Runaway Home

Chp 15

I'd like to thank everyone for all the lovely reviews once more and apologize for the last chapter. I…wow…did not like it. Reviewed it today and realized that, so…sorry for that. Hope this one is better! By the way…this is so not cannon, but…yeah…I did it anyway.

John was no Sherlock Holmes, but he knew how to observe. Which is why after ten minutes of one of his better snogs he came to a disturbing realization, it was quiet. The whole flat was silent other than the sound of his and Valerie's bodies moving against each other on the bed. Part of him was glad; he rarely had a girl over without having to be interrupted by some loud crash or explosion coming from the kitchen. Another, more analytical part was worried. Sherlock should be making noise by now, he always does, more than likely just to get on the boy's nerves. He becomes so consumed with curiosity it soon causes adverse affects to his kissing.

With a deep internal sigh he explained to Valerie that he'd gotten a very bad headache, which she believes whole heartedly. As he escorted her out of the flat and into a cab he cursed himself for being so attached to the detective. He had had a girl in his room, a very affectionate girl, and now he was sending her away to look for his flat mate. Just as he was going to make his way back up to the flat to give a more thorough search he spotted Sherlock's phone shattered on the sidewalk just a few meters away. He ran towards the object and let out a gasp. There were two droplets of blood on the ground near by that any one other than the consulting detective's flat mate would have missed. He picked up the broken object and looked up at the CCTV camera pointed directly at him. Without a seconds hesitation he dove his hand into his pocket to retrieve his own phone. He'd switched it to silent when they'd gone in to see the show and so was not aware that the politician had called him three times in the past five minutes. With shaky hands he hit the call button and didn't even have to hear one full ring before Mycroft answered.

"He's been taken John, by the black lotus."

John stared with wide eyes at the broken phone in his hand and the blood on the ground. Black lotus? Great, it was just like Sherlock to get himself kidnapped by a gang.

"Is he going to be ok? do you have-"

"No, we lost him. They took him in a van, without his phone I can't track their movements. I've got a team of men working on breaking their cipher. Don't worry, we'll get him, just go back inside and stay put, lock the doors. Chances are they've taken him either because of his actions tonight or for information on their missing jade pin, either way we cannot ignore the possibility of them taking you as a means of manipulating my brother."

John was certain his heart stopped, this couldn't be happening. These people were murderers and now they had his best mate. With a sudden rush of clarity Mycroft's words finally settled in and the boy felt his proverbial light bulb light up.

"I know where he is."
"John don't-"

The blonde didn't wait for the politician to finish, there wasn't any time. He pocketed both phones and turned back to the road. It took a frustratingly long time for him to finally catch a cab and once he did he was near frantic. There was no way he could be certain, but something in his gut told him that it was the only place that made any sense.

The abandoned tramway tunnel. That's where they had said to take the stolen merchandise, the jade pin, in their cipher. Truthfully John knew it had been petty not to tell Sherlock he'd figured it out, but he felt like being a prick for a while. When he'd seen the stacks of books and the two translated words his interest was undoubtedly peaked. Then he'd spotted in the stacks of books still remaining in the bins, a copy of 'London a-z'. It struck him instantly; it was an odd book for two blokes residing in the city to own, but not for somebody new to it, not for a boy who was running away to the city from a small town. He knew that book practically cover to cover, he'd read it every night for practically a month before he'd taken the train in. Once he confirmed that he was right he completed the cipher for himself, vowing to only tell Sherlock if more lives were at risk, or if he allowed him back on the case. He cursed himself for being so childish; they might not be here now if he'd just given the detective his translation.

The cab came to a rough stop at the side of the road; John could see the tramway entrance clearly just a few yards away. He paid the cabby and started running towards it until he skidded to an abrupt stop. Suddenly it dawned on him that he had absolutely no weapon and no plan. He considered turning back around to go get Lestrade and some yarders, but it was late and that would take time. He could call Mycroft but again that would take time. Time he wasn't sure the detective had. He would have to act fast, possibly sneak in and rescue the man without being noticed…not highly likely, but he didn't have much choice.

He rushed to the entrance of the tramway tunnel and heard the echo of the safety being taken off a gun. His heart began pounding in his chest. He could hear the detective talking to a woman, from the sounds of it the same one from the show earlier. The boy edged closer so he could just barely see the woman holding a gun to Sherlock's temple, his breath caught in his throat. They were talking and John thought for a moment that the great detective might be able to weasel his way out of this.

