Runaway Home
Chp 13
"Am I allowed to edit some of these?"
"No."
"Come on, some of these have absolutely nothing to do with cases."
"The rules aren't for cases; they're for you, to keep you safe."
"Yes well, you could have fooled me."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, John agreed to the terms hours ago, but that didn't stop his complaining. It made the detective wonder if the boy might break them, if he might deem them as unnecessary. Especially since he'd agreed in haste, he could have done so blindly just so Sherlock would take him to the museum, because it wasn't until after their visit that John began to complain. Not seconds after entering the flat did he begin to try and debate the detective's guidelines. Which was highly irritating.
The day before Sherlock had been out of his mind with panic and guilt when he heard John try and fail to call out his name. It was only made worse when he saw the boy's limp body sprawled on the stairs with the familiar paper flower. He hadn't felt that amount of terror since the 'study in pink'. If he was honest a good portion of him really didn't want John working the cases for his safety, but another part, a selfish part, needed him to. He needed to convince John of his exciting nature, to get rid of all those girls, to have John near him and with him always. It was selfish but he couldn't deny the appeal. Besides, the practical side of his mind reminded him that John was a stubborn and strong willed boy; he'd find his way to crime scenes if that's what he wanted.
"Sherlock, are you even paying attention?"
The boy's harsh voice called out pulling Sherlock from his inner musings. He observed the boy cautiously, he was obviously annoyed and not dropping this subject. The detective sighed deeply realizing John wasn't going to drop this.
"Not particularly. Why, were you saying something of interest?"
Sherlock replied indifferently.
"Oh, you can be such a prat some times! You can't be serious about all of these, it's completely overboard and not necessary. Like, a curfew? Come on, my dad didn't even give me a curfew."
John roared petulantly. Sherlock shuttered at the mention of John's father and sat up on the couch so that he changed his view of the ceiling to that of John pouting in his arm chair.
"Well, I'm certainly not your father, so that is of little importance to me."
He wasn't sure if he should stress that point, make sure that John did in fact agree. Sherlock suppressed a shiver as the thought of John seeing him as a father figure crossed his mind. That would not do, it really wouldn't.
"No shit, you're probably the farthest thing from my dad humanly possible. I just mean you're being really strict."
John said relaxing a bit but crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
"I beg to differ, I was being perfectly logical in the making of that list. I'm not acting out of some need to control you, simply to ensure you remain living."
Sherlock wasn't entirely certain about the validity of that statement but it wouldn't do John any good to know that. At any rate, he was determined for the boy to accept the conditions without so much fuss; it was becoming tiresome to ague over such things when they had a case to work on. He needed to focus, plan for their meeting with the missing museum woman, it wouldn't be much longer before the museum was closed.
"If you are so bothered by the list why don't you state your complaints, hmm? Go through the list, tell me what you think of each item, if need be I will explain my decision to you."
John was silent for a moment but then pulled out the folded piece of paper from his pocket.
"Rule one, no getting into cars with strangers. Nothing wrong with this one, although you only put it on there to be a prick."
John snorted and Sherlock simply smiled at the boy rather than respond.
"Rule two, never leave the flat with out your phone fully charged and on. I suppose that's fine, I get that one. Rule three however…you must not stay out past midnight."
"What's wrong with that one? Criminal activity is known to increase in the later hours; the likelihood of you being attacked goes up astronomically."
John grumbles to himself as the detective looks at him pointedly.
"Fine…rule four and five sort of go hand in hand. Carry a butterfly knife and take boxing lessons. I don't own a butterfly knife nor do I know how to use one, besides, I can't afford to by a knife and pay or some fighting class. I don't even know when I'd have time for lessons once classes start back up, some of us have jobs you know."
Sherlock scoffed at the boy's mocking tone.
"Consulting detective, remember? It is a job. Just one that I've invented, but that makes little difference. Also, you can stop griping about costs, I already planned to give you mine, I have no use for it and I will teach you how to use it obviously. As for the boxing lessons I will teach you that as well."
John burst out into a deep laugh and the detective looked at the boy curiously.
"What's so funny?"
John shook his head and let his laughter quiet a bit before speaking.
"You, boxing. I can't even imagine!"
Sherlock stiffened and sniffed his nose high into the air.
"And why ever not?"
He questioned through tight lips. He'd never been very fond about being mocked, even if it was just John.
