Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Fifty Two - You Don't See

John

do i make you hard?

John pulled out the soiled bed sheets, and placed the cat on the clean one underneath. He took one disk that he'd never listened to by Sherlock, and then he was out the window and on the porch and running faster than he'd ever run, ever. Harder than he'd ever run in rugby.

He didn't stop until three blocks later, and then, only because he had nowhere to run to. He could've run forever. He should have.

It wasn't Harry. It was me. It wasn't Harry, Jesus fuck, it was me, God, it was me.

He was so close to Sherlock's house - but he couldn't go to his house.

"Hey. Mistake."

John ignored the voice, turning back to look down a road that was completely empty. He could feel himself almost pissing his pants, that's how scared he was. He couldn't even hear anything, not even his brain.

Least of all the voice calling to him. He ducked behind a tree and breathed hard.

"John."

suck me off

John looked up, and then around. He was at Anderson's house... and Sally was there, walking down the driveway, holding a beer. She was speaking, but John couldn't hear.

"Hey," Sally said, looking as disgusted as ever. "You. Your dad's been running around all goddamn night long."

John shivered. He wanted to run, but he had nowhere to go. "What did you tell him?" John said, voice shaking, breaths coming up hard and fast. Sally just smiled and shook her head.

"I asked him if his dick was as big as his ego," Sally said. "I didn't tell him anything."

"Did you tell him about Sherlock?"

Sally's head cocked and her eyes narrowed. "No. Someone's gonna, though."

id take your virgin ass but your not a virgin

A pair of headlights shone from down the block. "Shit," John breathed. "Shit."

He had to hide. He had to... run. He had to do... something. God. He had to get away.

"What's wrong with you, anyways?" Sally asked, stepping closer.

"Shit. Oh, God. Nothing. It doesn't... shit." John backed away as the lights approached.

"Come on," she said. "You need to get out of his way until he cools down." Sally motioned for John to go into the hazy, dark garage, and he almost ran.

"Awh, shit. Is that technicolor... boy?" Anderson was smoking in the back, and John wasn't surprised to see Jim Moriarty with his head in Anderson's lap.

"Yes, darling," Jim drawled. "I think it isssss," and he puffed from a blunt, handing it off to the boy next to him. "Sally," he called, "Sally, Dally, dearest, does Sebastian need to shoot anyone? Because, he's very available, and all. Sort of..." he waved his hands, "pissed. Isn't that right, Sebby?"

The boy to Moriarty's right nodded eagerly and halfway slid out a gun from his waistband. Moriarty stood up from Anderson's lap with a stumbling canter, walking to John with a hysterical giggle: "Daddy wants to see you..."

"Step-dad," Sally said, biting her lip.

"Oh!" Moriarty yelled, dancing. "Step-daddy! My step-dad," he whispered, leaning close to John, "had a thing for knives. And prison. You're in trouble, dearest."