My Saving Grace

Chapter 8

He opened his window without a second thought and jumped out. Sherlock didn't stop moving until he found John sitting in an alleyway with his head in his hands.

"John?" He asked softly crouching so he was eye level.

The boy looked up.

Sherlock fought the urge to flinch.

Blood covered his torn shirt. His left eye was swollen shut and his lip was busted open. His hands were bloody the knuckles raw and torn.

John jumped up at the sight of Sherlock all feelings of panic gone.

Pulling off his coat he wrapped it around John's shoulders and led him wordlessly to Baker street.

Mrs. Hudson was making tea when she heard them come in.

"Sherlock?" She asked

"Bring tea to my flat Mrs. Hudson and a first aid kit." He said leading John up the stairs.

Once inside, Sherlock flicked on a light and pulled his coat off of John further inspecting the boy.

"What happened?" He asked even though he already knew.

John had fought back.

"I came home from work early. They let me off. I came home and there was yelling. He was yelling at Harry. And when I came inside he was screaming in her face and he hit her. I just lost it, Sherlock. I don't know what happened. One moment I was at the door and the other I was flying at him throwing punches.

"I was so angry I kept hitting him. I heard my sister screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't. He kept swinging so I did the same. I stopped when he stopped moving and ran."

Wordlessly, Sherlock went to the kitchen and emerged with a pair of scissors. Reaching out he cut the fabric of John's shirt down the front.

"I liked that shirt," John whispered

"It was already ripped," Sherlock muttered pulling the fabric from John's body. There were bruises all over. Some green and yellowing but several fresh new ones dark and bloody revealing the truth of the night.

There was a knock at the door. Sherlock opened it and let Mrs. Hudson in without a word, then he returned to John and continued looking. A vicious gash covered his eyebrow leaving a trail of drying blood down his face.

"Oh, my." Mrs. Hudson gasped at the sight of the boy.

"First aid kit," Sherlock said holding his hand out. "Lead him to a chair I'll be back."

He closed the bathroom door behind him and gripped the edge of the sink. The urge to hurl was overwhelming.

Get it together Sherlock. He told himself.

Splashing his face with water he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and left.

Mrs. Hudson had a blanket around John's shoulders and a cup of tea in his hand.

Sherlock shoed her away and went to work. Pulling a needle and thread from the kit he began.

"This will hurt." He warned John beginning his stitching.

John didn't flinch once. He sat there staring straight ahead out the window. He didn't move until Sherlock pulled him from his seat and pushed him to the bathroom.

"Shoes." He said leaning around John to start a bath.

John obeyed removing his shoes.

"Socks."