Runaway Home

Chp 19

Thanks once again for all the lovely reviews and for everybody actually enjoying this. Oh, and for everybody who has commented on it, I'm not sure if I will be covering season 2. I just don't know if it will fit…nothing is set in stone though, if I find that it works well then I will.

Summer came and went in the blink of an eye and by the end of it John was left feeling impressed with how much he and his flat mate had accomplished. They'd successfully side stepped his mother in a number of ways. First was the most obvious in which they affectively convinced her not to try and physically drag John back to their home town. The second was that after a few phone calls that had left John feeling particularly moody Sherlock developed a new means in which to keep his mother informed without having to hold up stressfully long phone conversations. John's blog was up in running within thirty minutes of the detective's suggestion and the boy dutifully filled his mother (and a better portion of his home town) in on all that had happened to him since he left for London and updated at least once a week to keep them up to speed.

They had also solved a few rather vicious homicides, though, not all of them went smoothly. Not that anything at Baker Street ever went smoothly in the traditional sense, but one case in particular had shaken things up a bit. There had been a string of murders in which the killer's victims had been teenaged boys. Their murders were brutal and looking at the corpses had brought him close to vomiting (Which was saying something considering the bodies the eighteen year old had seen in the past two years). What was odd wasn't John's reaction however but Sherlock's. The detective's normally distant and cold demeanor towards the victims was shattered when they'd come across the third victim. The boy hadn't been with him at the time as he had spent the better part of the day convincing his mate Ethan that breaking up with his girlfriend was not the end of his life. So it seemed that when the detective reached the crime scene three facts stuck out in his mind with painful clarity. One, this boy was blonde. Two, this boy was a shorter than average eighteen year old male. Three, the boy's face was rendered unrecognizable. Then there was only panic. Sherlock had come barging into the flat only moments after John had arrived. Needless to say he was surprised by the emotional greeting he received.

The case wasn't so much as important as what the case had helped him to realize. Sherlock Holmes did most certainly care about him, and it only made John love him more. When the man had defended him and comforted him during the surprise visit from his mother fiasco, he had begun to notice, but the case is really what let in sink in. His attempts to find a girlfriend were seemingly useless; no matter what he did he just grew more and more in love with the detective. It was frustrating to say the least. Sherlock's love for him was most likely the sort one would have for a younger brother, but even if it wasn't there was one thing he new for certain, it was platonic. The detective had made it clear early on about his opinions on sex and John had never forgotten. None the less the brunette reminded him almost daily, not in so many words of course, but John knew the signs. Sherlock was a straight forward bloke and wouldn't be hindered by social niceties, if he wanted John he would tell him.

John couldn't even manage girlfriends anymore. He wanted to, he desperately longed to. He just couldn't. It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to girls; on the contrary, he found them very nice. The problem wasn't the girls, it was his flat mate. Every time he'd get alone with a girl all he could think about was doing the same things with Sherlock. It was a horrible sort of self inflicted torture that caused him constant pain. He didn't like to be away from the detective either, so dates became few and far between for those two reasons. It was driving the boy insane. He'd been so intent on blokes being blokes, so concentrated on being the heterosexual male he'd always seen himself as, and it was all coming to pieces. All because of some stupid hug. Now all he could think about was that hug, imagine other hugs and other…things. He made excuses to touch the man and his indulgence really only made things worse, but he was far past being able to help himself.

Lucky for the boy university came quick. He was in fact impressed with all he and his flat mate had accomplished but at the same time there was (and always would be he imagined) regret. He regretted that he would probably never get that summer back, when Sherlock had had two separate occasions of being so open with him. He would never have another chance to have explored that openness and possibly opened himself up as well. There was shame in that though. John wanted to tell the detective how he felt, but he worried what it would do to their friendship. It's not as though he expected Sherlock to change who he was for the boy so the knowledge would likely only complicate matters. All those thoughts that had troubled him over the summer became smaller when he had school to worry about. He could focus his thoughts on books, papers, rugby matches, and social outings.