"Too bad."

The words struck John almost violently. He watched as the gun was pressed into the man's head and John could not contain himself any longer.

"Stop!"

"Who said that?"

He froze for a moment. This was a gang, he had no weapon, and his friend had a gun to his head. Adrenalin began pumping through his system immediately and he felt an over whelming sense of calm. He should be scared, frantic, panicking, but instead he was incredibly focused. He'd worry about his oddness later though; right now he was more relieved they'd taken the gun off of Sherlock.

"I'm John Watson and I'm here to save my flat mate!"

He called out boldly. Not the line of legend or anything, but it's the first thing that came to mind.

"John get out of here! You're outnumbered!"

Sherlock shouted hysterically and it made John want to run out and hold the man, reassure him somehow. That's not an option though, if he ram out now he'd be shot. He'd gotten himself backed into a wall and his options seemed very limited. Quickly he came to a decision that he was not so sure the detective would agree with but it seemed to be the better option at that point.

"Don't be blarmy, I called D.I. Lestrade, they've got the place surrounded."

He yelled hoping that it brought some peace of mind to the detective as well as accomplishing his ultimate goal. The woman exchanged looks with her two men and Sherlock relaxed just slightly. Some small part of John registers that they all believe him, he has successfully told his first convincing lie, congratulations could be made later though.

"If you have us surrounded by police like you say, then why do they send in a child?"

The woman answers gripping her gun tighter as her eyes search for John in the darkened tunnel.

"I'm unarmed and non-threatening; they just want you to send out the detective. There's no need for anyone to be hurt tonight."

John smirks to himself as the lie flows easily over his tongue, he'd never felt so alive.

"We send him out then we get arrested. I think we'll hold onto the detective until we're away from here."

The woman says motioning for the men to grab Sherlock and John had to cover his mouth to quiet the curse that escaped his lips.

"No! They will come after you for him, he's important to them. Leave him there and escape out the back, if you go quickly I won't tell them you're here, I'll say I found him alone while you escape."

The woman raised her hand and the men stopped, she was considering what John had to say and it made the boy hopeful once more.

"How do I know you're not lying? There could be people stationed at the back entrance as well. We are not so easily fooled boy."

John gritted his teeth and decided that smart criminals were his least favorite.

"Take me."

He shouted as the men moved towards the detective again. Sherlock's head snapped in John's direction.

"Don't be an idiot John!"

Sherlock practically growled but the boy ignored his protest.

"They need him; they'll chase you down for him. I'm just his flat mate, important enough they won't risk you hurting me, but not an integral part of their unit so you will have plenty of time to get wherever it is you're going."

He explained silently begging them to just agree. It was silent for a moment as the woman considered his offer.

"Come forward."

John frozes for a minute, unsure if it was the best idea, he couldn't be sure they'd fallen for this, it could be a trick. He could get shot.

"No! John stay right where you are, do you understand me? You are not going with them!"

Sherlock cries out desperately and it pulls at the boy's heart, but he knows what he has to do. Even if they do shoot him he has no choice, this is his best chance at getting Sherlock out alive. He slowly walked out into the open with his hands raised in surrender.

"No!"

The detective almost screamed as John came into view. The blonde hoped he could see just how sorry he was for having to ignore him. Sherlock just looked horribly distraught and was struggling earnestly against the ropes that bound him.

"Good boy. Now, no funny business. We will leave Mr. Homes here; maybe with you as incentive he will bring me back my property."

The woman says with a smirk and presses the gun's barrel against the back of John's head, he looked over to Sherlock and gave a smile to comfort the man but it looks weaker than he wanted it to and it only seemed to make the detective worse.

"Don't do this, stop, I can figure it out, give me time!"

Sherlock pleads as his eyes lock onto the gun.

"If we stay then your police friends will come in soon looking for the boy. I'm not going to take that chance."

She stated plainly pushing the gun harder into the base of the blonde's skull.

"Move."

She ordered and John felt compelled to comply.

"I'll find you John!"

The detective called out panicked.

"I know, I'll be waiting for you."

He calls back hoping to sound more confident than he felt. Because he'd gone from adrenaline rushed excitement to crushing reality now, and fear was starting to seep in. There was no guarantee how well he'd be treated, or if they were just bluffing all together, this could be his last night on earth. As they made their way down the tunnel he worried for his life and Sherlock's. His plan wasn't well thought through and he didn't know how long it would take for people to find the detective. He clenched his fists to prevent them from shaking as they grew closer to the exit. It was perfectly silent as the four made their way out to the clearing and he could practically hear the smug smile growing on the woman's face. Picking up the pace a bit they began rushing over to a black van parked near by.

