"Sherlock?" His mother called. "Do you have any idea why the lock to the conservatory entrance is broken?"
"No idea." He drawled, turning back over to go to sleep.
"That's odd." She called through the door. "Get up soon please, your violin tutor will be here in an hour."
Sherlock grumbled in reply but dragged himself out of bed anyway. John should be here soon. He glanced at himself in the mirror before hopping in the shower and was pleased. He couldn't detect any sign of his recent drug use which meant that no one else would be able to tell either. He dressed quickly and made his way into the living area to find John already at work painting.
"Morning." He said before collapsing in his usual place in the middle of the floor.
"Morning, Sherlock." John said without turning around.
That was all the invitation he needed. He began to tell John about his most recent theories involving the different types of coffee beans and their physiological effects on the brain. He loved talking to John because John listened, really listened to him. He'd never had that happen before. His classmates, when his mother actually enrolled him in a school, ignored him or teased him, Mycroft looked down on him and his work, his mother was busy with her own delicate research, his father was away on business all the time, and Jim mocked him for his interests. But not John.
John would smile and laugh and ask questions, even if they were incredibly asinine. He would throw in surprisingly intelligent commentary occasionally and challenge Sherlock to explain his theories in an exciting way. It was novel and wonderful and it made Sherlock feel…important.
"And that's exactly why you should never order linguini in a restaurant that allows their staff to wear ties with caricatures on them." He finished with a flourish.
"Brilliant." He heard John say sending a shiver through his whole body. He observed as John finished with the final roll of paint. "I'm off to lunch."
Sherlock rose and stopped John with a brush of his fingers along the shorter boy's forearm. "John, I would like to continue our actions from the other day."
He stepped closer crowding into John's personal space and placing his hands on both sides of his neck to pull him in and was confused as John twisted away. "Don't, Sherlock."
"Why not?" Sherlock asked curiously trying to get close to John again. "I know you're interested."
John stepped back again and put up his hands, "You have a boyfriend."
"Oh please, John." Sherlock said. "Jim isn't my boyfriend. Now come here."
"So you're not sleeping with him, then?" John asked, obviously already knowing the answer.
"What does that matter?" Sherlock asked confused.
He watched as John puffed out his cheeks and seemed to steel himself for something, "It does matter, Sherlock. I'm not going to snog someone who's having sex with someone else."
That's incredibly archaic, John." Sherlock said rolling his eyes and beginning to get irritated.
"Even so." John swallowed. "That's just how I am. We can still be mates, but we're not going to do that."
"You're being an idiot." Sherlock said before walking off down the hall. "I thought you said we were going to lunch. Come on, then."
He heard John follow him through the house and into the kitchen. He began talking to John about the rates of decomposition of organic twine as opposed to processed twine and was pleased as John continued to answer back and laugh and smile. Sherlock fell back into their familiar conversation patter easily but felt a twinge of disappointment anyway.
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After their little talk upstairs, John felt better but still a bit vulnerable. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into their routine and he grasped at it desperately as he watched the infuriatingly gorgeous genius describe mould growth patterns with a fond smile.
The next four weeks flew by for John. He was working extra hours for the money, of course. It had nothing to do with the almost constant presence of Sherlock wherever he was working. The other boy seemed to have no end of topics to discuss and pick apart. It got to the point where if Sherlock's mother or tutors were looking for him, they just found out where John was working that day and more often than not, there they'd find the genius lounging about near John chattering away causing the blond to giggle. John began bringing extra food for his lunch and slipped it to Sherlock to get him to eat something. He was so bloody skinny. If John slipped a carrot or slice of cold pizza in the genius's hand while he was explaining the appropriate steps to take when sanitizing chemistry equipment, Sherlock would eat without even realizing it. Sherlock began making routine trips to the house to get bottles of water for his friend when John was spending the day working outside. And if Sherlock took extra time watching John when he had his shirt off or John felt comfortable brushing the grass from Sherlock's curls, well, no one seemed inclined to mention it.
Sherlock was in the middle of explaining the usefulness of staying up to date on any road construction and appropriate detours one afternoon while John was planting a tree in the garden when they both turned at the sound of someone calling Sherlock.
"Hey Sherlock!" Jim said happily. "Did you miss me?"
"Where've you been?" Sherlock asked. "You said you were only going to be gone two weeks."
"Some things took a bit longer than I had anticipated." Jim shrugged. He pulled at Sherlock's head roughly dragging him into a biting kiss. "Shall we get down to business?"
