John's POV
Smack! That's the noise ot made when my father's hand hit my face.
"What the fuck do you mean you don't want to play football?!?!" Smack!
"I said I didn't want to do it as a career! I want to be a doctor," I cried out. Smack!
"A fucking doctor, huh? Well, then I'll give you some wounds to practice on!" He reach for the knives. Luckily, he was drunk so he was clumbsy. This gave me enough time to make a run for my room. I shut and locked the door. Quickly, I packed everything, which wasn't really a lot: clothes, books, phone, charger, and my prized possesion my laptop. Once it was all inside my suitcase, I took for for the door.
He lunged for me, but luckily, do to his intoxication, fell over screaming at me to get back. I was walking down the street, when I realised, I didn't know where to go. Click. Ring.
"John?"
"Hey, Harry. I uh, I need a place to stay,"
"Where are you? I'll pick you up right now,"
"Uhh, I'm infront of...221b Baker st." That's when He bumped into me. The boy that would change my life forever. His curly black hair, eyes that you can only describe as gorgeous, his beautiful cheekbones. Sherlock Holmes.
