"My father?...I've never had one..."
"I'm afraid you have...I am him."
John stared ahead dazed with confusion. His mother had told him that his father had left her. John remembered the conversation that took place every night. She had at least one bottle swinging from her hand, as he would stay silent for fear of being punished. John shivered when thinking of this, the punishment hurt, however like his mother always said,
"It was always necessary." The worst pain was not the cigarette burns, nor the knife or the belt. It was knowing he would always do something wrong. He would always do something to make her angry or upset. He had never seen his mother smile at him, the only time she smiled was when she shot her...John sucked in a deep breath. Not now, he reminded himself, not now. All of a sudden, he remembered the man, Sherlock? No his...dad? Was still staring at him waiting for a reaction.
"Mother told me you had left her."
Sherlock looked startled at this,
"Your mother never told me you were...alive."
"Who are you? Are you bad?" John replied.
"What?" He wasn't expecting John to ask that.
"She punished me, some-sometimes, because I-I had bad blood in me. From my father. Are-are you a bad person?"
Sherlock didn't answer immediately, he was to busy thinking. Was he a bad person? No, he solved crimes, he helped Lestrade and the useless police force. Sometimes he did use guns and weapons, but to his own entertain when bored. Not to kill somebody...well only if it was necessary. Eventually, he formed his own opinion,
"There are always bad aspects about us. However I use the good ones, mostly. Therefore I'm not bad. Also it depends on people's viewpoints about what good actually is..." He realised he was rambling and stopped talking.
"It must just be me then..." John answered in an almost terrified voice.
"What do you mean?"
"I must-must be bad."
"No!" Sherlock shouted, John appeared to be very scared and he was realised John was on the verge of hyperventilating. More calmly he spoke,
"You are not bad, you have done nothing bad." John was still breathing harshly, this wouldn't be too good for his bruised ribs. So Sherlock took his hand in his. John looked down, his breathing still quick however it slowed down a fraction. He continued talking,
"I have seen people murder others, for nothing else then enjoyment. I have seen so many bad people and let me tell you, John, you do not have anything similar to them."
He continued to gently rub John's hand, as John's breathing eventually decreased, till it was at the normal rate.
"Sorry..." He started.
"Don't apologise, it's not your fault." Sherlock smiled and to his relief John smiled too.
Minutes passed by, until John spoke up again,
"Do you care about me? I mean, I saw a family on the, on the TV. They held each others hand and cared about each other..."
"You know what John, I have known you for less then a day..." John gazed down in sadness, however Sherlock continued, "...but you have already started a new flame in my heart."
John smile was so big, it filled the whole of his face.
A/N: Review (from a guest): Thank you so much! Also thank you for reviewing! :)
Sorry these last few chapters have been really short, hopefully the next one won't be. Also thank you for still reading this. :)