Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Also, mentions of abuse in this chapter.
A/N: This was cowritten with the brilliant writer par-0x-ysm who can be found on tumblr. I wrote as John and she wrote as Sherlock. Bolded words are meant to be texts. The perspectives do change back and forth.
"Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain."
-Bob Dylan
Chapter II
John had been staring at the same peeling spot on the ceiling of his bedroom for the past four hours, deep in thought. His mind replayed the scene with Sherlock over and over. He still couldn't believe that it was real. Sherlock loved him. He loved Sherlock. John supposed that it all made sense now. The way he always wanted to be around Sherlock. The way his heart felt lighter and happier in Sherlock's presence. The fact that he was willing to do anything for his mate.
Perhaps I have been in love with Sherlock for longer than I know. John mused as his mind flickered back to Sherlock's confession. "It's not really that easy to tell the guy you're in love with that your boyfriend beats you up after sex and that you wish you could be with him instead." Sherlock had told him.
Wait a- Jesus Christ. John twisted onto his side, scrambling for his phone. How the hell had he missed that last part? Sherlock had just admitted to him that his boyfriend was bloody abusive and here John was reflecting over his feelings for Sherlock. His friend needed his help, and John was doing nothing remotely close to supportive. Pushing his emotions aside, John turned on his phone. Bloody phone, why does it take forever to start up? John grumbled impatiently. A text popped up from Sherlock.
[To John] I'm sorry, forget what I said. SH
John definitely was not going to do that! He dialed in Sherlock's number, only to reach his voicemail. Fuck! "Sherlock! It's John. Whenever you get this, call me back, yeah? I need to talk to you! I mean it." John threw on his jumper and a pair of pants, and ran out of his house. He needed to get to Sherlock's dorm room. John waved his hand frantically as a cab slowed to a stop in front of him.
Sherlock shrunk back further into his bed and poked at the bruises on his arms. He watched them turn from purple to yellow, and made a face of distaste at them. As if it was all their fault for showing his weakness. He rolled over and closed his eyes, only to open them again as someone knocked loudly on the door. "Open it." Someone shouted through the door, causing Sherlock to wince and get up. "I'm coming." Sherlock mumbled, pulling the door open and bracing himself for a hit.
John snuck across the campus to the side of the building. He didn't have the keycard to the door, so he would have to sneak his way in. John pried open the loose window Sherlock had shown him months earlier, and carefully crept inside. He weaved through the empty hallways, taking the stairs two at a time as he made his way towards Sherlock's room on the third floor. At night, the dorms were eerily dark and quiet, every door closed and no living person in sight.
John came to a stop in front of Sherlock's door. He paused, his hands hesitating to knock on the door. What if Sherlock didn't want to see him? John shook that thought aside. Just do it! John knocked on the door, hearing Sherlock mumble some words before the door slowly opened moments later.
Sherlock froze when he saw John, slowly backing away. "Why are you here?" He asked shakily, sitting on the edge of his bed. He bit his lip and quickly pushed his phone under the bed, not wanting John to see the messages from Seb, flashing on the screen. Sherlock didn't understand it, he'd messed up everything, yet here John was.
"I'm worried about you." John stared at his shoes, his hands in his pockets. He took a step inside and closed the door behind him. Sherlock was talking to him, which was one good thing, though John couldn't tell if he wanted him here or not. "I'm sorry." John whispered, his eyes flickering back up to meet Sherlock's uneasy gaze. "I didn't mean to disturb whatever you were doing. I know it's late but I just... I wanted to apologize. I was a dick. I didn't mean to run away like that. I, uh..." John's words died midway as his eyes wandered to Sherlock's arm. The length of it was scattered with bruises of all shapes and colors. His heart dropped at the sight of abuse on Sherlock's body.
"Jesus Christ." John walked over to his friend and gave him a worried look. "Sebastian did this to you?"
"Obviously." Sherlock said shortly, pulling his sleeves back over his arms. "Don't have a different boyfriend do I?" He walked away from John, leaning against the window and closing his eyes. "Don't act like you care John, because I know how you feel and it's fine." Sherlock itched absent mindedly at a cut on his collarbone, making it bleed again. "You can have a relationship, and I promise I won't fuck it up." Sherlock felt his stomach drop as he said that, but he meant it. He was done chasing John and always messing things up. He just wanted John happy now.
