All My Loving (teen!lock Johnlock/Mystrade)

Chapter Thirty Two

(A/N- There are sexual abuse references in here so if that upsets you in any way, then I am sorry. It's only a little bit but I thought you should all be warned. Please comment/vote/share/follow! (And if anyone ever needs someone to talk to about sexual abuse or whatever else, feel free to inbox me or anything). Thanks lovelies!

-CH xx)

Chapter 32

Sherlock's POV

I flicked my pencil against my workbook in agitation. I was in mathematics, and it was as tedious as ever. I knew what the teacher was teaching; I learned it during school break when I was seven. All around me, people were talking about Mycroft and Lestrade (or now Lestrade-Holmes).

"... We've no chance with Mr. Holmes now."

"Mr. Lestrade-Holmes now. You remember he married Greg, the former school rugby captain."

"You know I always wondered why Greg was always having meetings in his office... I wonder if it was already going on..."

"I never knew Mr. Holmes was gay. Mind you, I didn't even know Greg was gay. I heard it started after Greg graduated."

"I think they're both bisexual. You know how many girls Greg used to get with. I hear ol' Mr. Holmes got a few himself."

"The iceman? No way!

I stopped listening into the conversations of the girls, who were actually right. Mycroft did get involved with multiple girls, when he was younger. I tried to block those thoughts out, but they kept coming, one after the other. It was too overwhelming. I packed up my equipment and left the class without an excuse or care. 

I went back to mine and John's room, and lay on my bed. Why not think about it? My head told me. Go on, think about it. 

When I was at primary school, when I was bullied, sexually and physically, I used to go visit Mycroft at his house after school, and he would help me with my problems and stitch me up before I went home. He was always so understanding, and I actually cared about him. One day when I went to his house, I had been sexually abused that day, I knocked on the door, battered and bruised. 

*Enter flashback*

I jump out of the cab, tossing a generous amount of money at the cabbie, before staggering up to Mycroft's front door. I put my hand on the knocker and knock five times briskly, and step back a bit from the door. 

The door opens, and a girl in nothing but a sheet is standing there, looking surprised as ever. She gasps in shock as she looks at me, and also because I know that she's been sleeping with my brother. A pair of arms wrap around her waist as she looks at me, and a pair of lips meet her neck, before I see Mycroft look up at me, his piercing green eyes looking at me angrily. 

He gently moves the girl out of the way, and drags me inside, excusing the two of us. I am in pain everywhere, but I cannot complain, because I know he'd hurt me more. I can smell alcohol on my older brother as he pulls me through his house into his bathroom. He is incredibly intoxicated, and I know this is a bad mistake, especially once I know I've interrupted him. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Sherlock?" He hisses, hate clear in his eyes. 

"I-I need h-help, Mycroft."

"Of course you do, Sherlock. You're a joke. A complete freak. I am so sick of you coming around here with your problems. You think you're the only one with problems? You're not." My brother scowls at me.

I burst into tears, and he punches me across the face. I fall to the ground, looking up at my brother. I can't believe he did that. He looks remorseful, but it's too late. I get up and run out, leaving him behind. I can't breathe, and my vision is blacking out, but I run, and I run, and I run, as far away from that Hell as fast as I can. 

*End of Flashback*

I opened my eyes as I heard the door open and close. John looked down at me, throwing his back on the ground carelessly, his eyes searching my body. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine," I tell John, getting up. "I need to go out. I'll be back later."

"Where are you going? Do you want me to come along?"

I kissed my boyfriends forehead and stroked his cheek. "I'd rather you didn't get involved. I'm going to get into a lot of trouble by doing this."

Without another word, I ran down the hallways, through the crowds of students, until I got to the other side of the school where Mycroft's office was. The reception area was empty; not even Anthea was around. I picked the lock of Mycroft's office door, and quietly entered. I sat in his office chair, and hacked his computer. Great. No one would be in his office for the rest of the night. I stood up, and, using all my force, I kicked over his desk, sending his computer and documents flying across the room. I pulled Mycroft's calender, charts, and posters off of his wall, and tore them into shreds. 

I pulled a permanent marker out of his drawer and scribbled all over the walls carelessly. It was dark once I was satisfied with the amount of writing and drawings on the wall, and I turned around to see how much damage I had caused. And then I saw it. The framed picture of Mycroft and I with our parents before he turned into a complete bastard. 

I bent down and gingerly picked up the picture. I straightened up, and without another thought, I hurled it across the room, leaving a dent in the wall where I threw it. I went over to the picture and saw there was only a crack in the glass. It wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. I began to stupidly punch the picture, wishing like anything that Mycroft would pick up some sexually transmitted disease or something. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to pay. I despised him more than anything. No apology or action could make me forgive him. I punched the picture until the glass broke and shards of it stuck in my hands.

I looked down at my bleeding hands and began to cry. I heard a gasp and I looked up to see a bewildered looking John staring down at me. "Sherlock... What have you done?!"

I shook my head and cried harder. John came and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me tightly as I cried into his chest. He shushed me and rubbed my hair soothingly, allowing me to continue crying, even though his shirt was completely saturated. 

Once I had calmed down enough, I told John everything, leaving out no part. He held me even tighter in his arms. "I promise you, Sherlock, I will never leave you. Never, ever, ever. I love you so bloody much it's insane. I am always here if you need me, and I will do anything to see you smile. Never forget that. Never."

"I love you too, John. Thank you."

He kissed my forehead and then stood up. "We should go, though. You need to get your hands sorted out, and we can't be found in here."

"Too late," came a voice from behind us. John and I both turned around to see who had caught us.