Runaway Home

Chp 4

"You can't be serious."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the bemused detective inspector. Lestrade had never been the brightest of men in the detective's eyes but he'd never taken him to be as spectacularly dim as he was acting now. He'd come over with another overly simplistic case and despite Sherlock already solving it, insisted on staying. Apparently he found it perplexing that John was living here, he almost jumped out of his skin when John walked out of the bathroom. Which the blond would later most likely refer to as an 'embarrassing' moment, it seemed that Lestrade had come to the conclusion (based off little factual evidence because really there were at least five other far more practical scenarios for a shirtless teenagers to have just emerged from his shower) that John was a rent boy. The detective rectified the situation quickly by pointing out all the obvious clues indicating that the inspector had once again deduced incorrectly. John's entrance and now confirmed flat mat status was why Lestrade was now questioning Sherlock's severity, which the detective found highly annoying.

"Of course I'm serious, why would I joke about something so asinine?"

Lestrade looked as though he were fighting the urge to pace about the room as his gaze moved between the detective and his young shirtless companion.

"You can't honestly sit there and tell me my surprise is unfounded."

"I never said your surprise was unfounded, you made that illogical assumption all on your own (you really should stop trying to put words in my mouth), I merely stated that your reaction to my new living arrangements is obtuse."

The inspector let out a huff of irritated breath and ran one of his calloused hands through his silver hair. John was still standing at the edge of the living room and was growing more uncomfortable with each passing minute.

"Maybe I should go change…"

The boy murmured and made way to leave the room in a hurry.

"No. Stay here John, sit, I have a feeling the impending conversation revolves around you, you should be present."

John stopped but he didn't make any move to sit, he simply stared at the two men with a building sense of confusion and curiosity. Sherlock smirked, the boy may not be nearly as intelligent or as eccentric as the detective, but he certainly shared that gnawing curiosity, the ever present need to know. He supposed that was why John always insisted on him explaining his deductions.

"Sherlock."

Lestrade said in a warning tone. The detective ignored him however and stood to cross the room and stand behind the boy. Two large hands rested on John's bare shoulders and the man they belonged to looked the inspector dead in the eye as he did it.

"Whatever you have to say you can say it in front of the both of us."

Lestrade looked at them warily before taking in a deep steadying breath.

"He's a kid. What the hell are you doing with a kid? Does Mycroft realize you're shacked up with a minor?"

John's muscles tensed beneath Sherlock's hands and the detective narrowed his eyes. Lestrade's presence was no longer a welcomed one as it was causing John obvious signs of distress. Sherlock also found that the inspector's attitude towards this was unpleasant and planned to do away with him as quickly as possible.

"There is little in this world that Mycroft does not know, so yes, of course he is aware. In fact he encouraged it. Besides, John is far from being a child, he is 16…and we're not 'shacked up'."

The detective stated matter-of-factly, Lestrade seemed far from impressed though.

"16 is still a kid. I don't know what your brother is thinking, honestly, I'd be concerned for a grown man living with you let alone a kid. I hate to break it to you Sherlock but you are one of the most reckless and irresponsible people I know. You chase after criminals and conduct deadly experiments! What kind of environment is that for a kid? Do you even know how to take care of a child? Believe me when I say that kids require a lot of patience and maturity, neither of which you have. This is dangerous, for both of you. Where are his parents anyways? Don't tell me Mycroft just kidnapped some kid for your enjoyment."

John's body went unimaginably rigid at the mention of parents which caused Sherlock to tighten his grip. The inspector had moved from an annoyance to a threat. The last thing he wanted was for Lestrade to start poking his nose where it didn't belong. He couldn't shine a light to the detective when it came to murder investigations, but he wasn't completely incompetent. If he were so inclined he was capable of finding John's parents and informing them of their son's location. That was something the detective did not intend on happening.

"His parents are of no concern of yours. Any way, he's not some infant, he can care for himself. My lifestyle choices make no impact on him what so ever, he thinks for himself."

Lestrade shook his head in disapproval and John shifted uncomfortably in Sherlock's grasp. The detective bit back a snarl, didn't the inspector realize just how stupid and pointless this was? John liked it here, more surprisingly, Sherlock liked him there, couldn't he see that?

