Runaway Home

Chp 22

If you spot the Princess Bride reference that I put in there because that movie is perfection then I will…give you stuff. Probably just love. I got a lot of that shit lying around.

Carl Powers. It had been Carl Powers; he knew the shoes looked familiar. Even though he'd solved the case in time to save the woman he was still displeased it took him so long to figure it out. Though, to be fair, this whole John business had been horribly distracting. Both Mycroft and Lestrade knew, they knew this vital piece of information that John insisted on keeping from him. There wasn't much more of this he could take, and if he hadn't had the case he'd have already gone out of his mind. He wanted to let John tell him in his own time, but the detective was not a patient man nor did he like being left in the dark about things so closely related to the boy and his well being.

Despite the muddle of emotions and various theories swimming in the back of his mind, he did still have a case to work on. Which was why he and the boy were on their way to the next crime scene so they could save the next victim from becoming a jigsaw puzzle. It was wet and all of the Yard's idiots were on hand (save Anderson thank god) so Sherlock planned to make this as quick as possible. He observed the car quickly and found the company card for the car rental lying inside the glove box and pocketed it. Off hand he knew the blood spatter pattern seemed suspicious but he'd have to run some tests before he made any conclusions. John was standing closely to him and seemed rather put off with the way Lestrade and Donovan were looking at him. He'd noticed the other day John was very uncomfortable with Lestrade knowing whatever this thing was. To be fair Sherlock had also felt it was an unpleasant surprise.

He moved to get some distance between them and the nosy inspector as well as interview the wife. Assuming John would follow behind he walked swiftly towards the woman without a word. Once he'd introduced himself however, he realized John had stayed back as Lestrade had decided he needed to swoop in the moment Sherlock left his side. He bit back a snarl and continued his charade until the woman (as he'd predicted) contradicted him there by proving her lack of innocence. When he turned to make his way back towards the boy Lestrade was already retreating while Donovan had remained. John seemed just as pleased by that prospect as the detective was. He descended on the two with a stealth only he seemed capable of which caused the detestable woman to jump when she finally noticed that he'd come up beside the boy.

"Speak of the devil. You come to retrieve your little assistant then? How quaint, you must be just loving this."

She sneered as she took a step away from the detective to get a better look at him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and observed the woman, she seemed quite proud of herself for some reason. He cast a glance towards John only to see he'd gone impossibly still and was staring with wide eyed horror at Donovan. A new found rage pulsed through the detective, this…woman knew, she knew and she was mocking him. He didn't even need to take another look at the boy to know that this was not the time or the place that he'd want the detective to find out. Sherlock wanted to know, he wanted to know more than anything, but he didn't want to do it at John's expense.

"I haven't the time for your idiotic comments today Donovan, nor does John. We have a case to work. Unlike you, we spend our time out searching for leads rather than down on our knees."

Sherlock snapped and promptly took hold of John's arm to steer them away from the woman. It concerned him how easy it was to turn John around and begin walking towards the main road.

"Not that John wouldn't jump at the chance though, eh?"

Donovan called out to them before they could get too far. Sherlock froze in place to look down at John first who was a picture perfect representation of humiliation and fear. The detective balled his hands into fists and pivoted on his heel to turn and rapidly approach the woman.

"Perhaps I didn't make it clear enough for you pathetically underdeveloped mind, I haven't the time for your useless and frankly desperate attempts to get a reaction from me. I don't care what self inflicted pain you're experiencing because you continue to make yourself sexually available to a married man who will never have you over his wife, harassing John is something I will not tolerate. Do I make myself clear?"

He was practically vibrating with rage when he finished and all Donovan could do was stare at him for one infuriating moment.

"Loud and clear, freak. Have fun playing Hardy boys with your little boy toy, just try not to get in the way of the real police work."

She said huffily before walking away, there was no power behind her words though; the detective smirked at his obvious triumph. That smile was instantly washed away when he turned to see John standing defeated in the muddy path where he'd left him. With quick but careful steps he made his way back up to the boy. He placed a tentative hand on John's shoulder, silently willing him to look up at the detective. John decided he'd rather stare at the ground apparently as he continued to study the small pool of mud slowly engulf his shoes.

