and motions for her to go on.
"Alright, do you remember the first time he ever tried to...to...assault me?" she asks and John nods, forcing the memories away so he can focus on her and not see them swim through his mind's eye.
"You came home just as he was about to...I was wearing the wretched skirt...the one for school...that bloody awful uniform..." and she looks down now, her eyes fading back to the memories.
"Keep going." John murmurs as he watches her carefully.
"Well, it wasn't what it seemed." she says and John finally raises his head from the wall and his heart skips a beat while that coiling nasty feeling in his stomach intensifies.
"How could it have been anything else?" John asks.
"Well, he knew...he knew you were coming home John... he...grabbed me and told me to struggle against him, told me if I didn't he would b-break my fingers."
Suddenly John hears a ringing in his ears as his fingers start to go numb, he swallows and his eyes grow wide as his suspicions about Wayne's true intentions are slowly being confirmed.
"He scared me into acting like...acting like he was doing something to me that he wasn't so that when you walked in the door..." and a lone tear rolls down from her eye.
"Wayne didn't just let you take my place...he wasn't allowing you to save me from anything, he wasn't being kinder by spearing me and taking you instead...it's what he wanted the whole time...you...are what he wanted the whole time. I was...I was his tool to get you to comply. If you hadn't been at the house, if it had just been me...he wouldn't have ever..." and she brings a hand to her face and takes a deep breath to calm herself as the spit at the corners of her mouth builds.
"How many times did he-" John whispers out, his mind starting to run back through every encounter he ever had with Wayne. Trying to look and see if he could notice it, anything, out of the ordinary that would support Harry's claim.
"John, you don't understand..." she whispers, more tears gushing from her eyes.
"How many times, Harry!" He groans out angrily and Harry reluctantly swallows and says, "Every time."
He shoves himself up from the seat he is in, stumbling and having to catch himself on the table. Harry rushes over to help but he holds up a finger at her and shakes his head, "No! Do not...don't come near me. I need a moment, you aren't the only one working on things, alright?" she nods quickly and he manages to keep the bile down long enough to ask her, "What about that night, the year before we left for good...he took you into the bedroom, locked me out-"
"John." she starts to cry in earnest and he feels the anger ticking down like a clock in the back of his mind, hissing happily as it gets ready to escape.
"YOU RAN OUT OF THE ROOM NAKED AND COVERED IN BRUISES...Jesus...your thighs...I remember your thighs were bruised."
"W-when he shut the door...he squeezed my arms, wrists and thighs...I was so small John...so thin, it was easy to-"
"And then, what, he just let you run out? Told you to be scared or he would what? Beat you?"
"T-that time he threatened to...to hurt mum...cut her break lines...if she died John I would have blamed myself...I couldn't let him-"
"He was lying!" John finally yells, though it is less aggressive than is his usual.
"I was thirteen! I didn't know any better!" she suddenly yells back.
John feels the bile try to rise again and he swallows it back, "No." he tells it out loud and then stands resolute, "So he told you to run out the door, covered in bruises... naked...or he would hurt mum."
"Yes. Do you remember, I opened the door, you had been outside banging on it...I ran out, you grabbed me and Wayne grabbed both of us... do you remember what he said-"
John hears the man's voice as if he is standing right next to him,"You want to spare your sister, Johnny Boy? Then why don't you just go and climb up on that bed. Show me just how dedicated you are to keeping her safe and sound."
"It was all a lie John, all an elaborate plan to get closer to you..."
"Why?" John snaps as he shoves away from the table in the center of the room and a chair tips backwards and smacks the ground.
"B-because John, in his own sick twisted way...he loved you."
John outright refuses to hear that, stomping his foot on the ground and yelling angrily, "No! A man like that is not capable of love, show me one single thing he did that could be any indication of a soul...one thing...give me one thing to prove that he was after me and not you!"
Harry sighs, "He sang to you...after-"
John stares at her dumbstruck before asking sharply, "What?"
His sister is about to speak when suddenly the door opens and Sherlock, Mycroft and two large male nurses walked in. John swings around and suddenly yells at the top of his lungs, "YOU!"
He takes a step towards the man but is stopped by the feel of small thin hands on his chest, "No! No Johnny! Wait! Don't you...don't you want to hear about the song?" and his eyes stare at Sherlock with such a level of contempt the man in question ducks down a little, his face falling from worry and concern to unresponsive entirely as he realizes he is too late.