Yes, despite his reluctance he had decided it would be best to hang out with people other than Sherlock. He needed some distance, and maybe by some off chance he'd meet someone more attainable. Hopefully someone female. The boy was successful of course in finding a new gaggle of friends to hang around with on campus and exchange notes and gossip with. In a matter of weeks he'd already formed a sort of circle of friends, not that he didn't talk to anyone outside of it, John was a friendly bloke and welcomed conversation from anybody. The boy didn't find he had the chance much though, between his new group of friends and Sherlock he didn't see much of anybody else.

One mate from his new onslaught of uni friends was named Bill Murray and he was beginning to become a rather good friend. Good enough in fact that after a month or so at school he invited him over for dinner. The concept was completely new to the boy and it made him a bit anxious. In his home town he didn't have to worry about such things, he already knew everybody's parents, grandparents, cousins, second cousins…it was a small town. So this was something unknown and it put him a bit on edge. Of course Sherlock didn't help, merely commented on how if he was nervous he should just cancel. A typical answer, the man was always trying to get him to cancel his plans. He pressed on though, and eventually he found himself at Bill's door step, just moments away from meeting his family.

"John!"
Bill shouted as he swung the door open and dragged the unsuspecting blonde inside.

"Hi Bill."

John managed as he was shoved out of the way of the shutting door.

"I apologize in advance John, really I do. I don't know what I was thinking inviting you over to this insane asylum."

Bill whispered harshly as his eyes shifted around the room suspiciously as if he were on the look out for something. John looked around the room but didn't see anything so he returned his attentions to his distressed friend.

"I'm sure they're fine. I live with the craziest man in London remember? You've personally witnessed him harpoon that dead pig in our biology class to get me to come home."

John pointed out in a steady voice hoping that his calm demeanor would put his friend at ease.

"Yeah, well that's beyond crazy, it's so crazy it's just funny. My family is the kind of crazy that makes you want to pull your hair out."

Bill said with a huff.

"Why did you invite me over in the first place then? Not that I don't want to be here, but clearly you're put off by this whole thing."

John questioned as he was beginning to become legitimately confused.

"It wasn't my idea, it was my dad's. He insisted. He's obsessed with meeting all my friends, he always has been. I had to fight him to make it just you, he wanted everyone over."

Bill fumed and crossed his arms angrily.

"Wow, I can't imagine having all the gang over here...oh well, it's just me. I don't scare easy so don't sweat it."

John said and gave the curly haired boy a pat on the shoulder. Just then a tall tanned man walked into the room with a friendly wave and a large smile. He looked nothing like Bill, but then he did recall the boy saying something about being adopted at some point.

"Hello, you must be John, my name is David. I'm Bill's father."

The man extended his hand and John shook it firmly.

"Good to meet you sir, I'm glad to be here. It's awful nice of you to open up your home to me and I do appreciate it."

John said with a big smile. Bill's father seemed pleased by John's attitude and returned the smile with one equally as big.

"Let's go to the dining room, shall we? My husband should be done with dinner any second now."

Husband? Now that was something he knew he'd never heard Bill mention before. He looked back at Bill who's face had turned several shades darker and had a look of nervous embarrassment. It was as though he'd simply forgotten to mention it and found the slip up rather mortifying and now that it was out there he was afraid what John would think. John offered him a quick smile and a simple nod to signify he didn't care and it seemed to give Bill some comfort as he did smile back. John turned his attention to the house they were walking through as the three made their way to the dining room. The house was huge, or at least the biggest he'd ever been in. He wondered what it must have been like to grow up in such a place as a kid. It made him wonder if Sherlock grew up in a place like this. He knew the detective came from money, it was entirely possible. As they entered a room with two large decorative doors he noticed immediately this was the dining room they'd been referring too. There was a large crystal chandelier and the table looked as though it could serve his entire anatomy class. It was no wonder they'd offered to serve dinner to all of Bill's friends! There were four places set and John took the one next to Bill and sent him a look of wonderment which the boy shrugged off. He was used to it apparently.