Without warning the sound of loud sirens erupts, shattering the quiet that had once blanketed them. The four spin around to see five panda cars skidding to a halt in front of them. Officers began to pour out and position themselves behind car doors aiming their weapons at the group. The woman grabbed John violently pulling the boy against herself and moved the gun to the side of his face so the police men could clearly see it. John was well aware now that he had become a human shield in the middle of a shoot out, the shock of which almost overpowered his surprise to see the yard there.

"Lower your weapon!"

A gruff voice ordered and John realized that it belonged to Lestrade who happened to be at the front of the group with his finger wound tightly around his trigger. The woman's nails dug into John's side and he had to suppress a grunt.

"You said there would be no police back here."

She snarled and John couldn't think of anything to say because he had honestly believed there wouldn't be any police there.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time, lower your weapon."

The inspector growled tightening his grip on his gun.

"Or you will what? Shoot? Go ahead; you will kill the boy in the process."
The woman threatened pushing the gun further into John's temple. The inspector glared at the woman but made no further comment. A tense silence spread over the crowd as the officers tried to plan their next move. The boy could tell how this would end, Lestrade wouldn't risk his life to a fire fight, he was going to have to let them go. Letting them go meant John could be dead by morning, especially since the woman thought he'd lied to her. He decided that once again he'd have to lead with his gut and go for what seemed the best way out, though there was a chance he could still wind up dead. When he felt how tightly the woman's fingers gripped onto his side he knew it was his only chance of surviving the night.

In a feat John would describe in his later years as stupid, desperate, impossible, miraculous, barmy, and just a bit awesome, he shot his left hand up with lightening speed to grab the woman's wrist holding the gun. Not giving her the chance to react John rapidly twisted her wrist so that she cried out in shock and dropped the gun into John's other hand. The boy immediately backed away holding the gun up pointed at her face with steady hands. Her expression was priceless and something he would treasure for the rest of his life, part of him still wishes he could have seen the faces of all the officers when the boy managed to take the gun from a prominent gang leader.

"I think you can arrest them now inspector."

John said breathlessly as he stared down the furious older woman. Multiple officers were swarming the three gang members instantly and a large smile spread across his face. He almost jumped when he felt a large hand rest on his shoulder but then he looked up he realized it was Lestrade.

"Guess you're not as helpless as I thought."

The older man said with a disbelieving smirk which only made the smile on John's face even bigger. John lowered the gun and handed it over to the inspector proudly.

"Don't know how Sherlock will take this though."

He continued and John felt his face fall considerably. Sherlock was not going to be happy.

"Lestrade said I could make a good D.I. one day."

"Lestrade's an idiot; you'd be wasted as a D.I."

"You're still mad."

…

"I'm not mad."

Yeah, right. The detective had been actively ignoring the subject of John's half baked rescue since they'd untied him. While the boy wasn't looking forward to when Sherlock finally blew his top, he'd rather they'd just got it over with. For whatever reason Sherlock was going to avoid it for as long as possible though and it aggravated the blonde. This was probably the fourth time he'd tried to initiate the conversation and it fell flat just like all the other times. The detective was staring out his cab window with determination which only made it more annoying. John wished he'd just yell at him, scream at him, anything.

When the cab pulled into the bank Sherlock practically threw his money at the driver and bolted out of the taxi. With a deep sigh John followed behind quickening his pace so he could catch up with the detective inside the building. He wondered why Sherlock had even let him come along since he was clearly angry about John's involvement with this case, it worried him. Was it possible he'd done irrevocable damage to their friendship? He really hoped not, he'd only wanted to experience the same excitement and he couldn't not save his best mate. They took the escalator up to the next floor and walked at relatively the same pace towards Mr. Wilkes's office. When they came to a split in a hall way however the detective took the opposite route.

"Sherlock, where are you going?"

"Need to have a word with Vancoon's secretary."

The boy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before observing the man again.

"What about Mr. Wilkes?"

John asked with disgruntlement.

"You talk to him if you'd like, the money will help fund some of my more costly experiments."

Sherlock replied with growing disinterest.

"Yeah, and help pay for repairs when you're done."

The blonde scoffed but the detective didn't pay any attention to his mocking tone.