"Did you figure it out?"

John said in a heart breaking voice. Sherlock gripped tighter on the boy's shoulder and ducked his head to attempt eye contact with little success.

"I haven't worked out a thing other than Donovan continues to be one of the most foul creatures I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

The detective said quickly hoping to alleviate some of the boy's anxiety. Though, it was true, he continued to be in the dark on this issue. All possible theories were either implausible or out of the realm of possibility entirely. John took in several shaky breaths then finally looked up at the man with large blue eyes.

"I thought…I was certain you would press her until you found out…it wouldn't have taken much to get her to say it out right."

John replied quietly. Sherlock smiled sympathetically at the blonde and moved just a few centimeters closer.

"I may not like it, but I do respect your decision to not tell me. I can understand your desire to inform me on your own terms. That's your choice and I will be here when you do decide to tell me."

He said more confidently than he felt, if he was honest he was growing more and more nervous about his apparent lack of information. It seemed to help John though who rewarded him with a small smile. With that the two of them proceeded to find their way back to the main road and catch a cab. In a matter of moments they were silently hurtling in the direction of one Janus Cars company where he hoped to find more information on their newest victim. About five minutes into their journey John had begun to steal sidelong glances at the detective and tapping his fingers nervously on his leg. Sherlock did his best to covertly observe the change in behavior that he was almost certain indicated the boy was planning on speaking. Sure enough two minutes later John was clearing his throat.

"It was…a mistake. A very big mistake. I-Bill and I-were in the student union where we normally meet up for lunch. Everything was just fine, perfectly normal, until…he started talking about how his dad is such an avid reader of my blog and-and how it, um, makes him think about things. Well, I mean, he did this skit when I went to their house for dinner the first time and apparently he never really dropped the idea. So Bill was joking about it and how he ended up fighting with his dad on how it would never happen and I-I just blurted it out! I couldn't keep it to myself anymore! Bill is my best mate other than you and it just seemed at the time like it was the perfect time, that I'd never get another perfect opportunity to bring it up in a more casual way, so I just couldn't help myself! And it's not that I wanted to tell him more or anything, don't-don't look at me like that, it's just that I wasn't…I was more afraid how you'd take it then how he would. Part of me felt like you might have even figured it out ages ago and just didn't care and how would I know…oh god."

John was practically hyperventilating and Sherlock took it upon himself to scoot closer to the boy and wrap his arm around him.

"John, just relax. There's no need to be nervous. It's likely that it's something I knew and filed away as irrelevant or perhaps I don't know but even so it will have no affect on how I perceive you. You're still going to be John…so please, take a deep breath and just tell me what happened."

He hoped that came out soothing and he attempted to pat the boy's back as well to give him some reassurance.

"Right…well, I told him that –I'm-well I'm…Sherlock, I'm gay."

John almost whispered and if Sherlock hadn't been listening so closely he'd have missed it. But he didn't, oh no sir, he did not miss that. John was gay? What about all those girls? He had read somewhere that some men use dating a multitude of women to try and refute their true sexual identities, was that what John was doing? Did it even matter? Probably not because now the once straight as an arrow flat mate he'd found himself enamored with was now far more attainable. It took all of the detective's will power to not lunge forward and finally taste those lips on his own. He knew better though, John wasn't in a good place right now. If he made a decision while he was in this state he might regret it later, and that was not an option. Sherlock did not intend to become one of the many people John Watson had left behind. So he would wait, he could wait until this case was over at least. He could give John some time to relax and regain his calm. For now, he needed to focus on the case, and why exactly this proclamation involved Mycroft or Lestrade.

"Well, that's just fine John. I've never been one to care much for a person's sexual desires; it certainly doesn't make me think less of you if that's what you think. I'll need you to elaborate though as to how my brother became involved in all this, or your blog for that matter."