"Way to late, mate." John says darkly and he goes to walk forward again but Harry presses against him, "John! The song! Do you want me to answer your questions or not!" and he looks down at her as she looks up at him, her eyes red rimmed and puffy, her lips trembling.
"Alright, alright fine. I want to hear the end of the story, but you, you stay right there, Sherlock. I am not done with you." and John looks back to his sister, "What is the end of it Harry, tell me now. Because I remember everything, as if it happened yesterday, but I don't remember any song."
"You wouldn't...after he was done...you always blacked out...but I would wait outside the bedroom...I would wait to help you into the...s-shower...help you get clean. Don't you remember, you always washed yourself so hard, I had to stop you once...you nearly rubbed yourself raw."
The hazy image of him in the tub and Harriet cleaning him flashes quickly in his mind and he stumbles back, "W-what?"
"I would sit outside, waiting for it to be over...so I could take care of you...so I could help you...and I would hear him singing to you while you...while you were under."
Something faint echoes up from the back of his mind, a sound he doesn't recognize...or maybe he does.
"H-he was deluded John, insane...he thought...he thought you wanted...because you always fought so hard to take my place...the place I never even really had...he told himself a lie because it is what he wanted. Just you and him...together... because he...he lov-"
"Shut up!" John yells suddenly and he shakes his head as everything he was so sure he remembered readjusts itself in his mind. Suddenly he doesn't ever actually recall what happened after Wayne was done with him, only that he would seek out Harry...he never recalls seeing the brute assault her...just grabbing her...touching her tentatively.
His breathing increases and he looks at everyone in the room, sees Sherlock start to move towards him as the ceiling seemingly meets the floor and his knees feel like they are gone and the world tilts on it's axis and then blackness claims him.
PAGEBREAK
Gently take the ship to shore, tell the sailors she's no more. And when the white bird starts to sing, you know you've reached your home.
He groans as he feels his body aching, everything hurts, his mind is foggy but he feels a soft bed under him and the air is cooling his burning skin. The smell is too much, cigarettes and alcohol and another smell he doesn't want to think about.
Tie the ropes up tight now boys, swig the swill to keep you well. Don't drink the foreign water boys, inside the fevers dwell.
He shifts a little, suddenly lets out a whine as he realizes his stomach, back and groin muscles hurt. He is too hot, covered in sweat, he just wants to cool off, and that voice is right next to his ear, singing softly to him and he feels his skin crawl.
Found a maiden in the town, took her up and stripped her down. Made a lover of that gown, and had a baby boy.
He feels a hand come to his back and rub soothing circles but he pushes it away, doesn't want to be touched right now, doesn't want anything near him and he lets out another groan and then a soft sob as his stomach hurts worse.
"Shh, just relax Johnny boy, sleep it off. Listen to the song and just, sleep." a voice says and he lays still as fear runs down his spine and he starts to remember where he is, what happened, vomit flavoring his throat and tongue and he tries to hold it down.
Well that young boy grew fast and big, the biggest one in town. And when he went to sail away he left behind his gown.
He whines again, unable to stop the disgusting feeling rising up inside of him, not wanting to think of what just happened. The only solace is knowing it didn't happen to Harry. She was safe, far away from here or at the very least locked in her room. It would be a few days before he tried anything again, but John would be long gone by then, and he would take Harry with him.
And while the boy, now a man, was gone away at sea. A demon came to his home town and took his bride to be.
He tries to push up from the bed, tries to move away but his body hurts, everything hurts and his stomach wants to clench and twist and then suddenly arms take him up, pull him towards the heat that is unbearable.
"No, please..." he moans as he is settled down closer to the monster, this demon of a man.
"Shh, shh shh, just relax Johnny boy. It's over, it's done. Just move on, never look back. Just, lay here and relax with me and get some sleep."
He starts to fight, even as his body protests and the grip on him tightens and he starts to yell, that voice still soothingly soft as he is held to the burning heat of the demon.
And with her gone to the demon's hand, he lives his life as sea, forever mourning and calling out , where is my bride to be.
PAGEBREAK
John's eyes open slowly to see he is in his own room at Baker street, the flat below deathly quiet, and the fading light of the early evening creeping in. He stares at the ceiling for a while, processing the dream he just had...the memory he just recalled and something inside him suddenly settles.
