A few weeks later John was in trouble. It was snowing all day and for once John decided to go straight home after school. He was freezing and his winter coat didn't fit anymore. It was far too cold to spend his day on the playground like he usually did.
He didn't expect his dad to be home. Normally he went to the pub for lunch and wouldn't come home for a few hours.
But apparently it was even too cold for the old man to go to a pub, so when John saw his dad he hoped that the man would ignore him but John wasn't lucky.
"John! I haven't seen you for ages." The man growled. John didn't have to look twice to see that his father was day-drunk.
"Hello, dad. I have to do my homework, so if you don't mind…"
"I mind! Come sit with your old man. You can have a drink too, you are old enough anyway."
"I am not. I am twelve, dad, and I don't like alcohol." John explained.
"Okay, you can have some tonic water, alright? But sit down."
"I don't like tonic water."
"Sit down!" The man shouted. John sat down. He should better listen to his dad before the man got really angry.
"You aren't growing much, are you?" The man noticed. John looked at his feet a bit embarrassed.
"Yes, I only grew two centimetres last year. The school nurse said I should eat more."
His dad poured himself another whisky.
"It's not about food. Your mother was small too. Tiny, little dwarf. Just like you."
John didn't like it when his dad talked about his mother. It made John feel… abandoned.
Suddenly his dad seized his chin and turned his face towards him. John could smell the alcohol in his father's breath. "You look just like her. You are never going to be a real man."
After a few seconds glaring at him he let go of John. John wanted to leave but his father held him down.
"You aren't going anywhere."
"Please dad, I have to do my homework."
"You have a few minutes."
John's legs were shaking. He was scared. Talking with his dad never ended well. But he obeyed again.
"What's up with that fancy school uniform?" His dad asked.
"I got a scholarship a private school."
"Smart, aren't you? I was smart too until I met your mum. You know I nearly had finished university but then she came pregnant with your good for nothing sister."
John looked at his dad. He didn't know that about his dad.
"Looks adorable on you the uniform, Jonny. Your mum would have loved it."
John shifted uncomfortable at his seat. He didn't look at his dad but he could still feel his glare on him.
"I hope your scholarship covered that fancy uniform, too."
"It didn't. But I paid it on my own." John explained.
"How the bloody hell could you have paid for that."
The man stood up and went to the bar at the other end of the room. He took out a new bottle of some clear alcohol.
"I worked." John said.
The man smirked evilly. "You know, Jonny boy, you will not go to university. You will screw up, like your mother, like me, like your gay sister. You will screw up like anyone in this bloody family."
"No I will not. I am working hard, dad. I am at the top of my class." John said confidently.
"Ha! Your mum was an honour student, too. But I think she liked drugs better. She liked drugs even better than you kids."
John started to cry.
"She did not leave us! She left you! You bloody drunk!" John screamed and only then realized his mistake. He shouldn't talk like this to his father. The next second he felt a hit to his left eye. For a moment he blacked out. The next he knows he was laying on the floor, his dad kicking him. John stood up. He took a glass bottle from the floor and threw it against his father's head. John just thought that he might have knocked his dad out, but the man just had head wound which was bleeding pretty much. He looked even angrier. His dad picked up the bottle from the ground which was now broken. Before John knew what happened, his dad had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pressed him against the wall.
"You are just like your mother." His dad whispered John into his ear. Suddenly John felt a sharp pain at his side. John needed a few second to understand what happened. His dad had stabbed him with the broken bottle.
"Dad, what the hell are you doing?" Harry had entered the room. John fell on the floor as his dad released him.
"Jonny, are you alright?" Harry asked concerned. John nodded. "Yes, I'm fine." John stood up and ran into the bathroom. Behind Harry was a girl, maybe her new girlfriend. She wanted to follow John but the boy locked the door before she could enter.
John could hear Harry argue with their dad, but he was much more occupied with the wound on his stomach. There was a large piece of glass still stuck in his flesh. John's hands were shaking. It looked like a wound someone could die from. John took some of his dad's after shave and poured it over the wound. Then he took the glass out and pressed some bandage against it. For some reason they had a pretty new first aid kit in the bathroom. John guessed that Harry had bought it because dad came home wounded on more than one occasion.
But John realized that a bandage wouldn't work. He needed stitches. Although he was pretty sure that the glass hadn't hurt anything important yet. He found some small set of needle and thread. He actually knew how to sew a wound. He had looked carefully how the school nurse had done it when a friend of his had cut himself into the hand deeply. He knew that it wouldn't work as good with a normal set of needle and thread. The nurse had used some special needle and a special thread but John didn't plan on going to the doctor. They would just ask questions he wouldn't like to answer.
Therefore he sewed himself up. John thought that he would pass out several times but in the end he was finished and pretty proud with work. His dad wasn't right. He wouldn't screw. He would become a doctor.