"Sherlock." John called out to his friend. Sherlock refused to look at him, instead staring absently out the window. "Bloody hell, Sherlock. I'm here because I care about you, so don't you dare turn away from me." John stared at his friend, who was pointedly ignoring him. "Sherlock! Jesus. I love you, alright?" John blurted out. Fuck. That wasn't supposed to come out.
Sherlock turned to John, pain etched in his features. "Don't say that. Don't you dare because I'll fall for you even more and it already hurts." Sherlock swallowed and looked at his feet. "Stop lying to me. No one loves me." He sunk down the wall until his head was on his knees and slowly broke down, tears falling hard. "No one loves me, okay?"
John's heart broke as he watched his friend break down in front of him. He sat down next to his friend, his arms wrapping gently around Sherlock's back. "Hey, don't say that." John rubbed Sherlock's back soothingly, pulling him closer towards John. John's anger flared. What kind of sick being would harm him like this? Sherlock didn't deserve anything but the best. "I care for you. You know I would never lie about that. Sherlock, if there's one thing you never need to worry about, that's me. You'll always have me."
Sherlock didn't raise his head, tears still clouding his eyes. He felt John's hands on his back, and lent into him, crying into the front of John's jumper. He didn't know what to do, he was torn between complete self-loathing, and complete love for the boy next to him. "I don't know what to do John." Sherlock mumbled, finally looking up at John and biting his lip. "I'm sick of messing things up." He murmured, letting his head fall back onto John's shoulder. He hated what he was doing, making John choose between his friend and his girlfriend. He hated making John feel guilty and like he had to care for him. "You don't have to be here." Sherlock whispered, flushing a little. "You can go and see your girlfriend, it makes more sense to be with her."
"But then why do I want to stay with you? Maybe sometimes what we want doesn't make sense, Sherlock." John murmured quietly. He leaned back, his fingers gently wiping Sherlock's tears away. "You don't need to worry about anything. You didn't mess anything up. You're perfect, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, Sherlock Holmes." John smiled before placing a gentle kiss on Sherlock's forehead. What John was feeling, it was definitely love, and he decided he would do nothing less than embrace it. Who cared what other people thought?
"I don't know." Sherlock mumbled, looking down and smiling a little at the kiss on his forehead. "I'm nowhere near perfect." He murmured, leaning his head into John's shoulder. "Seriously, I'm not. Look." He pulled his sleeves back up to expose the bruising and cuts and bit his lip. "This wouldn't have happened if I was perfect." Sherlock felt kind of ashamed that he'd brought them back up, especially after John looked so content, but he meant it. He hated himself for being so weak.
"To me, you are. You're the strongest person I know. You didn't deserve any of this, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sorry I couldn't help. I'm useless. An utter idiot." John whispered. His fingers circled over a particularly dark and painful bruise on Sherlock's arm. John couldn't help but frown. He leaned down, tenderly kissing each one of Sherlock's bruises. "I'm sorry, Sherlock."
Sherlock bit his lip, kissing John's head softly. "You're too good to me." He mumbled, tears forming as he watched John's kiss his arms. "You're just... I love you." He whispered, sort of hoping John wouldn't hear him. "So much." He closed his eyes softly.
John looked up, giving Sherlock a large smile. "I think I've always loved you. I just didn't realize it until you told me." His body tingled with warmth and his heart swelled with happiness. He couldn't believe that anyone would ever treat Sherlock like that. He was going to kill Sebastian when he saw him again. John hesitated. "Has this been going on for as long as you've been with him, Sherlock?"
Sherlock nodded, biting his lip and trying to hide the shame from his eyes. "We'd been together two weeks when he did it for the first time." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning back against the wall. "I don't know what made him do it, but it never really stopped." Sherlock swallowed and looked down. "He said I wasn't strong enough to stop it. And I guess I agree with him."