He breathes out, his mind calm as he thinks about what happened earlier in the day.
'Well, I never thought the day would come.' and John sits up slowly, his ears ringing a little and his head giving a light ache as he looks to Rosie's crib, but he doesn't see Mary. He sees himself.
The boy isn't young, maybe between fifteen and seventeen, looking out at him from under shaggy blond hair, he is short for his age, far too thin given how much he eats and John smirks, "You."
"You." The boy echoes back with a cocky smirk.
They stare at each other a moment before John finds that he has to ask, "Why Mary?" and the young John walks over and plops down onto the bed, "Well, you listen to her don't you...dead or alive...she always got you where you needed to go. Figured if I tried Sherlock it might be a bit much...having two of him screaming in your head.'
"Good on ya there." John says, his eyes bulging at the very thought of it.
They sit in companionable silence for awhile, John studying the young man he once was versus who he is now, before he finally breaks the silence and asks, "So, are we done? Am I done, yah know, torturing myself?"
The boy looks at him and smiles, "That all depends, mate."
"On what?" John asks softly, his eyes noticing that young John has bruises around his wrists and a few around his throat.
"On if you have made peace with it, you remember it all now. Everything, I mean...you aren't like Sherlock, you didn't repress it, you just forgot. The struggles you've been having...the anger and confusion over Sherlock...you were just trying to remember...warn yourself about what you've been through...kind of like a safety mechanism."
"A kill switch?" John offers his younger self, trying to understand these strange metaphors and psychological traumas that have surrounded him over the last week.
"More like a life preserver. You just needed to get your head above the water...so you wouldn't drown."
John nods at this, beginning to make sense of it, "And these?" and he points to the boy's wrists and throat, doesn't get what they are meant to represent, "Wayne will always be there John. He's like a scar that never quite fades...or a bruise that you can't see anymore but can still feel. It's always going to bother you, you know it will because everything you've found out...it suddenly makes you the victim and not the hero. Victims...they don't get any of the glory...just the pity. You hate pity."
"Oh God, I really do." he agrees with a frustrated sigh as he pulls the blankets back and joins his younger self on the edge of the bed, "And...Sherlock?" he asks and the teenager looks up at him, gives a small smirk.
"Well, this one time...you're sister was actually right. You just have to try it and see, you won't know unless-"
"Unless I engage...uh-huh...so everyone seems to think."
"It's who you are John. Stop pretending you're anything else. It's what Sherlock likes about you, what most people like about you. You can follow if need be...or...you can lead. You versatility is your strength, your heart is both a gift and a curse and you're aim-"
"No problems there." John smirks as he realizes he is stroking his own ego and for some reason is really enjoying it.
"Bull's eye every time. You never miss." young John says as he fires an imaginary gun at the wall and John chuckles, letting out a sigh as he takes one last look at the young man next to him, sees his innocents, his subconscious pushing him to keep going no matter how bad it gets, no matter how much he wants to quit.
"So, John, I guess the final decision you need to make... Is what type of closure do you need? What target do you need to hit?" and John slowly looks away as he thinks for a moment about what he wants his future to hold in store for him.
PAGEBREAK
When he walks downstairs he hears the soft conversation of Sherlock and Mycroft, bits and pieces flying to his ears.
"This is serious Sherlock, John is losing his grip. He needs to be seen by a professional."
"No, he isn't leaving, he is staying with me! I can fix this, I can help him if you would just-"
"Ever the martyr, lest you forget it is no longer just you and him, think of young Rosie...she will be back in a few days...you can't both help John and protect the child."
"I most certainly can, don't use my daughter as leverage-"
"Your daughter? I do believe she is Dr. Watson's daughter."
Sherlock falls silent at the slip and John clears his throat as he leans in the doorway, his arms crossed and both men snap their heads in his direction, "John-" Sherlock starts and John runs his tongue across his teeth as he looks at the two, realizing for the first time, just how lucky he really is.
"Rosie is Sherlock's daughter just as much as she is mine, Mycroft. Lord knows, the man does more to take care of her than I do."
"You've been...unwell-" Sherlock starts but John is quick to nip that in the bud.
