CHAPTER 44. BROKEN PEOPLE
Sherlock couldn't understand his or his brother's inaction at the hospital. Mycroft was supposed to be able to fix things, and how many times had John stood up to someone even father for Sherlock? All the six year old could do was stand there, listening and watching like all the other ordinary idiots. That was John's father, they had the same features, Sherlock knew that when John was older that would be his friend's face. Except without the hardness. The man was holding John roughly and John didn't say anything, he was instead holding a familiar handkerchief to his bleeding nose, keeping his head down.
Sherlock had begged his brother to fix it to do something but Mycroft as unfeeling as ever just said "Come on Sherlock. Let's go home." Cowards, they all were all cowards, and John was pushed out the exit and towards a running car, not once did he look over in his friends direction. Sherlock couldn't let him go alone, he knew from what little his friend had said on the subject of Mr. Watson, was that he never stayed around too long. John would be alone, Harry having left and of course his aunt had returned home when John's father was out of rehab. These were easy things to deduce, along with other things but Sherlock needed more data. He needed to know his friend would be alright.
At dinner Mycroft said nothing, and Sherlock refused his dinner not understanding the anger he felt, at himself at John's father and Mycroft. Even at John, why didn't John fight back, he always fought back, with everyone? Why not this time?
Why didn't he do something? Why couldn't anyone do something even the Doctor's the grown ups just stood around.
John could be all alone with his father's wrath. Well Sherlock wouldn't allow it, he would go there to John's and he would bring him home. Keep him out of reach from Harry's barbed words and his father's heavy hands. Just until the end of Holiday's. He could do this because John was his friend and friends protect each other. Isnt that what his friend had always said?
It took the smaller boy longer than he thought to reach John's house in the dark and the snow. By the time he reached the place Mr. Watson was trying to back out of his driveway, his car sliding in the snow he nearly took out the neighbors fence." Pity it wasn't a tree. "Sherlock growled to himself, he held one of the medical books John had carried all the way there as an excuse for visiting.
The dark haired boy sprinted across the lawn as the older model car made it's way down the street in the snow, sliding and swerving. Drunkin idiot.
Sherlock didn't have to knock the door was left unlocked and partly opened. He peeked inside, never having actually been in John's house before. The sight that greeted him made his stiff hands drop the book he'd been carrying.
He stepped into the dimly lit living room the telly was lying broken, shattered beside a toppled over book shelf. The small coffee table and sofa flipped over on their sides. He tried to stop it, the deductions stepping quickly back into the small foyer. His eyes shot to the stairs where someone had tried to scrambled up only to be brought down hard the area rug that sat just at the bottom of those steps was scrunched up and rumpled beneath a new hole in the plaster of a wall in the living room. More broken furniture he could see it as it was supposed to be and he clasped his eyes shut against the violence of it all.
Stumbling back he called out his friends name. "John!" no answer, "John!" he followed the trail of dirty footprints, and made his way into the kitchen, dots of blood still wet left him a trail stopping in front of a small bathroom. The door ajar, he could hear someone inside but the light wasn't on.
"John." Sherlock choked out, pushing the door open slowly someone hissed out in pain when the door came up against something heavy. It was enough for a skinny six year old to squeeze in. "John?" Sherlock was looking for the light,
"Sherlock?" came the raspy voice. "Sherlock what are you-"
"Where's the light?"
"No, don't turn it on."
"John? What's wrong?" Sherlock found the light switch, his friend groaned as the room became illuminated and Sherlock almost wished he had listened.
"John-"his heart dropped to his empty tummy, he could see cuts and so many bruises. John's sweatshirt was ripped at the collar. Someone stronger, with bigger hands pulled him back when he tried to escape to hide. John's lip was split and the younger dark haired boy felt as if his legs were made of jelly. He held to the edge of the sink, his gray eyes darting around taking in the visual data. Confirming his deductions and being right usually excited him made him feel happy and cocky but not this time, this time he felt sick.
"It's alright. I just need a minute. Is he gone then?" John whispered leaning a head back against the toilet.
"Yeah, he was headed down the road." Sherlock swallowed, he forced himself to look towards his friend.
"Why are you here? What-"
"I remembered I had your book I wanted to return it." Sherlock kneeled slowly moving to be next to John.
"A book? Did you walk?" The blond boy was squinting his left eye a bit swollen.
"You can yell at me later but your face is bleeding and what's wrong with your uh- arm, you're- you're holding it funny."
"I think I fell on it." Sherlock didn't know what to do next. He just felt so helpless.