John tried to ignore the flickering glance that Sherlock sent his way before turning back to Jim, "Sure."
Jim turned away gripping Sherlock's elbow as he began walking. Sherlock turned back to John, "See you tomorrow."
"Yes, Pet." Jim said snarkily. "You're still not invited."
John went back to work trying to ignore the sense of abandonment that seemed to grip his insides. He spent the rest of the afternoon working steadily and tried not to flinch when Mrs. Holmes came out looking for Sherlock.
"Is he not out here, then?" She asked.
"Ah, no." John said simply. He was very aware of the household opinion of Jim but he didn't really feel that it was his place to give up Sherlock's location.
"Well, if you see him, could you ask him to come find me?" She asked.
"Yeah, if I see him." John lied.
"Thanks John." She said.
He, in fact, didn't see Sherlock the next day. He did, however, hear him. He'd just arrived for the day with Mrs. Hudson and as they walked in the house, they could hear the shouts four rooms over.
"You turned on the GPS in my cell phone!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs.
"You're damn right I did!" Mrs. Holmes screamed back. "What the hell are you thinking, Sherlock? Are you even using protection?"
"It's my business whether I do or not!" Sherlock answered. "Why can't you just fuck off and leave me alone?"
"When I don't have to drag you out from under some drug-dealing maniac at five in the morning, maybe I will!" She yelled. "Why are you so determined to ruin your life?"
"I'm not ruining my life!" Sherlock shouted. "I'm trying not to be bored all the time by you small people and your stupid fucking selves!"
"Well, you won't be bored for long, Sherlock!" She snapped back. "Because I called your father and he's on his way home."
"This is such bullshit!" Sherlock called out before stomping up the stairs and slamming his door loudly.
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John glanced at Mrs. Hudson who sighed heavily before directing him outside to work on repainting some benches. He worked through the morning and decided it would probably be best if he ate his lunch outside as well. He was watching the house when he saw a sleek black car pull into the driveway. He recognized Mycroft instantly and turned to analyze Sherlock's father. He was thin and willowy like his son with black hair cropped short over angular features. He looked so incredibly calm that it made John's hair stand on end. He was beginning to understand why the threat had worked on Sherlock so long. He painted three more benches before heading back to the house. He was expecting more shouting or stomping about. But as he entered through the side door it was like entering a barren crypt. There were no sounds, whatsoever. Nobody was talking or moving about or working. It was eerie. He tiptoed to the store room to find Mrs. Hudson and found it absent. He checked the kitchen next and found it deserted to. He'd decided just to wait by the car when he heard someone behind him. He turned to find Mycroft leaning against the doorway carrying a box.
"John." Mycroft said by way of greeting.
"Hey." John answered.
Mycroft strolled into the room and deposited the box on the counter before looking inside, "My brother's stash."
"What?"
"Sherlock's stash of drugs." Mycroft said again. "Father found them, all of them."
"Oh." John said, not really knowing what opinion he should actually be having on the subject.
"I worry about him, you know." Mycroft said absently.
"Is…is Sherlock alright?" John asked hesitantly.
Mycroft's eyes flickered to his face before staring back down into the box. "I can't say that he is, no. The symptoms of withdrawal, I'm told, are quite uncomfortable."
"Right." John said shuffling awkwardly. "I can't imagine that it would be."
"You don't have to imagine though, do you?" Mycroft cut in. "How many times did you have to take care of your father when he was attempting to get clean?"
John turned beet red and tried to swallow against the painful lump in his throat. "Enough."
"Families shouldn't do that, John." Mycroft said firmly staring into the box. "They shouldn't make it our job to clean up their messes over and over and over again."
"They probably shouldn't." John agreed quietly. "But when they do, we'll still take care of them."
"Why?" Mycroft asked, uncertain.
"Because we don't want them to suffer." John answered honestly. "As stupid and as selfish as they are, we can't stand seeing them hurting."
Mycroft turned to stare at John for a few seconds before glancing back down. "I've got to dispose of all this."
"Would you like some help?" John asked cautiously.
"Thank you, John." Mycroft said with a wry grin. "But no. I'll take care of it. Mrs. Hudson is sitting in the conservatory with Mummy and Father. She should be out soon."
"Alright." John said. "Thanks. I'll just go wait by her car. And Mycroft? For what it's worth…"
"I know, John. Thank you."
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Okay, so I love the idea of Mycroft, who knows EVERYTHING, seeking advice from John. I hope you agree.