Runaway Home

Chp 18

"John, I want you to come home with me."

No. Nope. Nine. Aucon. Hindi. Jo. Nie. Ingen. It didn't matter what language you said it in, the answer was a resounding no as far as the detective was concerned. His hands tightened into fists and he desperately tried to reign in his emotions. This…woman was trying to take John away from him. He had feared John leaving before, but as a far off prospect, something to happen over months, that he would leave because of school, or even farther off in the future for some potential bride. They were thoughts that troubled him, but they were distant. This was immensely different, this was in his face, it was now, it was too sudden. He wasn't ready, his mind was racing almost as fast as his heart and he could barely keep his breathing under control. Every molecule of his being was concentrated on two sole purposes. One, to keep himself under control, and two, to hear every part of John's answer no matter how painful it might be. If he was about to go he would need to know why, he would have to rationalize some reason that would make it sting less. Some sort of explanation that would make the new found emptiness in the flat less noticeable.

John gently pulled himself away from his mother and Sherlock's hearing sharpened accordingly. He watched the boy with invested interest and guarded himself for the inevitable. How could John say no to his mother? It was his mother! John was a person of sentiment; he would want to please his mother. He wouldn't care what it did to Sherlock; Sherlock was just his eccentric flat mate, not a blood relative who gave him proper care and attention. Except that wasn't true was it? A flare of anger flickered in the detective's stomach. This woman had let that man hurt John. He had seen the scars; he had cataloged everyone in the hopes that he may one day do the same to the person who had put them there. Now that man was dead and the thought both pleased and upset him. His death was deserved, but it meant he would never exact his own revenge, and it had brought the woman here.

John's mother was looking expectantly at the boy and the tenseness of the situation was palpable. John's gaze shifted from his mother to Sherlock for the briefest of seconds and the detective was almost certain he let out the faintest of gasps. This, he realized, could very well be one of the last times he looked into those deep blue eyes. The thought was terrifying and far too real. John returned his attentions back onto his mother and gave a weak but heart felt smile.

"I know. I know you do, and I want to. I want to go back to our house and forget all the bad things that have happened there and for us to make new pleasant memories. I want us to talk, and to be close. I would love for us to move past what we've been through, what he put us through…"

No, no, no. It was happening and the detective could feel his knees going weak. He might collapse by the time the boy was done talking if he wasn't careful. Sherlock did his best to keep his emotions from boiling over but it was growing increasingly difficult.

"I want that, but it will never happen. Nothing could ever make those memories go away for me, mum. Please understand; the reason I can't go back with you is very similar to the reason I left. That house holds nothing but pain for me. What dad did…it's not something I can just bury in the past. It's something that continues to affect me, dead or not dad will be present everyday of my life. In that house though, it's amplified. I couldn't go a single day with out the lingering fears for what nighttime had meant there. Mom…there's nothing there but bad. You can't hope to start anything good out of something so corrupt."

John said sternly but with his unique way of sounding so confident and comforting at the same time. Sherlock nearly fainted with relief, John was staying!

"We could move! We could go away from there; they just built a real nice apartment complex in town. It's just outside of Mike's neighborhood. He's missed you, Sarah's missed you. Sometimes I think they miss you just as much as I have. You have to come back home love, we're your family. Please don't do this to me, my heart can't take it. I can't loose your father and you…I just can't."

The woman cried reaching forward to entangle John in her shaky arms once more. Sherlock had to suppress a growl. This woman was ruining everything, why couldn't she just leave! John stepped out of her embrace after a minute and looked her in the eye.

"You are my family, and you always will be, but you are not my home. I don't like upsetting you, you're my mother and I really hate to see you like this. I'm sorry I've worried you and my friends, but I needed to worry about myself for once. Don't you see that? I was running for my life. Dad stabbed me mum, he stabbed me. He didn't just knock me into a piece of furniture or give me a punch to the gut, he stabbed me. That's why I had to leave, because I didn't know how bad it was going to get, I didn't know if I'd be able to patch it up the next time."

John spouted intensely and when he finished Sherlock let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Stabbed? That would explain the larger scar on his right bicep. The thought enraged the detective so thoroughly that he didn't even have the time to revel in the fact John was resolute in staying with him.

"Sweety…I know things were never perfect, but we were your home. We loved you, cared for you. Your father had a nasty temper, and a tendency to drink but he was a good man. He loved you, and he provided for you. When you left…it destroyed him!"

The detective's resolve was waning fast, this woman needed to go. John looked deeply hurt by her words and was edging backwards seemingly to find perches against the wall once again.