Sherlock said carefully, not wanting to pressure the boy but internally begging for the answer. His fears for the boy's mental state were quelled a bit by his blinding smile. Clearly John had been extremely concerned with how Sherlock would take this news. For now the detective couldn't think about how perfect that smile was, he needed to figure out what he was missing here. He needed to know what had hurt John so much, because as far as he could tell, this was not something that would cause the current situation.

"Oh…yes, the blog. Well when I got home I'd taken a shower and grabbed a bite to eat and all that, then I went to my room so I could update the blog. I hadn't put an entry in for a while and you know how people tend to worry when I don't update quickly enough. They start to think I've been shot up or something. Anyway…when I logged on I saw that I had a bunch of new comments…but they-oh-some kid had over heard what I'd said. He's this guy who Emily used to date and he's had it out for Bill and I ever since we hauled his drunk arse out of her dorm. So he posted something to my facebook, and it sort of took off I guess. Not everybody is very understanding, and more and more people started saying stuff. Nasty stuff about me and…um, well they also spammed my blog too so I just, well I just took everything down. I didn't want to read that stuff, it was…well I didn't need to hear it."

John stared intently at his thumbs after that and for a while there was nothing but sound of the moving taxi. Sherlock would later recall that it was a miracle he did not melt through the seat of the cab as he'd been overcome with a rage so white hot it was a definite possibility. So the detective sat for a long while doing nothing but glaring at a spot above the boy's head. He couldn't stand it, this boy; he'd messed with the wrong blogger. Sherlock would see to it that he came to a destructive end. That is, if his brother hadn't had the pleasure already. Another reason to ignore that idiotic case of his if he had. He could have sat there stewing in his new found thoughts of blinding hate for the rest of forever if it weren't for the look John started to give him. He became vaguely aware that it may appear that he was glaring at the boy so he did his best to make his face void of emotion and returned his gaze to John's eyes.

"I can only hope Lestrade knows because he has arrested the Neanderthal."

Sherlock said smoothly and quirked his brow so that John would realize he was genuinely interested in what exactly happened to his tormentor and how the inspector had gotten involved.

"Well…no. Mycroft apparently had him and a lot of the other kids either expelled or suspended on the grounds of inappropriate student conduct or something. I'm pretty sure he's friends with the dean; I wouldn't put it past him. Lestrade is just there because Mycroft had asked him about the likelihood they could charge that bloke with anything…that's what he was bothering me about today. They want to see if I can press charges for harassment, but…I don't want to."

"You don't want to? John, why on earth wouldn't you want to?"

The detective was incredulous, he couldn't fathom why John would not want to have the most wrath inflicted on this boy as possible.

"Because, he's been expelled and I know Mycroft spoke with him so he must be scarred out of his mind right now, so I don't see the need. I don't need to make more of an enemy out of him than he already is. With any luck this will teach him a lesson in tolerance, one that I don't think would stick if I went hunting down ways to get him in more trouble. That would just make him angrier, and if he's too afraid to lash out at me it will just be someone else."

John explained and turned to look out the window as their cab approached Janus Cars. Sherlock let out an aggravated huff of breath, as far as he was concerned this kid should be locked away for all of eternity. John seemed content with his decision though, and that was important. He could be happy so long as John was. As they exited the cab John handed the driver some money and they made their way towards the building. Suddenly Sherlock reached out and grabbed hold of the boy. John looked up at him expectantly and the detective squirmed under the gaze of those blue eyes. He needed to say something, anything. In a few moments he would be submerged in the case and have lost this chance completely if he doesn't act on it now.

"I want to thank you John, for sharing that with me."

Sherlock gritted out, not sure if it really conveyed just how thrilled he was John had felt the detective had earned the knowledge. Everyone else had been an accident one way or another, John chose him. There was thought behind it, there was a risk (or at least he had thought there was), and he took that leap for Sherlock. It was possibly one of the most touching things someone had done for him.

"Sure, let's not make a big deal of it ok? We've got the case to solve after all, that poor sod is still covered in semtex somewhere."

"As you wish."