"Well, I don't know you can be so posh and spoiled at times. I just can't see you doing something that requires so much effort. Plus, the thought of you taking instructions from someone whose job it is to hit you?"
Despite himself Sherlock's lips twitched into a smirk as the last of John's snickers died out.
"You know me too well I suppose, I taught myself of course and at my own convenience. When my father attempted to get me an instructor originally I'd insulted him to the brink of tears. I've never worked well with superiors…well I say superiors…"
John laughed again and this time the detective joined him.
"Hold on, there's still more to this list."
John said adamantly putting an end to their jesting.
"Rule six is that I can't do anything without your knowledge, that's…fine, I guess. It makes sense any way. Rule seven says I can't be a hero? What does that even mean?"
"Simple. Don't act under the false pretense that I will allow you to risk your own life to save someone else's, or to do something potentially dangerous for the sake of the victim. Based off our previous conversations regarding cases I determined there was a possibility of you doing something of that nature and I'm informing you it's not allowed."
Sherlock deadpanned resulting in a grimace from the boy sitting in the arm chair.
"What if it's you? You came to save me from the cabbie, am I not supposed to come save you?"
All the detective could do was stare for a moment as his mind silently spun out of control. John would risk his life for Sherlock? That was new, not completely unexpected, he had considered it obviously, but it was different to hear it out loud. It was a heady thought too, that John would willingly risk his life for Sherlock. No one he knew or known would act the same way, though Mycroft came close, just another thing that made the boy so dear to him.
"I would rather you didn't."
He said finally taking his gaze off of John to study the carpeting for a beat.
"I would rather I did."
Sherlock's head snapped back up to meet John's stern eyes.
"Then you can't work the cases, it's as simple as that."
"Come on! You would do it!"
John declared jumping out of his chair and pointing an accusatory finger.
"That's not the point, these rules aren't for me, I'm not the one who was nearly strangled to death! I'm clever enough to out smart these people, you're just a kid."
Sherlock hissed at the boy pinning him with a piercing glare. John stared at the detective and just gaped for what felt like a century.
"So that's it. I'm not allowed because I'm too dumb to do it right?"
John said and gave a humorless laugh that made something in the pit of the taller man's stomach twist painfully.
"That's not what I said."
Sherlock stammered as he stood himself up to move closer to the blonde who backed away quickly.
"No? That's sure as hell what it sounded like. You think I'm too stupid to help you, just like everyone else. This was all some big sham wasn't it? You just wanted to convince me I didn't want to help you. Is that why the last rule is no girls at the flat? You just wanted to tell me no without the fight, is that it?"
Sherlock reached out his hand hoping desperately to just get hold of John, any of John, anything to just make him stay and understand. The boy jerks away from the touch and glared at the detective dangerously.
"That wasn't my intension at all. Like I said before the rules were created to keep you safe while helping me. The girl rule was there for a similar reason, I'm sure the last thing you would want is for some criminal to see one of your many 'friends' and assume them important, possibly hurt or kill them? And you should know better than to think I see you as boring as the rest of the people out there. I was simply stating a fact, you're not as smart or nearly as experienced as me. You won't have the slightest clue as to what would be the correct course of action. You would act on instinct, and acting off feelings is what gets people killed, I should know, I solve their murders!"
The detective was shouting loud enough by the end that he was worried Mrs. Hudson might come up to check in on them. John shook his head defiantly and continued to back away from his distressed flat mate.
"Just stop. I don't need you to lie to me, you want me off the case, I'm gone."
John turned and began making his way up the stairs angrily. Sherlock followed him after a beat with quick frantic movements.
"I would never lie to you! Please, John, listen, you can have the girls if you want. Take as many home as you want just talk to me. You're upset, I've done something bad, just let's talk about this!"
Sherlock pleads as the boy begins climbing the stairs to his room. The detective is clambering up behind him when John slams the door viciously.
"John!"
No answer. The detective crumpled onto the steps not sure if he'd be able to move if he wanted to. He'd ruined it, ruined everything. John would hate him now, just like everyone else. The thought alone felt like a knife to his gut. All he'd wanted was to make John safe while still ridding himself of all those stupid girls. Now he'd lost John.
In a fit of self pity and pride he collected himself off the steps and made his way to the front door. Emotions would have to wait he chided himself. Right now he was on a case, and he needed to focus.