John, Sherlock and The Girl he kidnapped

Freak

Hello! This is my first try at a fanfic. I hope you enjoy reading it and tell me what you think.

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Sherlock sat staring at the unconscious teenager on his sofa, palms steepled together in front of his face, thinking.
In hindsight, he thought, this may not have been my best idea.
The consulting detective couldn't understand how the day's events had occurred. Yes, he obviously knew that he had carried the girl out of the school after she fainted. But how had he been brought to doing this?
He knew the answer. Yet Sherlock struggled to accept it.
Emotions! He thought. How could it be my emotions?! Yet he knew that after eliminating the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

But it's not just improbable. It's impossible! My feelings don't effect me.
I don't have emotions!

His piercing eyes bore into the girl's flushed cheeks, where they had been drawn to since he laid her there almost an hour ago. Swinging back on his chair, Sherlock pulled his hands behind his head to scrape through his dark curls.
Suddenly the front door slammed shut. He leant forward, placing all four chair legs back onto the floor.
The straight faced man braced himself for each clomp of shoe on step until John reached the door of the flat.

"Hello Sherl-," John's face appeared in the doorway. It had been smiling but was now lined with faint interest.

"Client?" John gestured to the girl with one hand, the other holding shopping bags.

"Not exactly." There was a long silence.

"Right? So...?"

Sherlock leapt to his feet, grabbing his violin.
"We've just been chatting. She's tired now. She'll wake up soon." He began to bow a quick tune.

John stared, brow furrowed creating a mono-brow of skin on his forehead.
"Chatting? Since when do you chat? Sherlock?" John stepped towards him, talking over the tune. "What aren't you telling me?"

Sherlock swiftly swung the violin onto his chair.

"She just....collapsed. I didn't think they really did that- the fainting thing," he almost mumbled.

John stared up at Sherlock, placing the groceries on the floor.
"Are you being deliberately unhelpful? What is she doing here?" John glanced again at the teen laying peacefully on the sofa, noticing her muddy shoes on their furniture.

"I carried her John. She did the fainting-thing at that school. So I brought her here."

The two men stared at each other calmly. John held his gaze as his face seemed to gradually crinkle itself into a ball.
For god's sake John mentally sighed. I can't believe him!
The sandy haired man looked down and began tapping his foot.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Are you telling me that you...kidnapped...this teenager?"

Sherlock chirped up immediately: "Well, kidnapped is a harsh te-"

"Yes, or no. Did you illegally take a girl out of school?"

"....Yes."

The only noise in the flat came from the road outside.
John abruptly turned round and began pacing in a circle. He stopped, expecting Sherlock to yell 'got you!' but flung his hands in the air when the outburst never came.

"What the hell do you mean!?" His rough voice filled the flat. Sherlock found that he was unable to answer.

"No. You're the man with all the answers- you always have answers! Talk me through it. Now."

Sherlock didn't have to deduce a thing to know the army doctor was deadly serious. John shuffled his standing position but his stare didn't leave Sherlock's once.

"I was at St. Crawford High for a case. The girl ran past me, pursued by some imbecilic thugs....she just collapsed." Sherlock paused, looked to the floor, linked his ice blue eyes to John's.

"They called her a freak, John."

The doctor's insides dropped a little. It was rare for Sherlock to talk about his past but John managed to piece it together from subtle hints. This told him enough to know that his adolescence was a lonely time. In fact Sherlock had spent all of his life as an outcast until-

John swallowed. He supposed it made sense. His flat mate had always had a weak spot for other outcasts.

"Ok."
Fantastic thought John. Now I'm rationalising kidnapping!

"I'm not saying you made the right choice," he continued, leaning his head forward in his passive aggressive manner, "but I... understand. Now what do we do?"