"Oh Sherlock," John frowned as he drew Sherlock in for a tight hug. John's fingers threaded gently through Sherlock's silky dark hair. He could feel the taller boy's body heave under his grasp. Jesus Christ. John couldn't imagine what Sherlock had gone through, but he was going to do his best to help him through it all. "I wish you had told me earlier." John whispered, closing his eyes. If only... If only he had known earlier, he would have been able to help Sherlock. Then Sherlock would never have gone through this much pain.
Sherlock tried not to cry too much, but failed horribly. He leant close to John, tears falling down his face and making his body heave. "Seb told me th- that no one would care." Sherlock stuttered, crying making it difficult for him to talk. "and even now he still is threatening me." Sherlock reached quickly for his phone and brought it out. Four new messages from Seb appeared.
[From Seb] You better not be with anyone else, fucking faggot. SM
[From Seb] When I see you I'm going to fucking skin you. SM
[From Seb] Reply to me you little cunt! SM
[From Seb] Fuck you, next time you see me you'll be unconscious before you can apologise. SM
Sherlock swallowed and shakily dropped the phone to the ground. "I'm scared." He whispered to John, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
John's anger flared tremendously as he read over Sebastian's texts to Sherlock. He had the mind to go find and kill that sick bastard right this very moment. "You don't need to be afraid of him, Sherlock. If he so much as looks your way, I'll give him something to worry about." John growled, holding Sherlock closer to him. He gave Sherlock a reassuring kiss on his forehead before resting his head against Sherlock's. "I won't let him hurt you, especially if I can do something about it. So please don't worry."
Sherlock whimpered quietly and burrowed into John's side, hiding his face. "Please don't let him hurt you." He almost whispered, swallowing hard and glancing up at John. "I can handle him hurting me, but if he hurts you I don't know what I'd do." Sherlock bit his lip and searched John's eyes silently. "I could just avoid him. He might not hurt me if I slowly break things off."
"Oh Sherlock," John smiled gently as he rubbed Sherlock's back. "I won't. You don't need to worry about me." John's gaze wandered over Sherlock, eventually focusing on a small bleeding cut on Sherlock's collarbone. John traced his finger gently over the cut, the dark red drops smearing slightly on his fingertips and marring Sherlock's pale skin. John frowned and stood up. "Do you have any cream and bandages?"
Sherlock shrugged and pulled John back down. "I don't know, not important. Just don't go near him, okay?" Sherlock frowned and held out a pinky. "Promise me, John." Sherlock looked at him, desperation in his eyes. "Please." He mumbled, voice breaking a little and biting his lip.
John blinked, surprised at the pleading tone Sherlock's voice held and the sheer desperation in his eyes. John let out a deep breath, resigned, as his pinky intertwined around Sherlock's. Even if John really wanted to give Sebastian a piece of his mind, he wouldn't, for Sherlock's sake. "Okay. I promise..." John gave Sherlock a firm look. "But if he hurts you again... I won't hesitate."
Sherlock smiled, sighing in relief slightly. "He won't. Hopefully." Sherlock mumbled, resting his head against the wall and picking at the cut on his neck. "It's not that bad, not until the pain hits." Sherlock flashed back to what Seb would say, hitting him and then holding him. Telling him he was beautiful. Sherlock shuddered slightly, and brought his knees up to his chest.
"Hey," John shot Sherlock a concerned look, his hands prying Sherlock's fingers away from his cut. John folded his arms, a stern expression on his face. "What he did to you, it's not okay. You don't need to justify any of it. He never should have hit you in the first place." Sherlock didn't respond, and only seemed to withdraw further into his mind. John sighed, and stood up, as he rustled around the room. He searched through Sherlock's drawers before he pulled out a half-empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a crushed box of bandages. John walked back over to Sherlock and sat down in front of him, crossing his legs and leaning forward to poke Sherlock's knees. "Can I?" John asked, his eyes searching Sherlock's for permission.
Sherlock shook out of his thoughts of Seb and glanced at John. "Can you what sorry?" He asked, face clouding in confusion. He awkwardly pushed hair out of his face and bit his lip, hoping John didn't realise how much this was hurting him. He didn't want John to know that the physical pain meant nothing to him, it was just the mental scarring that kept him up at night.