"No, Sherlock. Don't defend me. I've been a rubbish father and an awful friend...but...yeah, I am good. Much better now. See things...clearly."
The two stare at him, Sherlock with a very well hidden hope and Mycroft with suspicion.
"Alright, yeah, I'm not completely better. Going to take a bit but, uh, I think I figured out everything I need to know...so...if you'll excuse us Mycroft, I need to speak to Sherlock alone a minute."
Mycroft seems reluctant to leave Sherlock alone with him but John keeps his temper in check and motions to the stairs behind him with a thumb over his shoulder, "Don't make me ask again, I promise, no random breakdowns, blackouts or rage induced bad life choices. I'm quite over the drama of it, so if you could just..." and John makes a face stressing his point and the British Government inclines his head and slowly walks past him.
John stops him as he hits the top step, "Actually, could you just wait outside, I have a sneaking suspicion we are going to need your clearance for this next bit." Mycroft gives him a very confused look before he nods again and descends the steps.
John slowly shuts the door and then waits a moment, looking at Sherlock, the man tense as he stares back.
John scratches at the corner of his mouth in thought as he selects his next words carefully, "Thank you." he says, his arms moving to rest behind his back as he looks at the tall man before him, "For...everything. Being here, being my friend...not letting me...go crazy."
Sherlock nods and gives a gentle smirk, "No worries, I figured it would only take a few choice breakdowns for you to come back to me. I know how much you hate to disappoint."
John lets out a soft chuckle as he looks at the ceiling, clearing his throat as he says with conviction, "I think I only need one more thing, Sherlock, if you can manage, and I will be right as rain."
"Anything." Sherlock says with surety.
John knows his friend his going to be reluctant but he also knows that Sherlock's offer of anything is sincere so he says quickly, "I need to see him, Sherlock. One last time, I've got to see him...so I can...move on. I need you...to take me to hell."
"What makes you so sure he is there?" Sherlock asks, his eyes giving a clever and somewhat excited look at his friend.
"The first day after...after Wayne came, when I asked you where he was sent, you responded by asking me a question."
"Where does one usually send their demons." Sherlock confirms, something akin to pride lining his soft deep voice.
"You send them to Hell." John confirms, "And as I have been told, only your brother has a road map of hell."
Sherlock's smile fills his face, his eyes shining with a mixture of admiration and, to John's surprise, lust, "Well look at that, my Boswell is learning."
PAGEBREAK
The helicopter sets them down on the beach of Sherrinford, the chopper ringing loud in John's ears as he jumps from the thing, with Sherlock hot on his heels.
They make their way inside, feelings of anxiety and nausea ruminating as they approach the entry. It isn't from their earlier experiences on this island, no, John's fears are from the fact that he is about to face his demons, and if he doesn't win here, he never will.
It takes them a good thirty minutes to make it through the safety protocols that Mycroft has implemented since their last visit. Though Sherlock has come and gone from here in the last few months to see his sister, he never once spoke about the fact there is a strip search that is fully enforced, despite the fact that Sherlock is now well known and Mycroft's brother.
"Bet they don't make Myke do this." John protests as he slides his pants back up, pressing a foot into a shoe as he does.
"Why would they, no one wants to see Mycroft naked." and John let's out a high pitched laugh at Sherlock's joke, feeling slightly better that the man has elected to come with him.
"Are you going to see your sister after?" John inquires, pulling his shirt down over his head and glancing to his friend.
Sherlock is busy buttoning his shirt as he nods, "Oh, might as well, though you will have to wait in the hall. Special clearance only when dealing with such a demon as she."
"No worries, I am most definitely not in a hurry to see the East Wind any time soon."
John stops when he feels a hand touch his shoulder, "And how do you feel about seeing the man who stole away your childhood?"
John looks over his shoulder at Sherlock, finding he can read the man's face better every time he looks and right now the concern is gushing forth from those blue eyes, though he is quite certain anyone else would only see a hard stare.
John smirks at him, "Well, if you think about it, I got most of it back...I mean, running around London, solving crimes with you like the Hardy Boys, that's about as childish as you can get."
Sherlock's deep chuckle emanates down into John's chest and just a little more of his fear is chipped away.
PAGEBREAK
"We can always come back, John. It doesn't have to be today." Sherlock ensures, the heat from his chest pressing into John's back.
