Runaway Home

Chp 3

Three weeks. Yes, if he thought it through properly it had taken three weeks for John to fall in love. And he fell hard.

He fell in love with Mrs. Hudson's cooking, her tea, her motherly nature, the way she insisted on straightening out their flat while telling them she was not their housekeeper, and how she would dote on him as if he were a china doll. He fell in love with the flat itself, the way it always smelled of chemicals and the musty scent of old books, that the fridge always contained some body parts, the way the heater rattled at two in the morning, and even how the fourth step seemed to be out to kill him. Most of all though, he fell in love with his ever mysterious flat mate Sherlock Holmes, and that was the deepest love of all. He loved those dark curls and deadly eyes, he loved the way the man played violin at all hours of the night, he loved how he would get so excited with a new case, he even loved him when he was bored and running up the walls. He definitely loved him when he was being flawlessly clever. There was no explanation for it all; everything John thought he should find annoying or weird he was growing to love more and more. It made him start questioning himself. Before all of this he would have said he'd been in love with Sarah, with rugby, and with hanging out with his mates at the local fish and chips shack. Now he realized he couldn't have been, because he'd been fine to throw all of that away, but this… he wouldn't give it up for the world.

He'd come to discover this approximately five weeks into his stay at 221B Baker Street, specifically on the day he got a ride home from the Tesco. He'd finally gotten an interview and managed to maintain a lower level of awkwardness than usual long enough to earn himself the job, and by some miracle he'd even been able to convince some of the other employees that he was not, in fact, some barmy runaway. On his thirteenth day of employment, though, he was stopped short on his walk home by a black Lincoln. At first he thought he'd been imagining it; there was no way that the woman, who was far too pretty to have any interest in John, was waving for him to come towards the car. When it continued to follow him down the street he decided that perhaps it wasn't just a figment of his imagination and ventured over to the looming vehicle.

"May I help you?"

He asked, trying not to sound too nervous. The woman smiled at him mechanically and opened the door. After she scooted to the other seat she motioned for him to get in. John wasn't sure if that was a good idea; he'd learned in primary school not to take rides from strangers. There was something in the pit of his stomach that just wanted to leap in though. He knew what it was, and he liked the mystery of it all. John had to refrain from rolling his eyes - he found himself so predictable, and despite his desire to stick to normal conventions he had always jumped head first into an adventure. So, of course, he climbed into the car with no more than a moment's hesitation.

"Can I ask what it is that you want with me?"

"My boss just wants to have a quick chat is all."

The woman replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world and pulled out a blackberry which she immediately began typing away on. John just turned to look out the window as they drove through the city. He wasn't an overly anxious bloke, but he started to get a bit paranoid the farther they got from Baker Street. He contemplated texting Sherlock to let him know that he'd been possibly been kidnapped. At least that way if he was being abducted he could count on being found soon - he just hoped it would be alive. Not that the woman seemed exceedingly threatening, but she wasn't very warm or welcoming either. Besides, they were getting closer and closer to what Mrs. Hudson referred to as the 'seedy' parts of town. He gave a quick look over at the woman; she hadn't appeared to look up from her phone, which John took as an invitation to sneak his own out to send a quick text.

Took a ride from a stranger, may not have been the best idea, getting farther and farther away from the flat.

He sent the text off and placed his phone back in his pocket, satisfied with himself for getting the job done. Just then the car pulled into a worn down warehouse that didn't seem to be very structurally sound in John's opinion. The woman smiled at him and motioned for him to exit the car, which he did, but very slowly. At first there was nothing - he stepped out of the car and the more he walked away from it the deeper the sinking feeling in his stomach went. Curse his sense of adventure, he should have known better, now he was going to be killed and it would be his murder Sherlock solved this week. John's phone buzzed but before he could reach to retrieve it a tall man sporting an umbrella strolled up. John contemplated answering his phone anyway, perhaps he'd have a few seconds to scream out to Sherlock (or at least he assumed it was Sherlock calling)… things about his captor or the place he'd been taken; with any luck he'd be found before he was dead.

"Let's let him wait, shall we? You'll be able to talk with him soon enough."

The man's voice was stern and sent chills down John's spine, but he found it somewhat reassuring to hear he'd be able to talk with Sherlock soon.

"Who are you?"

John asked cautiously. The man smiled and swiveled his umbrella.

"Surely you've heard of me. My name is Mycroft Holmes, I'm Sherlock's brother."

The boy didn't know whether to relax or become even more concerned. From what he'd heard Mycroft was a very powerful man, although not someone Sherlock was very fond of, but that didn't necessarily mean he was in danger.

"Couldn't you have just given me a ring? I would have met you if you'd asked; Sherlock could have come with us."

He said motioning to his phone that was ringing again.