John gave Sherlock an awkward smile as he cleared his throat. He held up the bottle of peroxide and the box of bandages for Sherlock to see. "I know this might not help much... but I still think it would be a good idea... Y'know, to avoid infection..." John scratched his neck, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling. "And I would really like to do something for you..." He trailed off quietly, looking down at his toes and then back up at Sherlock's face. Sherlock must have thought him such an idiot. He knew that the cuts and bruises were only physical, and they would heal, but mentally? John wasn't sure. He could only hope that time and maybe his support would help lighten the scars on Sherlock's heart.
Sherlock nodded and pushed his hair away, so John could get to most of the bruising. "Should I take off my shirt?" Sherlock asked awkwardly, fingers ghosting his buttons. "It's a little worse there." He blushed a little and avoided John's eyes, not wanting to make things any worse than they were.
"Sure," John smiled softly, a slight red tinge on his cheeks. He averted his eyes, opting to stare at Sherlock's cabinets instead. After several moments, John stood up. "Ah! Forgot the cotton pads! Do you have any?" John asked, looking back down at Sherlock. Sherlock's shirt was half-buttoned, his pale skin peeking out from beneath his silk pyjamas. John coughed awkwardly and turned away. "Never mind, I think I know where it is." Even though John had seen plenty of male bodies, seeing as he was on plenty of sports teams, John couldn't help but feel nervous around Sherlock. John rustled through the cabinets, eventually finding a bag of cotton pads. John sat back down in front of Sherlock and opened the bottle of peroxide. He poured some on the cotton pad and looked back up at Sherlock. "It might sting a little."
Sherlock pulled off his shirt, and tried not to feel self conscious. John had seen plenty of shirtless guys, Sherlock told himself. John was an avid athlete; he played rugby, did swimming, and was in track and field. John was practically smothered by naked guys on a daily basis. Sherlock pulled away from the thought of John seeing naked men and focused back at him, nodding and biting his lip. He watched John carefully begin to clean his skin and winced a little. His face contorted slightly, but he mostly just tried to focus on John's hands. "It isn't as bad as it looks." Sherlock mumbled, realising a little late how bad the cuts and bruising patterning his chest must of looked.
John was appalled at the amount of damage that had been done on Sherlock's body. His chest was littered with bruises of all shapes and color, and there were cuts and scratches scattered from his neck down to his stomach. John couldn't believe that Sherlock had endured all of this, and it made John's heart clench painfully. "God Sherlock." he gasped. "I can't believe..." John bit his lip, his eyes searching Sherlock's. John patted the pad gently against a particularly large cut, causing Sherlock to hiss in pain and recoil slightly. "I'm sorry." John mumbled quietly, his hand withdrawing from Sherlock's chest. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to endure this. I'm sorry I couldn't help you.
Sherlock swallowed and shook his head. "It's okay." He mumbled, leaning against the wall a little. "It's not too bad." Not too bad compared to when it was inflicted. Sherlock looked up at John and watched him work, slowly reaching forward and brushing his cheek. "You couldn't have done anything." Sherlock murmured, searching John's eyes for a shred of understanding. "Even if you tried, nothing would've stopped him." Sherlock let go of John's face, so he wouldn't notice too many of the cuts or bruising on his arms, and held his hands in his lap.
John smiled at Sherlock's simple gesture. His warm fingers ghosted over John's cheek for a brief moment, making John forget for a few seconds the abuse that Sherlock had endured. John gave Sherlock a slow nod of understanding. "Can you turn around? I need to treat the ones on your back." he asked politely. Sherlock obliged and John resumed his care. He set aside the used cotton pad, picking up a new one and dousing it in peroxide. "I..." John's hands paused briefly, before he continued dabbing at Sherlock's cuts. "I just wish I could have done something."
Sherlock hugged his chest, arms close to his body. "Thank you." Sherlock whispered, almost inaudibly. "Thank you for caring." He said a little bit louder. He looked over his shoulder and fought the urge to lean and kiss John. He quickly focused back on the wall. "What are you going to do about... her?" Sherlock didn't really want to ask, or even think about John's girlfriend, but it seemed appropriate to ask after so much attention was being drawn to him. He wasn't sure how he felt about her, not now he'd basically made her boyfriend come and heal him at the middle of the night. But either way, he did want to know.