"You honestly believe that? Sherlock, your brother has more authority than I could ever dream of and if you're telling the truth about his approval then I'm sure he'll make it impossible for me to find his parents, but maybe you should. Think about it, actually think about something other than yourself or your cases and your experiments, we're talking about this kid's life. Do you really want him getting caught in the cross fire? What if you have another break in? I know you've had them, even if you didn't report it; I'm not as blind as you think. What if he gets hurt? You have no right to put someone else's child at risk! We're just talking about the big stuff too, what about the little things? Kid's need to be cared for, not sent off on their own. Are you going to make sure he's going to school or keep him out of trouble? Can you even make sure he gets fed? I've seen your fridge before, and food isn't normally in the majority. Jesus, have you thought this through at all?"

For a moment Sherlock's mind drew a blank because no, no he had not. John did not appear to be a child to him, he was smart (well, as smart compared to the average mind) and wise in a lot of ways. There were times when he even surpassed Sherlock in his insights (not that he'd admit that). So caring for him hadn't really posed itself as a priority. He thought back on his own self at that age, arrogant and self involved without any regard for his own personal safety…actually, he hadn't changed much. But he was far more volatile back then, took unnecessary risks for the thrill, he'd gotten himself involved with drugs and bad group of kids. He had Mycroft and his mother looking out for him too, all John had was…John. Supposing he made a wrong choice, there would be no one there to help him out of it. Well, that wasn't true, because Sherlock knew that there was no way he'd let anything happen to the one person he'd come to like. He didn't understand it, but John was special and something deep down told him that letting something happen to that boy was not an option. John coughed breaking the silence and the glare Lestrade and Sherlock had been exchanging.

"You know, I am standing right here. You're talking as if I'm off someplace else…I'm sure you only have the best of intentions inspector, but honestly I'm better off here. I'm safer than I've ever been I think. My house was always filled with criminals, my dad and his friends, and I got-um-hurt on more than one occasion. So I know how to handle myself around the type. I'm not the type to run off and cause trouble either, that was my sister, I know how to keep myself in line. Plus, I know how to fend for myself and I've always gotten to school on my own before. It may be hard to believe sir, but living with Sherlock these past two months is the most cared for I've ever felt. Mrs. Hudson sees to it that I'm fed and don't look like too much of a barmy git when I leave the flat…and Sherlock keeps me company and even has taught me a few things."

John sounded more confident then Sherlock would have presumed him to be. More shocking was that he even found himself oddly touched by his words, and as the boy talked there was a sort of warmth spreading through his chest. It was inexplicable but John some how had found a way to reassure him and put everything perfectly in perspective. John was proficient enough to see to his own needs, he was not the fragile boy Lestrade had made him out to be. However, some of the inspector's words still rang true. He would have to put more effort forth to keep John safe. John wasn't a trouble maker that was true, but he was curious, and he could see the gleam in his eye that longed for a thrill. With all the unsavory character's Sherlock attracted it wasn't impossible to think one might get the better of the boy, trick him and inevitably hurt him. Most likely as a means of revenge against the detective, he had put several murders behind bars; it could be that they had some friends looking for retribution. He'd like to think John would avoid any unfamiliar situation that could lead to harm, but he had climbed into his brother's car.

Despite what was going on in the detective's mind the inspector actually seemed some what satisfied. He nodded his head appreciatively at the boy and Sherlock could feel a swell of pride, as if John had passed some important test. Lestrade gave a short farewell and was on his way in no time. This seemed to relieve John considerably as his muscles relaxed and his breathing became less controlled. He stepped out of Sherlock's clutches and the detective felt an almost immediate longing to capture those shoulders again, to feel their warmth radiating through the palms of his hands.

"Wow, he was grumpy huh?"

John chuckled turning to face Sherlock who simply shrugged in response. He was finding it hard to form words at the moment he was so confused. He'd never wanted to touch another person, never felt this need to feel his skin against another's. It was utterly puzzling and infuriating. Why was John's open chest so inviting? Why did he have this undying urge to just…touch?

"Oh, hey, by the way if you're planning on people coming over why don't you warn me before I head into the shower? I could have brought some clothes in there with me instead of walking out like a bloody wanker in nothing but my underpants."

Sherlock couldn't help but crack a smile and John shoved him lightly in retaliation. With that the boy headed up the stairs to his room, no doubt to get dressed. Sherlock found that his smile didn't leave with him though; it was still firmly planted on his face. It was odd feeling so attached to someone, but it wasn't unwelcome. In fact it was rather nice. It still mystified the detective, but he figured he would have plenty of time to discover the meaning behind all of these smiles, warm tinglings, and the strange sensation to reach out and touch the boy. He would have all the time in the world, because as far as he was concerned John wasn't going anywhere for a long time. He'd see to that, he would prove Lestrade wrong, he would take good care of John and in return John would continue to create these strangely fantastic new emotions.