"His presence is not required at this time. This is a conversation for just the two of us, which is precisely why I couldn't simply 'ring' you. When dealing with Sherlock one must be… sneaky."

He explained with a light huff, as if this whole conversation was a horrible inconvenience.

"I'm sorry… what is it that you need to discuss with me?"

Mycroft stopped examining his umbrella to bring his intense stare up to John; the blond found he didn't like this look very much at all, to put it mildly. If he were the age Mrs. Hudson was always treating him like, he might have wet his pants right there.

"You're living with my brother. I would have contacted you sooner but I had some… business to attend to. At any rate, perhaps it's good you had some time first. I take it you plan on staying at Baker Street for a while?"

John flexed his hand nervously. He wasn't sure how he should be responding; he wasn't sure what Sherlock would want him to say to the man. John was still a horrible liar though, despite all his time spent with the detective, and decided this was not the sort of man you lied badly to and lived to tell the tale.

"Yes. I like it there very much… thank you, by the way."

Even if the man was terrifying and possibly kidnapping him, he still felt the need to thank him for the flat. It was one of the greatest and kindest things anyone had done for him, whether or not he was some scary umbrella wielding maniac.

"You're very welcome. Mrs. Hudson told me you plan on paying your share once you've saved enough money."

John nodded. It was true; he had planned on paying for his half once he'd earned enough money. He liked having it paid for, but he didn't want to mooch off of the Holmes's generosity.

"That is noble of you, but not necessary. I'm more than willing to pay both your and my brother's shares so long as you continue to be such a good influence on him."

"Ok… thank you… I'm glad you think I'm a good influence… is that all you needed to say to me?"

John shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He wasn't exactly sure where this conversation was going, but he knew for sure that he really didn't like it when the tall man looked at him like that.

"John, I am well aware of your status as an unattended minor. Mrs. Hudson brought it to my attention the minute she left you in that flat. If it weren't for your troubling home life and the fact your family has yet to file a missing persons report, I'd have had you shipped back in a heartbeat. Mrs. Hudson and I agreed, however, that perhaps you need my brother just as much as he needs you. Please understand though, harboring a runaway is not something either of us takes lightly. If you cause trouble you will be sent home without a moment's notice, abusive father or no. I don't expect you to be a troublemaker, but I have to take the precaution; this is my little brother we're talking about, and I have to look out for him at all costs."

John didn't think he was going to cause trouble, but he felt he would now be hyper aware of doing so. The thought of returning home was worrying to say the least. Mycroft must have sensed his distress because he flashed what must have been his attempt at a comforting smile at the boy.

"Don't worry; you've done fine so far. In fact I'm more concerned about my brother dragging you into trouble than the other way around… although there is one more thing we must talk about."

John fought against the urge to audibly gulp; the longer this conversation dragged on the more anxious he became. He managed to nod his head despite his growing discomfort to confirm that he was listening.

"While I may allow you to continue your residence at Baker Street, I cannot allow you to ignore your studies. I believe the reason you ran away was your father and not school as your grades were in top form. I presume you have no qualms with picking back up at the beginning of this coming school year? Either way, I have already filed the proper forms to have you enrolled at a nearby private academy."

That was… unexpected.

"I… wow, um, that's very kind of you but I really don't think I can afford-"

"Don't worry yourself with the cost. I have a few friends and had some strings pulled, you'll be going on a scholarship… provided you're still planning on continuing your studies in the medical field."

Now John was really surprised. How could the man know what John had been planning to do with his life? He'd only recently come to the decision and was fairly certain he hadn't told anyone.

"Don't look so surprised, I checked your computer's search history. You've been looking into medical schools. Good for you; with any luck, this will help you get in."

"I… I don't know how to thank you, this is… this is… amazing, thank you, thank you so much!"

John was grinning ear to ear now and he was certain he was the biggest arse in the world; this man was possibly one of the kindest men he'd ever met, even if he was unbelievably intimidating. Sherlock probably found his nosiness annoying and disrupting, even if he was just trying to help. It was possible that John could one day come close to feeling the same, but right now he was nothing but grateful. Never had anyone taken such an interest in his future; it was an uplifting feeling.

"No need to thank me, you've done more for my brother in the past few weeks than most have in his whole life. Just continue to be his friend and I see no need to ask for any further compensation."

John nodded his head furiously; he hadn't planned on ending his friendship with Sherlock anytime soon so it was nothing at all. After a quick goodbye in which John found himself unable to stop thanking the formidable man, who accepted his thanks with little more than a humble nod, he was on his way home. The whole ride home he could hardly contain his excitement; it was just too good to be true. A free place to live, a private education, and a new set of friends he'd come to like possibly more than the ones he'd made over a lifetime back home. It was a lot for one afternoon to say the least. He could hardly keep himself from knocking the door down when he came hurtling up the stairs and into the flat. Sherlock was perched on his chair and poised to jump, which he did once he laid eyes on John. He sprang from his seat and moved across the room in a few long strides so he could once again invade John's personal space.

