A/Note: Thanks Idahohorsegirl92 for favoriting my story, and the followers and reviews.

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27. Restrained

John was tossing and turning, angry. He couldn't sleep. If Janine weren't a girl he would've punched her right there at the Ball. He was furious with Sherlock. How long had this been going on? "Since Allan's visit", he had said. Spite. Was Sherlock so jealous of Allan that had decided to cheat on him? With Janine? Why Janine? Well, John had seen her looking at Sherlock, but regarding girls' attentions he was always so aloof. Or so he said. There was nothing aloof about the way he held her and kissed her. Kissed her!

He was swallowing down tears, he would not cry over this. Nope. No way.

He jolted, his phone was buzzing. It was an unknown number. He didn't want to answer and waited a bit, it was almost one in the morning. But he speculated it could be Sherlock calling from Janine's phone and at this time of the night, it could only be an emergency.

'John? I'm glad you're awake-'

'You have the nerve! I saw you snogging Janine, is this her phone? How long has this been going on? How could you do this to me?'

'Erm, John, I know I owe you many explanations, but right at this moment I need your help. I need someone to pick me up at the police station and take me to my father's car, so I can go home. If you please,' he added for good measure.

...

John burst through the police station's doors, head swivelling all around. Sherlock felt a small jolt and stood up, relieved to see him. Clearly John had dressed hastily and haphazardly, and his hair stuck up at odd angles.

John's eyes found him and examined him from head to toe. The first thing he saw was a blackening bruise on his chin. Sherlock's hair was a mess and the suit jacket was buttoned up, holding the two separate sides of his shirt together, the tie gone. His right knee was torn and scuffed. He approached and there were red marks on his neck. Hickeys. His eyes went down to examine the shirt and some buttons were missing, others barely hanging by a thread. There were scratch marks on his chest. Those happened when his shirt was torn. Janine? No, the hands that did that are much larger. Then he saw Sherlock's wrists. He held them up for a better look; there were red marks on them and his knuckles were abraded, his right palm scraped. Sherlock was tied, but fought back.

He couldn't piece together what had happened. The last thing he knew, Sherlock had been snogging Janine. Then he smelled it.

Men's cologne and someone else's sweat. He was punched and tied. He fought back. Shirt ripped open, hickeys, scratches.

His forehead moved as he understood. 'Sherlock, are you hurt?' John asked softly.

He opened his mouth to answer but there was a shrill cry at the door.

'Sherlock! What happened?' Mrs. Holmes was rushing in with Mr. Holmes right behind.

Sherlock sighed, 'They said as a minor I needed my parents to pick me up, not just you, after I had already called-'

'Sherlock!' She turned him by the shoulders to face her, touched his cheek and noticed the bruise. 'Who did this to you?' She turned to John, wide eyed.

'It wasn't him, mummy. I called him to pick me up, he just got here.'

'Mr. and Mrs. Holmes?' an absurdly bass voice spoke, making all of them jump.

'Perhaps we can talk in my office? Son, why don't the two of you wait in that room for just a bit?'

Sherlock didn't wait and pulled John with him. It would be easier to tell him without his parents around anyway.

...

...'So as I ran, I was picked up by a patrol car. Once I explained what had happened, they called for another car to get Sebastian. I was hoping to get out of here before his parents arrive, but I don't think we'll make it now. It was most interesting though, they rubbed swabs on my stomach, photographed my injuries; although I had to point out they should scrape under my fingernails - which they dismissed saying they had enough material, that I watched too much telly and this "was no murder case"-'

'Sherlock!', John said. 'Stop.'

He was horrified, angry and astonished. But with Sherlock going on and on about the "interesting" process he had just gone through made it clear that he wasn't all right. Sherlock needed him. And he needed to stay calm. He stretched his hand and gently touched Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock closed his eyes and turned into the hand, taking a deep breath.

'How are you feeling?', he asked.

Sherlock smiled briefly, 'John, I'm not a little bird ready to fly away, you can speak to me in a normal tone.'

Before John could say anything else there was a gentle knock on the door. He let his hand fall.

