Ghost in This House (JohnLock AU)

This Is Who I Am

A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! Sorry this update took so long!!! This flu is brutal! Anyways...I'm going to slap on a lovely little TRIGGER WARNING on this chapter. It talks about abuse and suicide attempts....Good Luck!!! Enjoy<3

Sherlock hated John Watson.

He hated how nice his new roommate was. He hated that John never mentioned what happened between them. He hated how attractive the older man was.

But mostly, Sherlock hated how much he wanted to be loved by John Watson.

The voice in his head kept it's promise, never letting himself succeed in taking his life again. He hated the reasoning that it used.

"You will hurt John. You promised him you wouldn't hurt him again."

He hated that it worked.

Sherlock spent many days trying to rebuild his mind palace since moving back into Baker Street. He would sit on the sofa and stare endlessly at the walls, ignoring John's pleas for him to eat or sleep.

One day, after nearly a month of being home, John came back from wherever it was he would disappear to and Sherlock decided he had had enough.

"Hey Sherlock, I was thinking maybe we could order pizza tonight? I know a great little place a few blocks from here-"

"How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long did you father beat you?" Sherlock heard the moment his words hit John. His bookbag fell heavily to the chair and the air in the flat turned thick.

"What are you doing?"

"How many nights did you spend, curled under your bed, praying he would forget you existed?" Sherlock's heart was breaking with each harsh word he threw at his flatmate, but he kept going, wanting the young man to feel a fraction of the pain he felt.

"Stop this!"

"What are you doing?" John's voice was tight and angry, trembling with repressed rage.

"How many nights does it keep you awake? The memories of his hands on you? Beating you? Touching you?"

"Please stop."

"You can't do this to him! You're hurting him!" Sherlock stood, standing in front of the shorter man, noticing the tears he was blinking away.

"Did he rape you too? Or did he save that for your little sister?"

"Fuck you."

"John no!" Sherlock grinned darkly, letting an empty laugh fill the space between them.

"Do you ever wonder if you will turn out like him? Beating your kids when you've had too much to drink?" John shook his head, pushing his way around Sherlock and heading for the kitchen. "Oh! That's what your nightmares are about. You imagine yourself beating the person you love. Your little sister. Am I right?"

"Stop it! Why are you doing this? I've done nothing to you!"

"I thought this is what you wanted John? You wanted to be with me, so here I am! This is me! I hurt people and laugh at their pain." He stepped closer to John and grabbed his elbow, spinning him around and throwing him violently against the door frame. The shorter man yelped as his head connected with the wood with a resounding thump. He pressed against John's frame, bringing his lips to John's ear and lowering his voice. "The Sherlock you loved, he isn't real John. He's just a voice in the back of my skull, crying at me about how much he loves you." Sherlock pulled back to find John's face soft with shock.

"S-Sherlock-"

"Your Sherlock Holmes is dead John. Time to move on."

"No." There was an edge to John's voice that sent a chill down Sherlock's spine.

"What?"

"I said, no." Sherlock tried to walk away, but found himself held in place by John's firm hands. Fear filled him as John pushed off the wall, spinning them around and pressing Sherlock against the unforgiving surface.

"S-Stop-"

"Not so fun when you're the one being crowded, is it?" John growled, placing one of his hands against Sherlock's chest and holding him in place. He was much stronger than Sherlock had anticipated. "I know you're in there Sherlock, because if you weren't, this asshole wouldn't know how much I love you."

"John! I'm here!" Sherlock winced at the volume of the voice. John saw and a grin pulled at his lips.

"That's him, isn't it? He's yelling at you, isn't he? He can hear me." John's face lit up in a brilliant smile, and Sherlock's stomach tied itself into knots. "Sherlock, you brilliant bastard! You've got to fight Love. Try and break out of there Babe. Show him your memories Love. Show him us."

"I will try My Love." Sherlock felt an overwhelming pain behind his eyes and pushed his way out of John's grip, stumbling to the bathroom and locking the door.

His entire being was on fire with pain as John pounded on the door behind him.

He had to stop it. He had to escape the pain.

He saw red as his fist went through the bathroom mirror.

He saw white as the sharp glass cut through the skin of his wrists.

"No!"