"With the way that security guard was eyeing us while we stripped, no way in hell. No, I am going to do this now, and then I am going to leave...and this time... I am really never going to look back."
Sherlock nods and John sighs, "Okay, let's get this over with."
Sherlock grabs the handle of the door and pushes it open, allowing John to enter before him and he follows in behind.
Sitting at the table in the middle of the room, sits Wayne, old and feeble, yet his body still exudes power, his large lean frame and strong shoulders stand out as if he is still the same young man that John remembers so clearly.
"Johnny Boy... you came." the man says in disbelief and John waits before he approaches the table, looks back to Sherlock and then to the cameras in the corners of the ceiling, waiting several seconds before the little red light shuts off.
"Are you sure, Sherlock? I am fine, if you want to step out." John offers but Sherlock simply shakes his head and says, "I would give you privacy, but this was part of the deal. Someone with you at all times while you are speaking with him."
John nods his understanding and turns to look at the man who had tortured him for so many years of his youth. He tries to keep his hands from clenching, feels the anger, hurt and pain swell up inside of him but he simply lets it flow, let's it spread out through his body and then feels it dissipate slowly.
"Finally got the temper under control I see." Wayne says softly, his cuffed hands moving from under the table to rest on top.
"So it seems, no thanks to you." John says and he finally takes a step towards the table, pulling the chair out and sitting down stiffly.
"It's good to see you, under the circumstances. Figured the last time was it-"
"It would have been, if you hadn't tried to drive me completely insane." John says quickly, but he keeps his voice even, his emotions tightly controlled.
"I just wanted you to remember. Couldn't think of any other way. Once I was released...I knew you'd never come to me willingly. I had to make an impression, something that would set you off and force you to remember...remember our time together... you do remember now, don't you?" Wayne asks hopefully.
John stares at him, brings his fists to the table and then speaks out tightly, "Gently take the ship to shore, tell the sailors she's no more- is that it? Is that what you wanted me to remember?"
Wayne nods and smiles as he says softly, "And when the white bird starts to sing, you know you've reached your home. I sang it to you every time after we were together. It seemed to sooth you, allowed you to relax and sleep."
"You raped me." John says bluntly, "Repeatedly."
Wayne's eyes grow wide, his lips parting as he shakes his head, "What? No, no we were-"
"We were nothing but a figment of your twisted and brutalized imagination. What you did to me...what you made Harry do so that I would willing come to you...allow you to do..it wasn't right Wayne, it wasn't bloody natural. You abused her to get to me, and assaulted me because-"
"I loved you...I still do. From the moment your mum brought me over...when I saw you...I just...couldn't help myself. You were such a kind boy, so caring and friendly...so welcoming. I thought we had a connection...remember I took you fishing...we stayed up real late...I gave you your first beer."
"Why couldn't that be it? Why couldn't you just be my friend. Why did you have to go the extra mile...why did you start in the first place? I know, I remember some of the good times before… it didn't have to end this way."
Wayne leans forward desperately, "I tried, I tried to go about it the right way, tries to get you to tell me...or show me...if you were interested but you never said a word….I thought you were embarrassed-"
"I was fifteen when this mess started, when you started abusing Harry to get to me, what? It just pop in your head one day to use my sister as leverage to get into my pants?"
Wayne doesn't hesitate to explain, his hands gripping together tightly, "I thought, I thought if I could just show you...show you how good I could make you feel...but after the first time you just...shut down...I tried again and you screamed at me, hit me… I was upset, hurt...I thought you were just being difficult, needed an excuse to justify your actions...Harry was that excuse."
"You over thought it. No meant no, there wasn't ever any hidden passions, no fear of discovery or need for justification. I never wanted it, or you….it was all in your head."
Wayne sits back, a look of denial etching it's way across his face, "I don't believe that Johnny Boy, not for one second. You enjoyed it, you wanted to be with me, you were just too scared. I made it easier by doing what I did to Harry, for you...for both of us."
John lets out a slow even breath through his nose as he looks at the man before him, silver hair long and wavy but no curls to speak of, his skin healthy but showing his age with a tan. The wrinkles in his forehead and around his mouth visible but only just since his face isn't animated as it was previously at the flat.
His dark eyes dart to the man's hands, the ones that touched him in ways he never wants to remember but knows he can never forget, large and thick, nothing like Sherlock's long slender musicians fingers.