"This place is lovely."

John blurted out as he observed the intricate moldings on the walls. David nodded appreciatively taking a look about the room himself.

"Yes, it really is. William inherited it from his grandmother a year or two before Bill's adoption was completed. Perfect timing really…well…not the whole grandmother dying bit, but…you know, the house."

David stammered and ended his ramblings with a nervous cough. Bill rolled his eyes but said nothing, John simply smiled. David seemed like a nice bloke, not crazy at all. Then William walked, or rather, strutted in.

"Hello! Oh my, he's cute isn't he? God I could eat him right up! Oh sugar-bear, you need to bring friends over more often!"

William proclaimed in a sing song voice that was probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. John stared at the man with unblinking curiosity and a smile of amused disbelief planted firmly on his face. Bill on the other hand looked ready to grab his dinner knife as stab the man, or himself, which ever was quickest judging by the tick in his eye. David seemed quietly amused by the whole situation and offered his son an apologetic smile that was either out right ignored or not noticed. John seemed far more entranced by William's balancing act with the fancy china serving dishes that matched the dishes on the table then the other two. William set each one down quickly an efficiently in an elegant and organized fashion.

"So, John (it is John, right?), we've heard an awful lot about you and the rest of those young things, but Billy boy left out all the juicy details. Anything interesting you'd like to tell us about yourself now that we have you all to ourselves."

William asked as he spun into his chair in an overly dramatic fashion. Bill had a knuckle white grip on the table and was audibly grinding his teeth which really only made everything funnier for John. Bill had said crazy but so far from what he could tell William was just flamboyant. He was wearing a flashy outfit that matched his personality to a T. His smile was bright and wide but in no way out weighed the excitement behind his green eyes.

"I, well I'm not sure what he's told you."

John stated dumbly as he tried to regain focus on the conversation and not the several gaudy rings on the man's hands.

"Oh, just the boring stuff. You're a medical student who plays rugby who apparently has a way with the ladies. I was hoping you could offer up a little more."

William said with a flourish and began taking the lids off the serving dishes revealing a very familiar scent of Thai food.

"That's not boring William, don't insult the lad."

David cut in with a stern but forgiving voice as he began to serve himself.

"I wasn't insulting him. Those are impressive to be sure, but they're boring. Tell me something original and edgy."

William replied vehemently as he stole the large spoon away from David to serve himself.

"Not everyone's life is a soap opera dad."

Bill spit out as he slammed a spoon full of the Thai food on his plate, the resulting splat caused all three of the people at the table to flinch. William sat up straighter and sniffed.

"Let's remain civil tonight."

David stated calmly. John served himself the very delicious but extremely well known portion of what he knew to be cashew chicken, one of his favorites.

"John?"

William's voice rang out as an invitation for the boy to speak up. John decided it was best he did considering the looks Bill and his dad were exchanging. Some sort of silent war seemed to be waging on and it was probably best to distract them.

"Well I…I like to think I'm a rather good writer…I have a blog that's fairly popular, although it's mostly my friends that read."

John admitted not knowing what else to say.

"Oh, a blog! How lovely, what do you write about dear? Love? Passion? Romance? Drama? Please regale me with your tales of adolescence and all its glory. I'm sure there is a lengthy portion about how many girls you have seduced judging on how badly Bill envies you. Which is ridiculous really, he's a gorgeous boy and has had plenty of dates, you've shown him decadence and he likes it! Well…like father like son."

William shouts theatrically and ends with a wink towards David. Bill makes a gagging noise and has a deep blush splashed across his cheeks. John coughs politely before continuing.