"Alright, this should only take a second; I'll meet you by the escalators, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded curtly before rushing down the hallway. John grimaced as he turned and made his way towards the banker's office. He was dreading the visit, even more now that Sherlock wouldn't be accompanying him. Mr. Wilkes had been cruel to the detective and therefore was not someone in his good books. The door was closed when he came upon it and part of him wanted to just turn back. He hadn't even been interested in the money; he just wanted Sherlock to talk to him. The boy knocked on the door hesitantly; it wouldn't due to back down now, he didn't have any real reason to do so anyway.

"How can I help you?"

Mr. Wilkes's slimey voice greeted John as the door swung open.

"Hey I'm here about-"

"You're Sherlock's little friend! I was waiting for this visit, come in!"

The banker insisted ushering the boy into his office. John followed behind him reluctantly hoping for the meeting to be over quick.

"So, how'd the bugger do it?"

Mr. Wilkes asked leaning against his desk.

"The windows, he snuck in through the windows. Put a bar across them and all your problems will be solved."

John explained briefly not wanting to go into detail about the matter.

"Well, not all of them…"

The man muttered as he pulled out his check book.

"What do you mean by that?"

The boy questioned not entirely sure what the banker was playing at.

"Well, it's no business of mine really, but I'm worried about you."

Mr. Wilkes clarified as he signed his name on the check.

"Excuse me?"
This bloke had to be out of his mind, why would he be worried about John?

"I know Sherlock, possibly better than you do, we went to uni together. Believe it or not I was one of his best mates there…he can be cruel and uncaring at times, am I right?"

Now John was really confused. He thought about snatching the check and just dashing out the door, but his curiosity won out. In the end he knew he just had to here what this bloke was trying to say.

"I wouldn't really say cruel, he just doesn't always get social graces. He's insensitive, sure, but that's just in his nature. He's still a good man."

The boy said defensively, it was easy for people to get the wrong idea about the detective so he'd learned the best ways to explain his behavior to people.

"You are very loyal aren't you? It's sweet, really it is, but have some self preservation! He's got to be demanding…what does he pay you?"

What does he pay him? Was he offering him a job or something? This was all very odd and the boy did not like it one bit. He shuffled backwards a bit and held out his hand to receive the check not wanting to continue the discussion.

"He is who he is. As for pay I don't worry about that much as I find it just as enjoyable as he does; besides I don't have to pay for the flat."

John replied with a smug grin, feeling that he'd put the man in his place. His confidence faltered however when he took in Mr. Wilkes's predatory smile.

"That's all? Come now, surely you know you can do better."

The older man said with a chuckle and pushed himself off the desk. John had the strong urge to back away as the banker drew closer.

"Better? I'd say that's a pretty good deal considering how expensive flats can be."

The boy stammered under Mr. Wilkes's ravenous stare.

"Don't play coy, you know its table scraps compared to what some boys fetch. Especially ones in your condition, you look to be in perfect health."

Now John was completely lost and no longer had any desire to collect the money, he just needed to go. He moved to make his way to the door but the banker grabbed his arms and turned him around so that he ended up with his backside pressed against the man's desk. Mr. Wilkes smiled down at him hungrily as he did his best to wiggle his way out of the man's grasp.

"Let go!"

The boy snarled up at the man, refusing to let any panic show in his voice.

"Come now, you don't expect me to make a purchase without inspecting the product do you?"

He growled moving a possessive hand across John's chest. The boy suppressed a whimper and brought his hand up to push the man off himself. Mr. Wilkes only grew more insistent at the protest and shoved the boy down on to the desk. The banker acted like a man possessed climbing on top of John and placing several rough kisses on his lips and neck.

"Stop, get off me!"

John shouted praying that if he didn't listen at least someone would hear him and get help. The boy thrashed beneath the banker, rolling his hips up to knock the man off the desk. Mr. Wilkes did not move an inch but instead moaned deeply.

"You're a fighter, that's good. I'll pay you handsomely for repeats of this performance."

Despite himself John couldn't help but feel another wave of anger; it seemed the trend of people in London thinking he's a rent boy hadn't gone away. He did his best to free his hands that had been pinned at the wrist above his head by one of Mr. Wilkes's surprisingly strong grip.

"Mmm, perhaps a free sample is in order."

The banker's free hand roamed down the boy's chest and over the expanse of his quivering stomach until it reached the button of his jeans.

"No! Sherlock!"