He went out of the bathroom. Harry and his dad weren't fighting anymore. Harry's girlfriend had left. Concerned Harry ran over to him and checked his head where his dead had hit him. She probably hadn't seen that dad had stabbed him otherwise she would have checked that wound first.
"Are okay, John?"
"Yes, I am fine." John lied. He felt kind of fuzzy and weak.
"I am taking dad to a hospital. I think his head wound needs stiches. Should I take you, too?"
John's and Harry's dad was standing behind Harry. He looked at John with narrowed eyes. Maybe he wondered how John wasn't dead yet.
"No, no. I am fine. Take him."
Harry carefully patted his head. "You are a brave boy, you know that." Harry said. Her voice wasn't really proud but very sad.
John smiled shyly. "Thanks, I guess."
Hours later John sat shivering in the small house on the playground.
He had left home. He wasn't sure if he had run for good, but maybe he should stay away from home until his wound was healed. If his father wanted to hit him again, chances were good that he could bleed to death if the stiches opened again. Of course it was the worst time to leave home. The snow was several centimeters thick and although John was wearing everything he owned he was still cold.
Today John didn't expect anyone at the playground especially at that late hour. He was surprised when suddenly Sherlock climbed into the small boat-house.
"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" John asked surprised. He hoped that the younger boy wouldn't notice John's weak voice.
"I went for walk and I recognized your foot steps in the snow."
John smiled a bit. Sherlock was standing in front of him. John felt like the younger boy expected him to stand up to greet him but John felt too weak to stand up. The walk to the playground and the cold weather had taken the last bit of his strength.
"How have you recognized my footsteps? They could have been anyone's."
"Oh, please." Sherlock explained. "I know your shoes. You are wearing them the every time I see you. They are the shoes from your school uniform. You don't see any other students from your school at this part of the town and I guess most of the children in your school are rich. Their parents would surely buy them nice winter shoes."
John nodded. That made sense.
"What happened to your face?" Sherlock asked.
John felt caught off guard. He touched his face carefully.
"I… had a fight with someone in my class."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"No, you are lying." Sherlock disagreed.
John snorted. "How would you know?"
"The person who hit you had a large hand. It couldn't have been a child." Sherlock deduced.
"And you can say that by looking on haematoma? "
"Yes."
John shook his head unbelievingly.
"But it also quite obvious, that you live in an abusive family." Sherlock explained. "First your family is obviously poor. You only have one pair of shoes and most of your clothes are worn of and seem to be from an older sibling since they are not really your size and were obviously worn by a female before. For example you can see on your sweatshirt that the upper part is stretched out most likely by female breasts.
Second you are spending most of your time on the playground. You don't really like your home. My first guess was that it might be too loud or crowded at your home and you preferred to do your homework here, but since you don't go straight home after homework or when most families have dinner, you must be scared of going home. You usually go home when you think that your alcoholic father goes to a pub.
How I know that your dad is an alcoholic? One can smell it on you. "
John glared at Sherlock. He didn't know if he was angry or amazed. But Sherlock continued his deduction.
"And you obviously plan on sleeping here tonight. You normally don't wear that much even if it is cold, you want to stay out longer. Moreover you have your school bag with you. You plan on going to school tomorrow. You care a lot about school. You have even put your school bag into a plastic bag to keep it dry tonight. And you didn't take blanket with you for tonight, because you don't have one. You are most likely sharing your bed. My guess is with your older sister from whom you got the clothes."
"How did you know all that?" John asked.
"It's easy. I observe."
"You are amazing." John said. Now it was Sherlock who was confused.
"You are not angry?"
"Why would I be?"
Sherlock looked happy and proud. He sat down next to John.
"It's pretty cold. Do you think you will be fine?" He asked John worried.
"Sure."
"Maybe you should call the police. I mean your dad beat you. Parents aren't allowed to do that." Sherlock told him.
John only smiled.
"I don't want too. I want to stay with my sister."
Sherlock nodded uncertain.
"Maybe you should come with me? I can sneak you into my room. You could sleep on the couch in my room. My parents aren't home and Mycroft doesn't enter my room without knocking."
John thought about it but then he realized that he couldn't even come with Sherlock if he wanted to. His side burned like hell and John was pretty sure that he wouldn't even make it out of the house without passing out.
"Don't worry, Sherlock. I am fine." John said.
"I kind of don't believe you."
"If it's too cold I can still go home. It's not like I am homeless. I just prefer… to be not at home at the moment." John tried to appease Sherlock.
Sherlock nodded.
"You know where I live if you want you can come. I am sure I can talk Mycroft into letting you sleep at our house."
"Thanks, Sherlock."
"I am sorry but I have to go know before Mycroft notices that I went out without asking."