"It's fine. Just give me a minute I think-do you think you can help me call someone?"
~0~
"We're here Sherlock." Lestrade announced unnecessarily, except his companion had been so quiet the rest of the short ride, something told the old DI that the consulting detective's thoughts were miles away.
"Finally! Really Lestrade who gave you a license?" Sherlock was out of the car, he'd sent John several texts having received no reply made him that much more anxious. Why did he feel so anxious!? It's a hospital, John couldn't have gotten up to too much trouble, could he? Maybe he couldn't text back because he was losing too much blood and was being hooked to an IV.
"Doctor John Watson please." Sherlock was nearly out of breath the older woman at the front desk only glared at him. Sherlock was about to say something cutting when Lestrade showed his warrant card.
"Hello, I am Detective Inspector Lestrade this is Sherlock Holmes, we were told there had been an incident with Doctor Watson."
"Oh yeah right the new guy. He's being stitched up by Doctor Bales, should be coming out. Just down the hall there exam room 12."
Sherlock was moving past her and the DI was on his heels, did that awful crone say Doctor Bales. Why did that name sound so familiar?
"John!" Sherlock was hurrying towards his friend. His arm was bandaged and his shirt sleeve was rolled up, Sherlock deduced it had been shredded by the blood stains. Utility knife, didn't go in too far then.
"Sherlock?" John froze "Why are you here? Did something happen? Are you ok?" John was looking over his friend now, searching for injury, he turned to see the DI. "Everything alright?"
"We got a phone call, said you were in a bit of a scuffle." Lestrade coughed awkwardly putting his hands on his hips pushing his coat back. The Doctor had given him a quick glance searching for any sign of injury. This made Lestrade feel even more like an ass, and he found he couldn't bring himself to meet the young Doctor's blue eyes.
"Oh-that." John looked uncomfortable. "It was nothing."
"John you were stabbed." Sherlock exclaimed. "Really what kind of security does this place have?"
"Sherlock will you lower your voice." John lead his friends away from the corridor. "I'm fine. It was just a couple of stitches nothing serious. Barely superficial. It was actually a good thing that officer Kelly showed up when he did, took the man down without much of a fight. All went smoothly."
"Smoothly-" Sherlock scoffed.
"Officer Kelly?"
"Yes, then that other officer uh, Wright I think was his name."
"John maybe working in an A&E isn't exactly-"
"Stop. Right there. It's been a long night. And if we continue this conversation in the halls people will talk."
"That's all they ever do!" Sherlock growled.
"I'm fine. Really. Don't tell me you left a crime scene to just check on a few stitches." John narrowed his eyes on his flatmate who didn't reply only looked away. The DI had a grin on his face.
"Cant blame him for worrying about you Doctor, you're the only one brave enough to put up with the bastard. That and who's going to fan the flames of his already incredibly large ego?" John couldn't help but laugh.
"You're right. Absolutely right DI."
"Doctor Watson!" Officer Wright was just turning a corner avoiding colliding into a tall man with an umbrella looking irritable. "There you are. Kelly said we need a report, he's back talking to child services."
"Really officer cant he do this later, the man has been stabbed." Sherlock snapped.
"It's fine." John hated being babied he was fine dammit. He had been a soldier, sure he was a bit tired and his adrenaline had caused his shoulders to slump and head to throb.
"Lestrade!" Sherlock growled. The DI was smiling amused now, he'd never seen this part of Sherlock. So he was human after all. The officer straightened up once he noticed the DI standing just off to the side.
"That's alright Officer, I'm sure the Doctor wont be going anywhere. He can come down to the Yard tomorrow. The report can wait."
"Yes sir." Wright sighed. "Well then I'll be off. The man should be going into surgery here an hour. Looks like you broke his wrist pretty good Doc. Of course in self-defense. Never seen a Doctor move like that." John shrugged.
"It was an accident." John gave a thin smile. "I was just worried about disarming him really."
"Fancy work then Doc."
. "I'll give you both a ride back to the flat." The DI could read the exhaustion in the good Doctor's young face.
"Don't bother Lestrade we'll take a cab." Sherlock huffed.
"Uh, thanks. For your concern. And Officer Wright good work." John offered his unhurt hand.
"Be seeing you Doc." Officer Wright headed back towards the prisoners room.
"DI." John nodded stiffly, feeling self-conscious he turned to Sherlock,. "Before we head home I just need to stop in and check on a patient."
"John really-" Sherlock started to protest but something stopped him someone was approaching someone familiar, his eyes narrowed on the Doctor in the white lab coat.