"That was the problem." John says softly, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place, and John feels the sudden thrill of solving a case, his case, nearly on his own.
"What?" Wayne asks and John suddenly stands, turning to Sherlock, "Displacement." John whispers, thinking back to Sally Donovan and her dislike of Sherlock.
"Full, circle." Sherlock answers with a rather gentle smirk and John smiles back, "How long have you known?"
"A bit, but I knew you would need to banish your demons on your own, cannot even begin to tell you how sexually frustrated I have been waiting for you to come off it." Sherlock says teasingly, his eyes sparkling as he winks at him.
John slowly walks up to Sherlock and he places a hand on the man's cheek, craning up to graze their lips together, Sherlock taking in a small pant of air.
Before anything happens they hear a shuffle and they both look over to see Wayne standing up and staring between the two with wide terror filled eyes.
John realizes he isn't done and slowly leans away to look at Sherlock, "Sorry, mate, the game isn't over." he whispers and Sherlock gives a gentle nod of understanding.
The blonde turns back to the man who looks nearly heartbroken as John slowly approaches, "It's time to sing our song Wayne, and then... we say good-bye."
"Johnny-" he starts with trembling lips and shaking hands, but John has no mercy for this sick individual, his kind heart having dried up long ago where Wayne is concerned.
"Tie the ropes up tight now boys, swig the swill to keep you well. Don't drink the foreign water boys, inside the fevers dwell."
Wayne sinks back down into his chair, his eyes locked onto John as he speaks, "Found a maiden in the town, took her up and stripped her down. Made a lover of that gown, and had a baby boy."
John leans forward, slamming his hands down on the table in front of Wayne and says louder, "Well that young boy grew fast and big, the biggest one in town. And when he went to sail away he left behind his gown."
A tear rolls down Wayne's face, his hands reaching for John but the blonde pulls back, motions for Sherlock to stop the advance he has started and then crosses his arms over his chest, "Finish it Wayne. Finish the song with me."and John's hard eyes narrow.
Wayne looks down, lets out a sob and John once again leans forward and yells, "FINISH THE SONG!"
Wayne sniffs and lets out a sigh, "And while the boy, now a man, was gone away at sea. A demon came to his home town and took his bride-to-be."
Wayne's eye scanning to Sherlock and he frowns rather evilly.
John stands then, swipes his nose with a hand and sniffs as he says drily and with sharp venom, "And with her gone to the demon's hand, he lives his life as sea, forever mourning he calls out , where is my bride-to-be."
"John-" Wayne says softly, looking up at him through his tears, "I only ever loved you."
John grits his teeth and points a finger at him, "You tortured me, Wayne. You ruined me. You took everything away from me. Now it's time I take it back." he hisses and then he shakes his head, "Come on Sherlock, let's go home." and John walks away, Sherlock smirking as he opens the door again and John steps through, both men easily ignoring the sobs screaming out from the room they just left.
PAGEBREAK
John lays Rosie down in her crib, the girl rolling around a bit and trying to stand up before John lays her back down and gently strokes her face.
Sherlock plays a soft lullaby on his violin and after a few minutes the little one falls fast asleep.
Looking down at her from above John sighs happily, "God, never thought it'd be so good to have the loudest member of our family back." he says endearingly, both men well aware of how much John truly missed her.
"She is where she is supposed to be, and so are you, now." Sherlock says, his hand coming to rest next to John's on the crib rail and the blonde subtly moves his pinky to rest on Sherlock's hand, the detective looking up at him in mild surprise if not complete confusion.
"John, I have been meaning to speak to you. In fact, I have tried several times to start a conversation on-"
"Sherlock," John starts.
"Yes?" the taller man asks.
"Shut up, now? We are having a moment." John says nodding to his daughters sleeping form and the man looks away, "Right." he rolls his lips together and waits patiently.
John feels it coming though and counts backwards from three before he hears Sherlock say in a rather annoyed voice, "It's just, I so dislike not knowing and you've been very vague with your-" John turns and places a small kiss on the man's neck, pulling away quickly and looking up at him from under his brow, his lips pursing together and his foot taping as he waits for Sherlock to take the hint, "Got your answer?" he asks in a low annoyed voice.
