Runaway Home

Chp 8

Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Sherlock ran through the empty school building at a record pace, rushing passed classrooms and stairwells. They'd be somewhere private, some place they could be left alone. Judging by dampness of the floors they had to be on the east wing of the building. That would be where the custodial crew started their cleaning, once finished there anyone could sneak in undisturbed until the morning came. The more wet the floor, the more recent the mopping, hence John being in the east wing. His mind overviewed the facts a few times to assure himself of their validity, he couldn't make a mistake, not tonight. John's life was at stake and he couldn't bare the thought of not making it on time. In fact he had to delete his calculations on the probability John was already dead several times just to maintain focus.

He skidded to a halt when out of the corner of his eye he saw a sliver of light peeking out beneath a door. Without a moment to loose the detective hurtled towards the door and flung it open. Once open he could see into the vast classroom where both John and an old cab driver were seated at a large table. John looked at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth and the cabbie merely smirked. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and then…his heart stopped. He staggered on his feet and could feel his face pale considerably. Before he realized what he was doing he had started to run towards John. He stopped just in front of the shocked boy and stared down at him with eyes the size of dinner plates. John's mouth was moving, he was trying to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

"John."

Sherlock croaked and he flinched as the empty bottle in John's hand fell out of his grasp with a crash on the floor.

"Sherlock, I didn't-I thought…"

His voice trailed off and all Sherlock could do was shake his head, refusing to accept this.

"No, no, this…it's going to be fine, we're taking you to a hospital now!"

With that Sherlock hauled the boy up from his seat and began racing hand in hand back towards the door.

"I wouldn't bother with that, mate. It won't do your friend any good."

The old man called out. Sherlock pivoted on his heel to glare at the man with a burning intensity.

"And why is that?"

He spit out venomously. The old man gave him a polite smile and straightened out his shirt before speaking.

"Pills take an affect forty seconds after consumption. Anywhere from five to twenty after that death follows."
Sherlock flinched at the word death, as did John. For a moment he wondered if the cabbie would make up the story, but he was adept at reading faces and could tell that the man was speaking the truth. Part of him wanted to fight it, to rush John to hospital despite the effectiveness of the drug. When he thought about John having to spend his last moments in a hurried panic just to make the detective feel more at ease, he knew that he couldn't do it. It wouldn't help John; it would just make him feel more productive. He turned to the boy and cupped his face in his hand.

"It's going to be ok."

He tried his hardest to sound reassuring, but his voice was faltering. John nodded but his eyes were becoming moist and his lips trembled. That face, that terrified and completely innocent face, it made him want to scream. It made him want to kill the old man, and he would, soon.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock."

The boy gasped as a single tear streaked across his tanned cheek. Sherlock could feel his own tears threatening to spill over. It wasn't fair, if he'd been just a moment earlier! John was too young; he was too kind and perfect for something like this to happen to him! The detective reached forward and pulled the boy in for a back breaking hug which he gladly accepted. John shook as he began to cry into the tall man's shoulder. It didn't take long for his knees to give out from the crushing reality that his life was just about to come to an end, but Sherlock held fast and followed him to the floor letting the boy rest in his lap with his head still cradled next to the man's lean shoulder.

"I'm scared Sherlock."

One tear escaped from the detective's eye at the blonde's quiet admission, the first one to dribble down his cheek in years.

"I know, but I'm here, it's going to be ok, I won't leave your side. I will be right here."

They sat there for a few silent moments. Then Sherlock could feel a weak smile spreading across John's face against his shoulder. The boy pulled away briefly to look at the detective.

"What is it John?"

Sherlock asked, honestly confused as to what John could have to smile about.

"It's been fifty five seconds."

He said simply.

Sherlock's face broke into a nervous smile and he turned his head to get a good look at the cabbie. He was only slightly surprised that the man had begun to convulse on the ground. His eyes were pinned on the detective and he wore a manic sort of smile.

"B-bet you didn't see th-this one coming! Not even the g-great Sher-rlock Holmes is going to put me in the pen! I won, I was cleverer then y-you!"

The older man sputtered as his mouth began to foam and his body was racked with more violent convulsions. Sherlock looked back at John who appeared to be in a great deal of shock.

"Come on John, we don't need to see this."

He stood holding the boy up and led him out of the classroom. They managed to shuffle down the hallway for a minute before John collapsed again.

"John! Are you alright?"

Sherlock's heart started to go into overdrive again, was it possible that both pills had been lethal this time? He knelt down to examine the boy; John just looked up at the man through bleary eyes though and shook his head.

"I thought I was dead. I-I thought it was all over. I thought…I escaped my dad just to be killed because of some stupid text messaging mix up. I-I was so sure it was your brother…."

John's voice was breaking and his hands were trembling, it gave Sherlock a strong urge to go back into that room to kick the now (more than likely) dead serial killer.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this…I shouldn't have used your phone without your knowledge, it was…wrong of me. Please, I, please know if I'd have known…I didn't think he was going to text back so I just let myself fall asleep."

