Destined - A Teenlock/Johnlock

25. I protect you.

       

After thirty minutes, the closet door opened. John was lying curled up, half unconscious. His breathing uneasy.

"John." Someone whispered. John weakly opened his eyes. His eyes widened when he saw Sherlock standing in front of him. His face full of concern.

"Sherlock?" He weakly said. Sherlock bent down holding John his face tightly. John's tears running out from behind his hands.

"John..." Sherlock said quietly. Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked at John and the wounds he had. "John, what happened?" He added. Sherlock saw a blob of purple and red made its presence on John's right cheek from the punch. He has a busted lip and wounds everywhere on his upper body. "John, we have to go now. We talk later." He whispered, gently wrapping his arms around John's limp body. And tried to let him stand up. "Your dad is in the living room, watching television. So if we're quiet, he won't hear us." Sherlock said. John just nodded stiffly. John's mom let Sherlock inside the house. She had a bruise on her face, she obviously knew what was going on. She gave Sherlock a smile and gestured towards the stairs.

Sherlock was leading John downstairs. Both padding down onto the stairs. Sherlock his arm is wrapped carefully but tightly around John's waist as comfort. When they were on the first floor, Sherlock gazed around. Checking if it is save, and it is. When they walked outside, Mycroft was waiting patiently in his car. His face turned immediately, frowning furiously at the sight of a hurt John. Sherlock carefully closed the door, and it closed soundless.

But, what Sherlock didn't expect was a small dog barking at the window into John's house. "Shit. John you didn't tell me you have a dog." Sherlock mumbled, walking in tempo now.

"Yeah sorry I forgot." John whispered, wiping away some dry tears with his sleeve while walking. They were almost at Mycroft's car when suddenly there was a loud voice.

"Pongo, shut up!" John's father screamed at the dog. When the dog won't hush, his father stood up and walked towards the window so he can make him shut. His father looked out the window, trying to find the reasoning of the barking. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a tall young male with curly dark hair, helping someone to get into a car. Just when his father wanted to turn around, he recognized the other boy. His son.

"For god's sake." His father cried out, running towards the front door. When the door slammed open, John was already sitting in the back seat. Sherlock looked up, running towards the other side of the car and jumped in. "John!" His father screamed. But too late. The car was driving forwards.

The car drive was silence. John was curled up beside Sherlock, his eyes closed, weeping softly. Sherlock was caressing John's arm in reassurance. Mycroft didn't speak as well. He sometimes briefly looked into the mirror glancing at his brother and John. But he thought, it was better to remain the silent.

When they entered the house, they immediately went to Sherlock's room. Not greeting any parent, for in case they will ask annoying questions. Sherlock leaded John to his bed and John sat down, sitting stiffly on the mattress of Sherlock's bed.

"I'm going after material to clean you up." Sherlock said fondly and pecked John's forehead. John nodded, the corner of his lips upwards. Sherlock disappeared the room and John kept sitting in the same position. Afraid to make any noise to wake up his dad. Even he isn't in his house anymore. A part of John thought he was.

He stiffened as he heard the door slide open, but relaxed as soon as he saw Sherlock standing at the door with a bowl of water and some fresh bandages. John forced a smile at him. Sherlock frowned and entered the room, sliding the door shut behind him. He sat down beside him. He gently cleansed John's wounds, carefully watching John for any evident discomfort.

The wound burned with each pass of the cloth and water, but John would not give it to his weaker impulses and cry out. Sherlock gently smeared something onto the wounds, causing a burning sensation. Sherlock's hand retracted for a moment, before his fingers retuned, gentler than before. "I don't want to hurt you." He said.

"You don't." John whispered, not making eye contact. John cleared his throat. "Thank you Sherlock." He said, grabbing Sherlock's hand. Sherlock stroked John's hand with his thumb. And then he laid the cloth onto the floor and put his fingers onto John's chin and lift it up, so he met his eyes.

"Did you father do this?" He asked gingerly. John closed his eyes, nodding. "John, open your eyes." John listened, opening his eyes. "You're save here, with me."

Sherlock continued taking care of John's wounds, and afterwards he left the room so he can lay the stuff back into the bathroom. When he returned, he saw John lying in his bed. Wrapped up into the sheets. Sherlock smiled, and walked over and laid him beside John. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him in an embrace and held him tightly against his body in an effort to comfort him. Sherlock rubbed his back between his shoulder blades, and held John tighter when he felt John's arms snake around his body to embrace him back. John's face was buried in his chest.

"I love you." John mumbled on his chest. Sherlock looked down, smiling at John, even he could only see John's hair.

"I love you too, always." He said. And both boys fell asleep.

Morning came, but the room wasn't brightened at all. The curtain stopped the sunlight from entering the room. Everything was dark and cold. John's eyes were watery. No matter how many times they cried, those beautiful blue eyes couldn't yet erase the image of that torture. John just laid there in Sherlock's arms.

"Morning my pig." Sherlock said. Surely he got awake from John's strange noises. John chuckled softly.

"Good morning." He replied fondly.

"How are you?" Sherlock asked cautiously. John looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes, lifting his head and leaned forward to place a kiss upon Sherlock's lips. Sherlock kissed John back, lightly before leaning back and raising a brow.

"Does that means you are better?" Sherlock asked, slightly confused.

"No. but being with you... Helps a lot." John said. Sherlock smiled lovely at him. They stay in each other's arms for a while, until it's a good hour to wake up. Sherlock's parents didn't know that John was there. So if they stay in bed the whole day. They definitely will storm in Sherlock's room to check if their son was still alive. Both John and Sherlock were barely saying a word. Sherlock doesn't want to talk about what happened last night. He just want to comfort his John. They need to talk about it. But not now.

[I'm not another Moffat on the planet. I don't hurt friendly hearts. ehehe. <3]