"Nothing like that sir. In fact while the blog is supposed to be a way for my mom to check in on me. The main focus of it tends to be on my flat mate Sherlock though."

John said before shoveling a fork full of chicken into his mouth. William lit up instantly and practically slammed his hands on the table.

"Flat mate eh? Perhaps I should look into this blog, sounds like a bit of writing I might enjoy."

The man said in a low suggestive voice that caused John to nearly choke on his food.

"It's not like that dad, just because two mates live together doesn't mean they're shagging! God, you're such an embarrassment. They solve crimes together, Sherlock is a consulting detective."

Bill spewed shaking his fork at William accusingly.

"Bill."

David called out tightly; Bill flung himself back in his chair with a huff and turned his head so he was facing the opposite side of the dining hall.

"Well that's just fine; I enjoy a good mystery as well as the next fellow. Please John; do tell us about one of these crime stories."

William said a little quieter, as though some sort of unspoken apology to his enraged son. John took a moment to drink some of his water to recover from the tug-of-war match he'd just had with a piece of chicken. After doing so he went into exquisite detail on the case of the aluminum crutch that everyone seemed to like so much. Judging by how intently William and David watched him he figured he'd done a good job of retelling it. When he finished William clapped loudly which resulted in a sneer from Bill.

"Wonderfully told dear! Have you ever considered a career in acting? I myself started training around seven but it's never too late to get into the field."

The man said enthusiastically which brought a humble blush to the boy's cheeks.

"Thank you, but writing is more of a pass time for me now. My real passion is for helping people."

John explained but William gave a great sigh that seemed to say he was extremely put out by the prospect.

"If this hobby of yours is anything to go by I'd say action is more what you're into. Have you ever considered a career in the military? I myself have several relatives who've served, you seem like the type."

David pitched in as he served himself a second helping of the Thai.

"I have, but if I do it'd be as a doctor, no use in wasting a perfectly good scholarship. Besides, I'm sure I could do some real good as one."
John mused as he took another bite.

"I'm sure you would, you're handsome enough to pull off that uniform too. I wonder what would become of your friend though, you two sound close."

William commented as he pushed his plate away from himself but kept his eyes pinned on John.

"I…don't know. I guess he'd just go back to the way he used to do things before I came along. He'd been doing this a long time before he got stuck with me, when I first moved in I wasn't even allowed to help, so it's not like I'm a vital part or anything."

The boy answered simply. It was the truth, Sherlock normally only needed him there to run menial errands and tell the detective how brilliant he is, he would handle cases just fine if the boy went away.

"I didn't mean for the detective stuff love, I mean who would keep him company? He doesn't sound the type to have many friends. He might be a genius and therefore in no real need of your assistance, but one can't simply go from being alone to having such a wonderful friend and then back again. I'm sure your departure would cause him a great deal of stress."

William declared poignantly. John wasn't sure what to say, he hadn't really thought about it. It was true John was probably the only one Sherlock considered a friend, but would his absence upset him so much? There were times when the man didn't realize he'd even left the house; it seemed entirely plausible for him to go a year or so with out noticing.

"I can see it now!"

William shouted standing from the table in a flash.

"No!"

Bill hollered covering his eyes in embarrassment.

"You're about to be shipped out, you're lining up with all the men!"
He pulls a reluctant David from his chair and straightens him out. David gives a small huff of amusement and plays along.

"Sherlock, in a dramatic last minute realization has come to the conclusion that he is madly, irrevocably, and hopelessly in love with you! He has done so while in a sulk back at the flat; he notices the time and rushes out the door."

Obviously taking on the role of Sherlock William skirts about the room as if winding his way through the streets of London.

"Finally he gets there, and for a moment he thinks it's too late, that he's lost you! But whoa and behold it's you! He sees you amongst your comrades preparing to leave for war!"

William acts as though he's spying John (David) out from behind a wired fence of sorts and then begins an overly dramatized slow motion sort of jog towards the man.