"It was my brother, wasn't it."

More of a statement than a question, John thought; obviously Sherlock sorted it out somehow. There was an unmistakable bite to the detective's tone that made John flinch as he recalled the nearly forgotten icy attitude towards his brother.

"Yes, it was, Sherlock you won't believe what he's done-"

"Paid for your education? I suspected as much. He likely saw your search history as well and deduced the most probable way to ensure you'd continue living here."

John wasn't sure whether to feel creeped out that both the Holmes brothers had been looking through his computer, or happy that it had led to such a preferable situation.

"Is that a bad thing? You don't sound very happy. Should I have declined…?"

Sherlock stared at the boy for a beat before turning and crossing the room once again.

"No, do what pleases you. It's of little concern to me. This situation will be beneficial for both of us as it means that I will no longer be required to call in any favors in regards to your schooling."

John nearly pinched himself; did he hear that correctly? Since when did Sherlock concern himself with anybody's business but his own, especially if it wouldn't be conductive for any of the cases he was working on?

"You… you were going to do that?"

Sherlock turned around again to observe John. He seemed more on edge than usual. The blond tried to remain calm in hopes that the detective would explain himself.

"Of course. The question is, did Mycroft think I was going to do that? Did he think I didn't care enough, or did he know I would and beat me to it just because he could? He's been a rather insufferable show off in past…"

If it wasn't all so strange John would be flattered. Sherlock had been planning to do the same and was upset that his brother had beaten him to it. It was an oddly thoughtful gesture from the normally disinterested detective.

"Honestly, it seemed like he was more concerned about giving me an incentive to stay here. Which is stupid, because I don't really need one. I was more than willing to pay for my half of the flat and find my own way into school. Not that I'm not grateful, because believe me, I am… he did mention causing trouble though, so it could also be a way to keep an eye on me."

John actually hadn't considered that until he said it, but it did make a good deal of sense. Mycroft did seem the type to monitor people, and this would be a good way to do that. Sherlock seemed to agree as he nodded his head and then narrowed his eyes. Three calculated steps later he was close enough to John that he could feel the detective's breath brushing across his face.

"Did he threaten you?"

His voice was dark and domineering; John didn't dare try to lie his way out of this one either. In fact, he was finding it rather hard to lie to anyone in London; even considering his lack of talent for it he'd never found it this difficult before.

"Well… I mean, I guess you could say that… I don't think he's planning on going through with it though. He seemed to like me well enough. I mean, he is letting me live with you."

There was a moment of silence that dragged on for what seemed like ages and John wasn't sure if he'd said something wrong or if Sherlock was just angry about his brother interfering. Both were distinct possibilities.

"He has no say in it you know."

The detective finally blurted out so quickly that John almost thought he'd imagined it.

"No say in what?"

John asked, not entirely sure he knew where this was going. With Sherlock he could be three conversations ahead of him by now, so there was no telling what the man was talking about at this point.

"Do keep up – he has no say in whether or not you live here. As long as you want to stay, there will be a place for you."

John smiled at that; he had to admit, he liked all the random attention that day. Sherlock hadn't said anything before to indicate he'd cared either way, so it was definitely reassuring to know that his affections were being returned on some level.

"Yeah, I plan on sticking around for a while, at least until you get sick of me."

John said with a light chuckle as Sherlock's eyebrows shot up about ten feet.

"Sick of you? Honestly John, self-loathing isn't a good look for anybody, much less you."

Now it was John's turn for his eyebrows to defy gravity. He hadn't actually meant it to sound like he was being down on himself. Now that he thought of it though, that was really what it boiled down to. He was insecure about the whole situation; he was sure it was too good to be true. He'd learned from experience that things like this didn't last long, especially for him, and he knew this wouldn't be any different. Sherlock was a brilliant detective with a short attention span, and it was only a matter of time before he lost interest in his adolescent flat mate. There was no way he could explain that to the detective though; he didn't understand things like emotions, he'd ask too many questions and he would never really understand entirely. Besides, John knew how these things worked; Sherlock would deny it until the one day he would admit that it was true and John would be back out on the streets. Best to just brush it off for now and not let it ruin what time they had.

"Right… I… of course, you're right. I'll just be upstairs changing, alright?"

John gave a tight smile and headed up the stairs before Sherlock had time to comment. With any luck that would be the last he heard of the discussion. He changed quickly and it wasn't before long that he heard the sweet song of Sherlock's violin once more. The detective was thinking… about what, John wasn't sure.