"Yup." Sherlock says popping the P and then walking past him and out the door. John watches him go before he looks back to his daughter and reaches in a hand, a finger gently stroking her cheek and he smiles.
"I swear to you, no matter what happens, I will be a better father to you than I ever thought possible. I promise, I will get better at this, you will be happy. And if you aren't, Sherlock will kick my arse."
Giving her one last look he leaves her room and shuts the door behind him, descending the steps with baby monitor in hand.
He enters the sitting room to find Sherlock in his chair, gently pulling the bow of his violin across the strings, a single silver note rippling gently into the air and his blue eyes open as he looks at John curiously, "So, John, the crisis has been averted, your daughter is back and your demons are now slain, whatever shall we do now?"
John stares at him a moment, looking the man up and down before he glances over his shoulder at the door to Sherlock's bedroom. He glances back to Sherlock and gives a very sly look and turns to start walking down the hall.
He chances a peek behind him to see Sherlock staring wide eyed, his lips parted softly as he watches John's slow stride towards the room.
When Sherlock abruptly stands, his instrument and bow tumbling to the floor, John takes off into the room, hearing Sherlock's quick feet rushing behind him.
PAGEBREAK
John's shirt is being ripped off over his head, his own hands work on Sherlock's buttons but give up on it to yank the shirt open, the sound of the little plastic rounds raining down across the floor causing them to laugh slightly.
Sherlock reaches a hand under himself to undo his belt and then press his pants down quickly.
"Top or bottom, John?" he asks in a deep breathy voice as he places his forehead on John's the smaller man caught underneath him.
"I've no clue, what do you suggest?" John asks, his fingers running through the man's curls and Sherlock shutters and moans before he presses his face down and gently bites John's shoulder.
"Jeeeeesus!" John gasps and his hand runs down to Sherlock's face and he pulls the man away from the tender area, "Listen, Sherlock, listen-" and the man stills long enough to look at him.
"We are going to need to coordinate...have you ever...done this? Man, woman...anyone?" John pants and Sherlock looks down as this, his hand now skimming up John's exposed side and John hums desperately, his voice cracking as he does and his eyes closing so he can focus on the touch.
"Not with a man." Sherlock says softly and his mouth tries to return to John's shoulder but John latches a hand into his hair and he looks at Sherlock in the eye, "Hang on, with who then?"
Sherlock stares at him, not saying a word and John lets out an unbelievable sigh, "Oh my god."
"What?" Sherlock asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"The woman? You had sex with Adler?"
"What!? No!" Sherlock says with a face akin to horror, "Who then, Jenine?"
"Unlikely." Sherlock snorts with a tilt of his head and a smirk.
John stares another moment and then asks quickly, "Who then!?"
Sherlock let's out a sigh and hangs his head, "Molly."
"Molly?"
"Molly Hooper." and he glances up at John who stares a moment before he bursts into laughter and Sherlock's lips roll together to hide a smirk.
"So that's why you said there wasn't a need to speak with her."
"Yup." Sherlock says as he aims one more time for John's shoulder, "Oh! No, first you have to tell me...how was it?"
"How was what?"
"Sex."
"Sex?"
"Yes! Sex with Molly Hooper, you great stupid lump!"
Sherlock seems to think about it, his eyes rolling up into his hairline before he says with a nod, "Surprisingly okay, very knowledgeable, one might say it was like rolling around with a tigress."
"I knew it. I knew it! God, it's always the quiet ones. Oh, I should have taken her when I had the chance." He says.
"What chance? You never had a chance." Sherlock says haughtily.
"I did."
"When?"
"Well she wasn't going to wait around for you forever was she, mate."
"Apparently not, after our little tumble she said she just wants to be friends, apparently I was that bad." Sherlock says and then furrows his brow as he thinks about what he just said.
John bursts into laughter and Sherlock follows suit, neither able to contain themselves at the idea of it.
John manages to calm down first and sees that Sherlock is smiling his genuine smile, the one he hides from most of the world and suddenly John leans up on his elbows and places his lips on Sherlock's.
The man above stills and for several seconds there is no sound, just the gently touching of their lips, mouths opening to each other and tongues exploring.
When John pulls back they look away from each other a moment before they look back, Sherlock's face filled with an endearing and understand smile, John's eyes wide and his mouth parted,
"Yeah-" John says before he looks away again and clears his throat, thought Sherlock continues to stare before he says quickly, "So, you first, me next?" he asks.