"John! He calls out in a panic. You turn to see him heading towards you, breaking through the lines and ignoring the orders of your commanding officers. He cannot be stopped!"

David does his part by turning to look at William in mock shock as the actor slowly approaches.

"Finally he reaches you and there's a moment where you don't hear a single word of what the people around you are saying, all you can process is the man in front of you, chest heaving and eyes filled with desire!"

Bill lets out a groan and David shoots him an apologetic smile. William grabs a hold of David suddenly and takes advantage of his slightly taller status to swoop the man down and stare into his eyes.

"John, he says, I couldn't let you go, not like this. It took your deployment for me to realize what you meant to me! I can't survive without you knowing John! I, Sherlock Holmes, love you more than any murder case! I want to marry you John! I want us to solve crime together always! I want us to grow old together! JOHN! I want to have your children!"

If John wasn't red before, he sure as hell was now. The over dramatic and highly out of character speech wasn't as embarrassing as the realization that it was probably a corny version of something he fantasized about often. Then, it only got worse. William finished his act by capturing his husband's mouth with a passionate snog that left the boy's mouth dry. Bill was dying of humiliation, but John was transfixed. The thought of Sherlock kissing him in such a manner was very appealing. When the two finished David took his seat and looked at the two boys remorsefully, especially Bill.

"An epic romance to be sure."

William proclaimed taking his seat once more. John could do nothing but stare, that performance had taken him off guard to say the least. Bill must have picked up on his discomfort as he was soon yelling at his dad ferociously.

"This is why I don't bring my friends over! Not everything is some big dramatic romance! Can't they just be flat mates? Can't you just act normal for one bloody evening! Jesus, dad, you're such a sodding embarrassment!"

With that Bill rushed out of the room in a flurry. William looked blank for a second before looking to David and then rushing out after the boy. John and the older man sat at the table in silence for a few minutes before the faint sounds of shouts could be heard from the upstairs.

"I'm terribly sorry about all that; let me give you a ride home."

David offered and John nodded numbly in reply, he wasn't even sure if he could talk if he tried. The car ride was initially quiet, but when they came to a backed up intersection David finally spoke up.

"He's just a bit…dramatic you know? He doesn't mean anything by it honestly. It's just who he is, he sees romance everywhere, even when it's non-existent."

The man explained as they sat stuck in one of the worst traffic jams John had ever seen.

"I hope you weren't offended."

"No! No, I…not offended. I just…do we really come off like that? Do we sound, um, gay to you?"

John asked quietly and part of him hoped David wouldn't hear him, he was afraid to hear the answer to that. He knew where Sherlock stood on the terms of romance and it was at the exact opposite of the spectrum that William had just displayed. Then there was of course John's soul crushing desire to cling onto his heterosexuality for as long as possible.

"Well…that's not something I could say really. You sound close, but as far as I'm concerned being close to another man doesn't make you gay. That's not what William was trying to imply, like I said-"

"I know, I…well…it doesn't really matter. I'm straight and he's not interested. So as far as I'm concerned any notion of us getting together is ridiculous. We wouldn't last anyway. He'd get bored of it, the whole relationship thing…it's not his speed. He likes what we've got now, and so do I. Like I said, I like girls. I play rugby, I watch action movies, and you know…I date girls, lots of them. There's no need to go thinking up silly stories."

John said in a matter of fact tone that left something to be desired. They were silent again for a few minutes and the boy stared out the window and purposefully did not think about Sherlock kissing him as William had portrayed him doing so.

"John…can I tell you a personal story?"

David inquired breaking the silence. John observed him for a moment before nodding.