'Sherlock dear,' his mum said at the door, 'we need to talk to you. John, if you don't mind-'

'I want him to stay.'

'Very well,' his father closed the door and sat down around the table.

'How are you, dear?' His mum stretched her hand towards him, but halted and contained herself. She too sat down.

'I'm fine. I just want to go home, this has been tedious. They wouldn't let me go on my own. We still need to get father's car.'

'Never mind the car. Do you want to press charges?' His father asked.

'I don't know if that'll do any good.' He paused. 'Perhaps we can make an agreement with his parents?'

'What do you have in mind?' Mr. Holmes had a hard look on his face. John had never thought Mr. Holmes could ever look that angry, he was just glad it wasn't directed at him.

'Maybe have them agree to get him some psychological treatment and move him to a different school? With a restraining order. Then I won't press charges.'

'The officer says he claims you egged him on, leading him to it,' his mum said cautiously.

'I only pretended to want it so he'd untie me. I couldn't defend myself while being tied up. He was going to rape me, there was no question about it.'

John pursed his lips and his face darkened, Mrs. Holmes' forehead crinkled in anguish, Mr. Holmes clenched his fists on the table.

'Has he been harassing you all this time?' Mr. Holmes asked.

'Yes. Well, he bullied me for four years, but as for the sexual harassment, it's been a couple of months.'

'Months?' John cried, 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'He suspected we were together, I didn't want him to out us and cause you trouble.'

'You mean he tried this before?' John was furious.

'He tried to kiss me once and forced me to meet him after class another time.'

'He forced you?' John stood up, livid. Mrs. Holmes touched his arm to calm him, so he sat back down.

'Not physically; he threatened to spread rumours about us. That's why I started pretending Janine was "J".'

John's forehead moved once he understood. 'That's why you told me not to sign my texts as "J" anymore!'

'After I started meeting Janine to study he backed away, but started using his bullying as an excuse to touch me.'

'He touched you?' John stood up again, his face red, fists clenched.

'Sometimes he slapped my tush, sometimes just grabbed my arm or nape.'

John spun around and kicked the wall. Fists still clenched, he stopped with a hand on his waist and an arm over his eyes as he breathed hard, trying to calm himself down. Finally he turned around and sat back down, frowning.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly.

'Sherlock, are you sure?' His father asked. 'Do you want to think about it?'

'No. There's nothing else to think about. Can we go now?'

...

Their family solicitor had just arrived so Mr. Holmes stayed at the station to talk to Sebastian's parents. John took Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes home. She said they would worry about the car later. Clearly she just wanted to put her son to bed, tuck him in and assure herself that he was safe.

But she knew that underneath his bored look Sherlock needed John.

'Why don't you come in for a bit, John? I can make you some tea and let you boys talk in the sitting room for a while. Not too long, mind you. It's very late and your parents will be worried if they wake up and find out you're not home.'

Sherlock sighed but John thanked her.

Once she went into the kitchen, John hugged him. 'Oh Sherlock.' There were so many things in his mind right now he didn't know what to say.

'I lost my phone in Sebastian's car and - well, I suppose I could've asked to use the station's phone again and tell you they had called my parents. But the truth is, I still wanted you to come.'

'I don't mind. It was good that I was there, otherwise you and your mum would still be waiting at the police station.'

Sherlock had been stiff, but slowly sagged into his arms. He finally allowed himself to shiver. John tightened his hold.

'It's all right, Sherlock,' he whispered. 'It's over now. He won't hurt you anymore. You're safe. You're home.'

Sherlock just allowed himself to be held. He didn't feel the need to say anything. John was here.

Mrs. Holmes had returned to ask if they were hungry, but stopped at the kitchen door when she saw them hugging. Bracing herself with a hand on her chest, her eyes stung as she watched her usually cold son shivering and John's comforting words. Sherlock had found love. And was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable and to be held. With a mix of happiness and envy heavy in her heart, she quietly stepped back into the kitchen to finish making tea. She already thought John was a nice boy, but that night he definitely won her over.