John yelled bucking his hips in a feeble attempt to remove the man's prying hand. His breathing became erratic as the button popped and the zipper was being pulled down soon after.

"Help!"

The boy almost sobbed as Mr. Wilkes began biting his neck. He shut his eyes tight and tried to think about something else, anything else, anything that wasn't that man's vile tongue sliding across his skin. For a moment he thought it'd worked, that the thoughts had freed him from the sensations, that he could ignore what was happening completely. His illusion was shattered however when he felt two strong hands cupping his cheeks. At first he'd flinched away from the touch and squeezed his eyes even tighter, but there was something so inviting about the touch that made him crack open his eyes to see who the hands belonged to.

"John?"

Sherlock's voice rang out with an almost angelic quality. There was concern and anger in his voice, but that didn't matter at the time, the only thing that mattered was that it was Sherlock and most definitely not Mr. Wilkes.

"Sherlock!"

The boy cried out and sprung forward to embrace his flat mate with earnest.

"Oh god, I didn't think you'd come! Mr. Wilkes he-he-"

"I know. I heard you yell down the hall. I saw him…are you ok?"

All the anger in his voice drained away as he searched John's eyes for the answers. John nodded but it must not have seemed convincing as the worry only deepened in the man's eyes. Sherlock pulled John into a tighter hug, cradling the boy's head against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry; I should have been here sooner."

The detective continued with a wavering voice.

"I-I'm fine now…guess that knife would have come in handy, huh?"

John said quietly. He was stubborn and hated to admit defeat, but Sherlock had been right about a few things in his list, and if they were ever going to get past this there was going to have to be a compromise. Besides, it was true, that knife really would have come in handy.

"I suppose it would have. I'm not really concerned about that right now though. I'm more worried about you…as far as I can tell you haven't received any physical damage."

The detective said as his fingers ghosted over John's face, pausing at his bruised lips and nearly vibrating with rage above his abused neck.

"It's ok Sherlock, you stopped it, I'm just happy it's done ok?"

John explained softly hoping to calm the man down.

"No, it's not ok! This is not ok, offering yourself up to a gang is not ok, almost being killed by a cabbie is not ok! You don't care what happens to you, do you? You're just looking for a rush!"

Sherlock rants and part of John is relieved that this talk is finally taking place, while another part feels far too frayed to participate.

"I didn't do this. He did."

John stated flatly, sincerely hoping the detective hadn't meant that one.

"I know…I know…but there are more of him out there you know. Every time you work a case with me there is a risk of meeting some very unsavory people, of being in life threatening situations. Is that what you want?"

The brunette inquired with an amount of emotion that was uncommon for the man.

"If you're asking about whether I plan on getting myself killed the answer is no, I do like the danger though…you know I didn't save you last night for some adrenalin high, right? I did it to save you, because that's what mates do."

John responded softly placing a comforting hand on the detective's shoulder.

"Yes, some part of me registered that…we should go. Mycroft's men will be here soon to collect him."

John followed the detective's gaze towards the unconscious man lying in the corner of the room with multiple forming bruises on his face.

"Ok, are we good though? I don't want you mad at me anymore. I know I upset you by showing up last night but I couldn't stay away, I-"

"I know. It's in your nature, I had been foolish to think I could keep you under lock and key like that. I realize now that you will be tagging along whether I like it or not and that you do possess a multitude of abilities. I'm not angry so much as wary…I'd really like it if maybe we both made some rules together…"

Sherlock expounded.

"I would like that very much."

John said with a smile that the detective reciprocated and with that the two of them left the banker's office.

"Did you find the pin?"

John asked idly as the two of them finally managed to flag down a crab.

"Yes."

"You don't seem too happy about that."

"They killed her."

"Excuse me, what? The secretary?"

"No, do keep up, the leader. She was shot by a sniper last night while in lock up, no confession."

John glared out the window as he processed the information; it was a lot to take in. After another few moments in silence he turned to the detective again.

"Are we going to look into that?"

He questioned and Sherlock looked at him dismissively.

"No, probably just someone higher up than her on the food chain, not our area."

He explained and John went back to looking out his window. He could still practically feel the man's touch, his tongue, his teeth; it was enough to make him vomit. His body shivered from the fresh memories which Sherlock picked up on or so John assumed when the detective edged closer to wrap his large hand around John's. The boy shut his eyes and focused on the feel of Sherlock's hand, and the possibilities of the countless adventures they would share.