John couldn't believe his eyes. This was something he had never expected to happen nor witness. He was paralysed to the spot, he just didn't know how to react the situation. John eyes locked with Sherlock's. In that instant, Sherlock could almost see, in fact hear John's heart breaking.
Sherlock shoved Victor off of him, the other man hit the sofa like a sack of potatoes, his back whacking against the front of the sofa, that would leave a bruise. Sherlock eyes faltered between John and Victor, while Victor only stared at the floor.
"John please, I know it sounds cliché but it's really not what it looks like" Sherlock quickly divulged. With that John took three consecutive steps towards Sherlock, pulled his hand into a fist and snapped it in Sherlock's face, missing the cheekbones but aiming straight for the nose. Sherlock stumbled back a few paces clutching his nose with both hands, looking horrified and shocked at John's action.
John turned towards Victor.
"You can fucking have him" spat John towards the man still sat on the floor. John stalked out the room and back out the front door again.
The silence was thick in the flat. Blood was dripping from Sherlock's nose, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about right was John. John who had just walked out the door. John who Sherlock didn't know was coming back or not. Sherlock didn't know whether to cry right then and there or get angry at Victor, or even get angry at himself. Sherlock felt like a piece of him and just been torn out from him and stamped on. Flexing his fists and pacing the flat, Sherlock for the first time ever couldn't think. To top it all off that prick was still sat on the floor or his flat. That was it.
Crouching down besides Victor, Sherlock carefully and coherently muttered to him, "I think you better get the fuck out my flat, and if you don't not even a entire police force will be able to find your body. Leave now, if you come back you will be going straight out the window onto 's bins. Got it?"
Victor nodded, acknowledging Sherlock's threat. Tugging himself up from the wooden slacked floor, Victor brushed off his clothes with his hands and wandered towards the door, trying to keep his head up and shoulders straight, just like the slime-ball he always was. Sherlock let his breathe he had been holding out though his mouth, his nose too delicate to breathe though. His heart was still beating fast, too much adrenalin coursing though his veins from being caught. Well it was wasn't really being caught, he hadn't done anything wrong, he just had to let John know this fact as well. Sherlock set about bombarding John's mobile with texts, ranging from 'Please come home' to 'Please let me explain everything' and of course the 'I love you' texts. John wasn't replying to a single one of them, this only increased Sherlock's anxiety levels, this was the danger moments when he knew he could make the pain go away with a simple push of a needle's plunger into his arm, if only.
It had been 2 days now. 2 days of John still not coming home, and 2 days of Sherlock crying into a pillow with John's scent still lingering on it. It had also been 2 days of Mycroft watching his brother's heart break over the hidden cameras in the flat. After observing Sherlock become a total recluse, Mycroft feared it would not be long until his brother turned to the drugs for comfort again, Mycroft could not let that happen. Sherlock might think of him as a interfering busy-body but he would do anything to help his little brother even if it involved kidnapping.
Sherlock arrived at Mycroft's country home by mid-morning after being rudely pulled out of his bedroom by Mycroft's men against his will, he was taken to what Sherlock recognized as the guest bedroom which he used during his withdrawal all them years ago, he sat on the poster-bed and waited as the door was locked behind him.
Moments later Sherlock could hear voices approaching the door, as it got closer he could hear John's voice, shouting at whoever was with him. The door handle turned sharply, Sherlock's head quickly snapped toward the area of the door to see two men entry both holding each of John's arms. Both their eyes met, Sherlock noticed John's face; bags under the eyes obviously tired, reddening of the eyes and dried moisture tracks down the man's cheeks. John had been crying recently. That made Sherlock feel physically sick.
Pushing John fully into the room, the other minions left locking the door behind them.
"What is the meaning of this?" hissed John.
"Don't blame me. It's probably Mycroft's idea of an attempt to get us to talk" Sherlock retorted back at the doctor.
The room entered into silence. John stepped towards the window to check the locks; tightly locked. Then John had a idea, he picked up once the lamp stand and tried to use it to smash the window, no luck it only bounced off.
"Don't bother John. It's impact resistant glass plus it's locked. Mycroft did love to disguise this prison cell as a normal looking room" stated Sherlock.
"What are you on about?" asked John.
"This room was the place Mycroft locked me up during my withdrawal from drugs. He had the sense to improve the features and fitting of the room so I couldn't escape" gestured Sherlock pointing his hands towards different areas of the room.
Acknowledging the answer, the room once again fell into silence. Both men were waiting for the other to say something. It was Sherlock who took the first step.
"Look John, please let me explain somethings. Mycroft won't let us out until we at least probably talk to one another" expressed Sherlock.
John only nodded in agreement. Taking a deep breath Sherlock was ready to tell John every little detail, every secret he had kept. He needed John to understand. But most of all he needed John to forgive him.
"I met Victor back in university. He had always had a hold over me, I can't explain how he does it. He threatened to tell you about my past, things I couldn't bear for you to find out but I guess it kind of defeats the object seeing as I'm telling you everything now" Sherlock paused to take another deep breath when John interrupted.
"I already know about the drugs" said John.
"Yes I know, but you don't know everything and I think I should tell you now. You have a right to know. I didn't have any friends in uni, I guess that's why I was so eager to keep Victor close. I was desperate to keep him happy. He was the one who got me hooked on the drugs. It started off with cannabis, it was fine for a while but Victor wanted to try harder drugs. He pressured me into trying cocaine with him, stupidly I followed, I should of been able to stay no but I was weak" tears were steadily streaming down Sherlock's face. John only watched him speak. Sherlock continued recalling his past.
"Victor made me feel special in the moments when he wasn't high. During the day he would call me brilliant, amazing and by nighttime he call me a freak, psycho just like everyone at uni did to me"
John recoiled, feeling empathy for Sherlock. John made a mental note to morally wound Victor next time he saw him.
"Mycroft found out I was using. He cut my money off leaving me dependent on Victor. Victor's response was to make me work for the drugs, and by work I mean sex" Sherlock's voice faltered on the last word.
"Victor hired me out to men, I agreed. The drugs had me hook, all I could think about was my next fix and pleasing Victor's wishes. I was effectively a male prostitute"
John winced at the last sentence but didn't say anything, he continued to listen to Sherlock.
"He wanted me to be with him. He is dying John, he said he regretted what he had done to me and wanted us to be together. I told him no. I wanted you John. Victor threatened to tell you after I rejected him so I let him stay, I couldn't let him tell you, as I lead to believe I was a virgin, I've deleted many of the details from my encounters of those men. But I swear on my life, I didn't know he was going to kiss me. Please you have to believe me" Sherlock pleaded with John, getting down on his knees in front of him and clutching onto his jeans like a small child.
John could only stand there and take in what Sherlock has said, running over every detail imagining Sherlock in his uni years. Tears began to sting his eyes, he simply stared down at Sherlock's dark head which was shaking as the detective was crying. John began to speak.
"Sherlock, let go of my leg" John tried to shake the taller man of him. Sherlock almost wailed in response but let go, letting the rest of his body crumple onto the floor. John dropped to his knees besides Sherlock and pulled him onto his chest, cradling him.
"shh, Sherlock it's okay" John sighed while gently rocking Sherlock back and forth.
John pulled Sherlock up on to the bed, Sherlock only held onto John tighter as the doctor hauled the both of them onto the comfortable sheets. Sherlock had decreased crying, he was trying to control his breathing. John softly rubbed Sherlock's upper arm in a calming motion. All the tears had worn them both out considerably, both men fell asleep clinging on to one another.