"When I was at University I was a regular red blooded male just like you. I took girls out all the time, played football, and I talked like a sailor. There wasn't a single person who thought me to be homosexual, not even myself. I had idle fantasies about other men that I would shove aside and explain away, then I'd force them away by getting my leg over with another girl. I didn't fall for any of them, and I really liked some, but it never clicked. Then I met William…everything just fell into place. But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, it terrified me. I was falling in love with one of my mates, we shared a dorm together junior year and it ate at me. First there was only fear, fear about what that meant, what that said about me. I thought that if I was gay that it meant everything else was a lie. I'd only ever heard of gays like William, flamboyant and chipper. I wasn't anything like that, so what did that say about me? I struggled with it for a long time, but one day I met one of William's friends who was not only gay, but an average bloke. No scarves or skinny jeans, just a tee-shirt and jeans. I finally understood. Being gay doesn't mean you're not you, it doesn't change who you are, it's just a small part of what makes you, you."

It was quiet when he finished, John sat in contemplation for a long time, working up the courage to speak again.

"What did your friends say? When they found out…did they think you were different?"

The boy questioned sheepishly.

"Some. But nobody I missed. Real friends don't care about those things; they just care about you and what's going to make you happy."

John nodded and looked out the window. When they finally made it back to the flat Bill had already texted an apology and John had thanked David for the ride and the advice. He took the steps two at a time before coming to a stop just before the entrance. Everything might be different now, he thought as he stared at the familiar door in front of him. He'd been spending a long time trying to convince himself that blokes were blokes and that meant that he couldn't be gay. That wasn't true anymore though. Being straight wasn't who he was, and neither was being gay, his sexuality in the broader scheme of things was just a tiny part of who he was. He could be a bloke, and just like other blokes. It was oddly freeing to think that, and it felt so simple he almost hit himself for not thinking it before. Now he was faced with another problem though. How could he face his mate that he'd fallen in love with years ago after he'd finally come to the decision that it was ok? That he could embrace those feelings? Especially since said flat mate was an asexual. Should he tell him? Be honest and explain the situation? Or should he maybe just start dating other boys? The thought scared and confused him. He hadn't thought of being with another man before.

His thoughts were cut short when the tall detective flung the door open and stared down at the blonde. He was in his bath robe and pajamas but somehow he still managed an air of authority and respect.

"Are you just going to stand there all night John?"

John smiled and pushed past Sherlock and into the flat.

"How was your evening? I see you had Thai food, but it seems a bit soon to be back from a dinner party. What happened?"

Sherlock inquired as he sat back onto the sofa. His eyes stared intently at John as he stripped out of his jacket.

"The dinner was…exciting. The food was good for sure; Bill's dad was the type keen on impressing people. He ordered the food from that Thai place we go to sometimes after a case."

John told the detective with a bit of a chuckle.

"Oh? How could you tell?"

"The oyster sauce they use in their cashew chicken has a distinct flavor, one I haven't tasted anywhere else. Plus, I sort of spied the receipt while we were leaving."

Sherlock smiled appreciatively before carrying on.

"You said exciting though, what happened?"

"Let's just say Bill's dad was one for theatrics. Things got a bit heated between the two of them."

"Ah, yes, his dad the actor I presume."

"How-never mind. Did you get anything to eat yet?"

"No."

"Want to?"

"Didn't you just have dinner? Are you really suggesting we order food so I can eat and you can what? Eat again? Watch me eat? Seems odd don't you think?"

"You watch me eat all the time."

Sherlock was quiet for a second while John moved to grab a take away menu.

"That's different, you eat whether I suggest it or not."

"Besides the point, plus, I'm eighteen, I can always eat."

Sherlock scoffed at the boy and flopped backwards on the couch.

"You're going to eat, you have to, it's in between cases and if you don't eat now you'll pass out the next time we're at a crime scene."

"Unlikely but I will consent if you'll stop nagging me about it."

"Deal."

John dialed the number and smiled to himself. Nothing had to change if he didn't want it to. Maybe one day he would tell the detective, explain his new found sexuality and perhaps even his feelings for the man. It was a bit nerve racking, but it was thrilling as well. Life was open to a number of different possibilities now.