A/N: Tough stuff this chapter.
WARNING for self harm, drug use, underage drinking and a bit of questionable behavior by a stranger.
Don't worry. Keep reading. It all gets better. Eventually. This is chapter 10 of 19, so you have to go through a bit of angst before it gets really good.
Sherlock wakes up some time later in the school nurse's office. His dad is there waiting to take him home, and he gladly goes, needing to get out of school as fast as he can. He can't be at school anymore, not after the realization that everyone was staring at him because they know about him and John, and what's worse is that they know about John and all the girls.
"Maybe a hot bath will sooth your nerves," Thomas says once they arrive home.
"Sure," Sherlock says, marching up the stairs to the bath.
He's in for over an hour. He lets the plug go and refills the tub three times before there's a knock on the door.
"Go away!" Sherlock calls.
His brother steps through anyway.
Sherlock draws his knees to his chest and sighs. "What do you want?"
"We need to talk."
"Do we?"
Mycroft stands to the side and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look intimidating. "What happened today?"
Sherlock leans down, resting his head on his arms folded on his knees. Then, he shrugs.
"A panic attack, the nurse said. Why?"
Sherlock shrugs again.
"Because of John?"
Sherlock shrugs harder.
"I told you having sex would—"
Sherlock sits up. He's angry now. "I didn't, okay?! I didn't have sex with him and I'm still in this mess, aren't I?"
"What do you mean you didn't—"
"I mean I didn't! I haven't! We kissed, that's all! And he went and found himself a girl, ten girls from what I've heard and now…I hear one's pregnant!"
"Sherlock—"
"I would still have him if it wasn't for you!"
"Sherlock, stop!"
Sherlock stands and climbs out of the bath. He yanks a towel off the rack and steps towards the door.
"Shut up, Mycroft. Just stop! I listened to you and look where that got me!"
"He's leaving this summer, Sherlock. And next year you can focus on your studies for Harvard."
"Shut up!" Sherlock yells again. This time, he shoves his brother aside and hurries out of the room.
He throws some underpants on once he gets to his bedroom, then he goes on a rampage. Shoes are thrown everywhere, shirts are torn for the sake of ripping something apart. He throws wooden shirt hangers at the wall; one hits his mirror and it shatters into a dozen pieces. He yells at nothing, then he picks up a shard of glass and squeezes until he feels blood pump out of his hand.
He drops the glass before he can do any more damage. He throws his clothes on and runs out of the house before anyone can stop him.
Sherlock walks south, towards the bad side of town. He doesn't mean to, he's not walking anywhere in particular. It's just that John's house is north, and he wants to be as far away from that vineyard as possible.
It's getting dark out. The light in the street is from passing cars and the few businesses still open. Nobody offers Sherlock a ride or offers him inside, and for that he is thankful.
He walks until he doesn't want to walk anymore. He figures he'll turn back and walk all the way home or else find a still-open business to call his dad, but he can't think about it before he notices a group of boys blocking his route on the sidewalk.
They whistle at him as he walks by. Surely they're looking for a fight, so Sherlock ignores them and keeps walking.
"What's up, pretty boy?" one of them calls to him.
He doesn't turn around. He doesn't say anything back.
The guy follows him. Sherlock speeds up.
"Aye, where you goin', doll?"
The guy catches up to Sherlock. Sherlock wants to run away, but he can't. He's stuck in shock, accepting whatever fate this bimbo gives him.
"Bad day?" the guy asks.
Sherlock doesn't say anything.
"Want some help?"
Sherlock eyes him but doesn't stop walking. "Help?"
The guy pulls plastic from his pocket. Inside the seal is white powder.
"What's that?" Sherlock asks.
"Coke. Want some?"
"What's it do?"
The guy laughs. "It's a drug, babe. You snort it up your nose and get high."
"High?"
The guy laughs harder. "Come on, honey. Do I have a world for you..."
Sherlock follows. The guy takes him to a party with a lot of other people. Most of them are much older than him, and they're still sober, so an older girl gets his still-bloody hand cleaned up and someone else hands him a drink. He downs it in one gulp.
The guy who brought him laughs at the face he makes at the taste of the drink. "Slow down there, babe. We've got all night."
Someone shows him how to snort the cocaine shortly after he gets there. They all laugh when he doesn't quite do it right, but Sherlock's determined and a fast learner, so he gets it up and tries to relax.
He feels great quickly. High is exactly how it sounds. He feels above the clouds; he feels the way he did the first time John took him onto the mountain overlooking the vineyard.
Sherlock pushes John out of his head. Soon after the high starts, the guy who brought him is kissing him right there on the sofa in front of everyone. Sherlock lets him, feeling too slow to tell him to stop.
When Sherlock wakes up, it's light out. He finds a clock and discovers that it's six in the morning. School starts in two hours, but since he feels like throwing up, he's in no mood to attend. Not to mention what happened yesterday, he'd be the laughing stock of the entire campus.
He feels too sick to walk all the way home, but since he can't find a phone, it's either walk or hail a cab. He checks his pockets and finds no money.
The guy is where Sherlock left him when he went to find a clock. He crouches down and pats the guy's cheek.
"Mmm?" he sighs awake. "What's up, babe?"
"Can I borrow some dough?"
"Sure, love," the guy says, sitting up and pulling out his wallet. He hands Sherlock a small wad of cash. "Gettin' out of here?"
Sherlock nods. "I have school."
The guy smiles. "Good luck, babe. Here," he takes another pack of coke out of his pocket and gives it to Sherlock. "If you ever need more, you know where to find me."
Sherlock takes it and nods. He moves to stand, but he realizes there's something he needs to know before he leaves. "Hey, uhm, did we…you know?"
The guy shakes his head. "You passed out before we could. So if you ever want to pick up where we left off…" he glances south on Sherlock's body and grins. "Find me."
Sherlock doesn't say anything to that. He quickly stands and leaves.
Sherlock gets home to find Thomas on the phone, giving Sherlock's description to someone, and Mycroft frantically pacing the sitting room.
"Sherlock!" Mycroft yells as he enters the house. "Dad, he's here!"
He hears Thomas hang up while Mycroft rushes to him. He takes Sherlock's head in his big hands and examines his eyes.
"Where have you been?" Mycroft demands.
Sherlock yanks his head away. "Out."
"You've been gone all night."
"Brilliant observation, Mycroft, really."
"Sherlock!" Thomas yells. "Tell us where you have been!"
"The top of the world, Daddy," he says, then goes to the stairs.
"Are you going to school?" Mycroft calls after him.
"Nope!"
Sherlock takes a bath, this time it's quick so he can get out before he throws up. He feels terrible. His mouth is dry, his eyes hurt, not to mention the sting in his nose.
He goes to bed right after his bath.
Mycroft is there when he goes downstairs for lunch. He offers to fix Sherlock a sandwich, but Sherlock only gets crackers and cheese to take to the table.
"Where were you?" Mycroft asks again.
"I honestly have no idea," Sherlock says.
"Were you at John's?"
"Nope."
"How do we know you're telling the truth?"
"Because John was probably out with some bearcat givin' her a baby, too."
"That's what this is about?" Mycroft asks.
"It's never about anything else."
"So he's really gone out with a girl?"
"Apparently," Sherlock says. "A dozen, for all I know."
"I'm sorry, Sherlock."
Sherlock stands with his plate of crackers. "You should be," he mutters, then takes his lunch upstairs.