Can't go back

10

I woke up the next morning wreathed in Sherlock’s arms. We had shifted during the night so his face was directly in front of mine. He was still asleep, deep breaths tickling against my nose and lips. I was tempted to lean forward and brush those open lips to mine, but he looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake him or anything. I was warm. I was comfortable. I was happy.

And then reality set in.

It was a slow progression. I started thinking about break. The weather outside didn’t show it, but Christmas was a little over a month away, and along with it a break from school. No classes. No studying. Just relaxing. Of course, I would have to leave Sherlock. We had only been rooming together a couple months, but I hated to leave him. And then there was the fact that I would be going home. Where my dad was. The first couple days wouldn’t be too terrible. They would be welcoming me back and though dad would make comments it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. It was likely he wouldn’t be too bad for that. And with break starting so late in December, Christmas wasn’t long after break started. Dad would do his best to be pleasant for the holiday. It was after that that worried me. I wished I could just stay here with Sherlock.

Oh god, Sherlock! What if my dad found about him- about us? I recoiled instantly from Sherlock next to me as I thought about it. I was dating a guy. There was no way my dad would accept that! He had enough issues with me without being gay! I sprang up from the bed and began frantically pacing our small room. I was starting to have trouble breathing at a slow rate. I tried to calm down, but it was failing miserably. I could practically hear him shouting already. His drunken breath reeked around me. I was practically hyperventilating now. Any attempts to calm myself failed, ending with me just making things worse. His hands shoving me, fist hitting my skin-

"John?" Sherlock’s voice was worried despite the tired yawn. "Are you alright?" I stopped frozen. I wanted to move but didn’t think I could. "F-fine Sherlock," I said, though with my voice shaking it was very unconvincing. "Go back to sleep." Sherlock must have caught the wobble in it too, because I heard him stand up and walk towards me. I closed my eyes as he came near, cursing myself for the small wetness gathering between the lids. Stop it. Stop being stupid, crying won’t do anything but make you look weak.

"What’s wrong?" Sherlock asked, walking up close behind me. His hands snaked around my waist as his chest pressed against my back while he tried to calm me.

"This! I can’t-" I swallowed thickly, trying to form words. "What happens when my dad finds out?" The question came out quietly almost a whisper. I looked down at my feet, a habit that I had when I was nervous or scared.

"John?" One hand removed itself from my waist and went to my jaw. Sherlock turned my head to look back at him. "We don’t have to tell anyone. He doesn’t need to know. Nobody does."

"I can’t do that to you. I’m sure you want to tell people."

He shrugged. "It would be nice. But I’m not going to let him hurt you." Sherlock leaned forward just enough to barely brush his mouth to mine. I craned my neck back for more but he pulled away, releasing me from his arms. "Go on, get ready or well be late for classes."

I rolled my eyes. "Haha. Nice try, but you’re always late anyways. I might as well enjoy myself a little."

***

It was when I came back from classes about a week later. Sherlock had skipped last period yet again, though at this point that wasn’t a surprise. "Why weren’t you in English?" I asked as I came in, plopping my school stuff by the door and kicking off my shoes. "Sherlock?" I prompted when he didn’t respond right away.  When he still didn’t answer I turned to look at him.