Sherlock wasn't accustomed to apologizing, and even now the words scathed his mouth, but he didn't mind. It'd be worse for John to think it himself, to hold it against the detective. He wouldn't be able to cope if his actions tonight led to the end of this friendship. John gave him another weak smile and motioned for the taller man to come closer. Sherlock leaned in not knowing what to expect actually, but their faces were close, and he could feel John's warm sweet breath on his lips. A strange sensation he thought, one that he would have previously considered most undesirable, and maybe it still was, with anyone who wasn't the boy sitting beneath him. The detective could feel a sort of prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a sensation that filled him with a nervous excitement. They were only centimeters apart, but for some reason that still felt like too much. He licked his lips, still waiting, wondering, what the boy was to going to do. Then it hit him, quite literally, John's hand came in to contact with his cheek in a most unpleasant manner. The smack echoed through the empty hallway fallowed immediately after by Sherlock's gasp.

"You-you hit me."

He stammered incredulously. John's smile widened and he started to giggle.

"Damn right, now we're even."

Sherlock could feel a bubble of laughter coursing through him as well, and for a while the two of them just sat there chuckling to themselves in the dark. Finally John cleared his throat and gave the detective a serious look.

"You should probably call D.I. Lestrade, tell him what happened…you don't think-"

"They won't be mad at you, if anything they'll be angry with me. And no, you can stop worrying, they won't send you home, I won't let them."

Sherlock stated with little room for argument.

"You're right though, I should inform Lestrade. You did just kill a man."

The tall man said with a wink. For a moment John's face was stricken with grief, but it was soon replaced with smirk.

"Well, he wasn't a very nice man."

The two of them started laughing again, Sherlock laughed so hard he could no longer hold himself up and slipped into a sitting position next to John. They leaned against the cool wall for support as the laughter shook through them. Finally they were breathing normally again and Sherlock pulled out his phone to make the call. Needless to say Lestrade was more than a little bit confused, but he promised to be there quickly. The detective hung up with a sigh and turned back towards the boy whose eyes were focused in on the tall man. Sherlock felt his heart skip a beat; it was a heady thing to have those big blue eyes studying your every move. His breath hitched a bit and he wondered if perhaps he was coming down with something.

"You know, he thought I was a rent boy too. Whatever you're going around telling people cut it out. Sooner or later someone's going to proposition me."

The boy said with a smile. Sherlock scoffed in mock offense which sent them over the edge once more. When the yard finally arrived they found the two still giggling in the hall way, something Lestrade referred to as 'unsettling'. The taller man had argued when the inspector insisted on covering them with those ridiculous orange blankets, but the smile on John's face had taken the harshness out of his voice so most of his insults and demands fell flat. When they'd finally gone home the adrenaline seemed to have warn off and it was now early morning, the sun was up and Mrs. Hudson was bustling about the kitchen but the two friends were ready to collapse in their beds. Sherlock laid himself out on the couch and readied himself for a brief nap before he got back up to finish his experiments, and probably to call in sick for John, he wasn't so sure how safe he felt having him out of his sight so soon. The boy walked over to the detective just as he was preparing himself for sleep and cleared his throat. Sherlock peeled one eye open to observe the blonde.

"I've just got one last question…before I loose the nerve to ask…why were we…ya know…"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. No, he most certainly did not know. Did John think him some sort of mind reader? Just as he was about to voice this thought he realized what the boy had been referring to. John had woken up to the two of them laying together on the couch. Hmmm…this might be problematic. He wasn't sure how comfortable John was with his sexuality, or what his sexuality was for that matter. It was possible that it had upset John, that he was offended about sleeping with a man. Or he could have found himself flustered, and aroused, at the situation. That thought sent shivers down his spine for some indiscernible reason.

"You were having a nightmare, hyperventilating, I needed to increase your airflow. Once you'd calmed down I didn't want to disturb you, and I'd thought the cabbie wasn't texting back, leaving me with a dead end, so I decided to sleep."

John nodded his head as he processed the information and then began walking back to his room.

"Ok, sorry if it was too much trouble…I don't mean to do it or anything…"

He said and then paused just before he started his climb up the stairs. Without looking at the detective he began to speak again.

"Could you not tell anyone? About the dreams or the…ya know…the way I sort of lost it back there? It's well…it's a bit embarrassing."

John confessed griping tightly to the railing. Sherlock was taken back, what should he be embarrassed about? Emotions were normal, he should know, he'd been ridiculed his whole life for lacking them. Quickly he made his way over to the boy and laid a hand on one broad shoulder. John turned with a start to stare up at the tall man wide eyed.

"Don't think that way, I don't. You're displaying natural reactions based off the chemicals being released in your brain. I promise I won't tell anyone though, if it will make you feel more secure. Just don't think I think less of you for it."

John nodded and began making his way up the stairs again. The detective's arm shot out and caught the blonde's hand, preventing him from going any further. He looked down at the detective clearly confused. Sherlock dipped his head down to avoid those deep blue eyes, opting to observe the floor boards instead.

"I'm glad you didn't die tonight, John. Your death…it would have affected me greatly."

John smiled at that and let out a small huff in amusement.

"Thanks Sherlock. I'd be a bit put off if you died too…I'll see you later, ok?"

He pulled away from the detective and continued up the stairs. Sherlock let a warm smile spread across his face. It seemed he was growing to become quite fond of this caring lot.