"Well, I'm going to break up with her." John frowned as his thoughts wandered to Angie. He supposed that she wouldn't take it very well. "It's the right thing to do. It wouldn't be fair to her, and especially not to you. I want to be with you Sherlock, and only you." John smiled softly as he set aside the cotton pad. John pulled out some bandages and began placing them carefully over the deep cuts on Sherlock's back. "Don't you worry about that, alright Sherlock? I'll take care of it."
Sherlock swallowed heavily and nodded. "You don't have to. If you want to leave it for a bit, break up with her later. It's really okay." Sherlock self consciously hugged his knees to his chest. He really didn't understand why John would come and help him, break up with his girlfriend for him and just... it was too much. He didn't understand what made him so special that John would give up everything for him. "I'd understand if you wanted to wait." He mumbled, itching the bruising on his leg and biting his lip.
"No Sherlock." John said firmly, looking Sherlock directly in the eyes. "It's not. I want to focus on you only. I don't love Angie, I love you." John crumpled the bandage wrappers and threw them into the trash bin. John rotated Sherlock around and handed him his shirt. "All done." John grinned, patting Sherlock on the shoulder. "Now just be careful, and everything should heal fine." John grabbed the first aid items and placed them back into Sherlock's drawer. John and Sherlock locked gazes, and the silence in the room become very noticeable. John muffled a cough, and turned away from Sherlock. "Well, I... uh, I suppose I should go." He picked up his shoes and began putting one on his left foot. "I should let you get to sleep..."
Sherlock felt a surge of panic rise in his stomach and he pulled John to him. "No, please. Don't." He bit his lip and blinked a couple of times. "I... I can't be alone right now. Please stay." He looked down and shook his head. "I'm sorry, you... You don't have to stay." He let go of John and walked to his bed, sitting on it and pulling himself into a ball. "You have a lot of things to sort out." He mumbled, turning away and watching the window carefully, trying to avoid John seeing the sheer desperation in his eyes.
John watched as Sherlock curled into a ball, and turned away from him. He climbed onto the bed and sat down next to Sherlock, drawing his knees up to his chest. The bed creaked under their weight. John peeked over at Sherlock, who was staring out the window. "Sherlock," John whispered quietly. "Do you have any pyjamas I could borrow for the night?"
Sherlock turned to John and smiled gratefully, tears in his eyes. "In the drawers, just whatever looks comfy." Sherlock suddenly realised the one very singular bed and blushed a little. He wasn't sure if John would be okay sleeping in the same bed as him, especially after the awkward nightmares he had been getting lately. He wanted to look to John for advice, but he didn't really want to make things anymore awkward. So Sherlock just moved over to the far side of the bed, and pushed his pillows so they were side by side, instead of on top of each other.
John went over to the drawers, grabbing a black tee-shirt and a comfy pair of grey sweats. He went to the corner of the room and began to change out of his jumper and his pants into the pyjamas. "Is it okay if I turn off the lights?" John asked. Sherlock gave a mumble of approval. John flicked off the switch, plunging the room into darkness, save for the light of the moon through the window. He ruffled his hands through his hair before making his way back to Sherlock's bed. He wiggled underneath the covers and rested his arm and head on the pillow. His other arm was hanging limply from the edge of the bed. John stared at the ceiling for a few moments, his heart beating like a drum and his face flushing a bright red (which Sherlock couldn't see in the dark, thank God). He waited a few moments before turning his head to look at Sherlock. "Good night, Sherlock." John whispered.
Sherlock turned his head, their noses brushing. "Good night." He whispered, not moving from that position. He wanted to pull John into him and make the nightmares stay away, but he had no idea how to do that subtly so he just left it. He awkwardly shifted to let John have more room, pulling most of the covers with him. He bit his lip to stop from laughing and looked back up at the ceiling.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for the follows and much appreciation to annie for the review! Don't forget to leave a review! :)
-omnomchocolate