"Yeah, Alright." John says and then they are wrapped up together again, lips meeting, bodies molding and groans ringing through the room.
PAGEBREAK
One of the reasons John was so adamant about refusing to be with Sherlock is because of the trauma he suffered at the hands of Wayne.
Years of abuse made him weary of ever being intimate with a man in that way.
Another part of him knew, he wasn't really gay, no, this burning desire for Sherlock was unique to the man currently on top of him. They had agreed John would go first, then Sherlock would go but right now, considering how he was feeling John was fine to do this several more times before taking his turn.
He was on his back, Sherlock over him, those long fingers and wide palms skimming up his sides, gently holding his hips or thigh as he pressed his body against him. Their lips had barely parted since this started, and the time it had taken to get to this point where Sherlock was so deeply rooted inside him had been rough.
John needs time to adjust, to control his anxiety as on occasion memories surface, ones he'd rather not think about while being intimate with Sherlock.
But John was not a coward, he does not run away from things, he engages them head on, so to, did he engage this.
The complete surrender to Sherlock's delicate touches, his gentle lips and nibbling teeth, the sounds, tastes and smells of the man pushing harshly away any latent memories he has of his time with Wayne.
"A little deep-deeper Sherlock, a little...ohmygod." John moans and he hears Sherlock hum as he continues to gently pump his hips and run his hands all over. John knows that this is a much different experience than what he has been through before.
"Oh, my neck, hold my neck..." and Sherlock's hand slides up his body to cup his neck so that he can press John closer, his mouth sucking on the area just under his jaw, "Yes, that's it, just there...just there...that's good-" he sighs out.
"Can I move faster now, John?" Sherlock whispers into his ear seconds later and John swallows, tries to think about the question through this strange euphoric haze he is in and he finally manages a nod and Sherlock places a sloppy kiss on the side of his face, lips smearing as he starts to jerk his hips faster, "You must tell me...if I should stop, John...cause...I won't...I can't unless you tell me to...only if you tell me-" the man says in a deep guttural tone.
"It's fine, Sherlock-" John wheezes out and his hands latch onto the man's back, nails digging in and Sherlock lets out a yell of surprise, his hips giving a harsh jerk in response and John yells at the sharp intrusion but finds his back arching.
Then he falls over, his prick throbbing as he does, hot seed pooling on his belly and he swears several times, rocking down through the chemicals his brain as just released as such a strong climax.
He is confused when Sherlock suddenly asks in a near fevered craze, "In or out!?"
"Wh-what?" John asks as he feels Sherlock's jerks grow in speed, "IN OR OUT, JOHN!" He yells desperately and John realizes what he is asking and given it's a split second decision he stumbles through and answers with, "I, uh, don't know...in...IN!" he yells and Sherlock gives a hard thrust and then locks his hands onto John's hips, John letting out a mix between a cry and a gasp as he feels Sherlock's prick shuttering and spitting inside him.
He panics for a second, his mind recalling several images that make his stomach churn, "No, wait, stop-" he starts but seconds later feels hands on his face and he opens his eyes to see Sherlock above him, "I am sorry, John, I should have asked before he got so far along."
John gives a shaky nod and pulls Sherlock back down to him, "Just give me a minute you stupid...just give me a minute... I need it." he says softly.
"Alright." comes Sherlock gentle reply and John doesn't think to clean his belly, just waits nervously for Sherlock to pull out and the man does after several very slow seconds.
John rolls to his side, breathing heavy as he feels Sherlock come up behind him and wrap an arm around him, his face peering over his shoulder to look at him, "Are you-"
"I'm fine, Sherlock. Just, lay down with me for a few minutes while I... I just need to work through a few things and then you can go and-"
"I'm not going anywhere, John. Take all the time you need." and the man kisses his shoulder again and John drops his eyes back to stare at the wall.
A/N: Alright, that is it for this chapter, thirty-one angsty pages is enough. There is one, maybe two more chapters to this short story and I REALLY hope you liked this chapter. Please leave a review to let me know cause this was REALLY hard to write and post. I am extremely nervous, never really written anything like this before in regards to an actual case and stuff, you know, trying to be all clever and Moffitt and Gattis. I tried to link everything back to do the full circle thing but I am sure I left some loopholes.