"Good men don't beat their children! No matter what the circumstances, and good mothers don't let them! How dare you come here and accuse him of anything you pathetic excuse of a person! You have the audacity to talk to him like that when you stood idly by as your drunkard husband left him bruised and bloodied! He should have left sooner; he should have been taken away! You don't deserve him; you don't even deserve to breathe the same air as him."

John's pained expression had been the last straw it seemed as all of the detective's anger was spewing forth and washing over the woman abrasively. She looked shocked and terrified by Sherlock's declaration. There was a pause, as if everyone in the room froze in place so they could fully grasp what had just happened. Even Sherlock was finding himself perturbed by his sudden outburst. After what could have been hours John's mother finally spoke up.

"John…is that…is that how you feel?"

Her eyes were wide and every bit as expressive as her son's. For a moment all John could do was blink as he processed what had just happened.

"No…I…you're my mum…I just…that was a bit harsh…"

The boy stammered as he cast his gaze down at his feet. In an act that both surprised and confused the detective John's mother moved forward to place a soft kiss on the boy's forehead.

"Be honest with me, I have been with you. I loved my husband, and I loved my children, I still do…I may not have always done right by the three of you, but I like to think I tried. Tell me what you're thinking."

She muttered quietly to her son as she patted down the hair on the top of his head.

"I love you too…but if you want honesty…mum I want to stay here, with Sherlock. I have a home here, I have a future here. I'm in a good vocational school; I'm graduating in a couple of weeks with a 3.8 average. I've already been accepted to King's College here in London and I intend to stay at Baker Street while I attend. Mum, the honest to god truth is I've never been happier then I am now…if you really love me, you'll let me stay."

Silence fell over the group once more as the boy finished. Sherlock felt a growing swell in his chest and an increasing desire to swoop down and kiss the boy. He wanted to stay! He wanted to stay with Sherlock! It was more than he could have hoped for, the once horrifying situation was now something he would treasure for the entirety of his life. John's mother was tearing up again and the detective listened closely so as not to miss what the idiotic woman was about to say.

"I wish you felt differently John, I…I really do. You're an adult now though and I can't make your mind up for you. If you want to live with this…man, that is your decision. I don't approve, but I guess that doesn't really matter. Just…don't disappear again. Call me, write me, do something so I know what's happening. I deserve that much at least don't I?"

John's mother said quietly but with a thinly masked layer of disdain the detective wasn't sure John picked up on. The boy nodded vigorously and stepped closer to the woman with his arms open to embrace her once more. His mother declined hastily by lifting one arm up to signal the touch was not welcomed. John's features deflated as he stepped away from the woman. Sherlock had half a mind to reach out and strike her, but some how it seemed inappropriate given the previous conversation.

"I'll show myself out."

She said curtly before quickly exiting the flat and shutting the door loudly behind herself. The detective looked over to the boy who was clearly on verge of some emotional outburst. John began walking to the stairs that led to his bedroom and something in Sherlock's mind clicked. He knew that this was important, this moment meant something. What he did here today would affect their friendship and potential relationship in a major way. He could remain the distant and mysterious detective that he'd come to be known as, or he could become something more, something human and attainable. With out any further thought on the matter he leapt forward to stop the boy from walking across the room. He held fast to John's wrist and the blonde stopped moving but did not turn to look at the man.

"John?"

John didn't answer, he just stood their draped in silence. Sherlock, in a sudden burst courage, tugged on the boy's arm forcefully so that he stumbled towards the detective in shock. Sherlock's spindly arms encircled him almost immediately and brought him flush against his chest. The motion was odd, unpracticed, and a surprise for both parties. It wasn't unwelcome though, they both benefited from the other's close proximity and comfort.

"Odd."
John finally huffed out after the hug dragged on for what was probably a span of ten minutes.

"What is?"

Sherlock asked trying to mask the fear bubbling up inside himself, he wasn't sure John wanted to be touched. He was always so adamant they do more to convince people they were not involved romantically, perhaps that extended to behind closed doors as well.

"Well, we're hugging…and neither of us has been shot or nearly killed in some way. Guess I'm just not used to it is all."

The boy said in a weakly amused tone. He was trying to ease the tension and seriousness from the room as he so often did. Sherlock could easily allow him to render this moment as a mere side affect from the stressful events they'd just experienced, but that didn't seem right. This had to mean something.

"It would have broken me."

He said quietly into the boy's hair.

"What?"
John questioned lightly and he froze as if every atom of his being was focused on what the detective said next.

"If you left with her, if you left Baker Street. It would have broken me."

For a long time there was nothing and Sherlock wondered if he'd said too much, then he felt John's arms tighten around him and his head burrow deeper into his chest before he whispered.

"Me too."

Note, I used Google translator for the other languages...so I have little to no idea if they're correct.