Down. (Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 4 - Friends?

A/N:

Ugh sorry for not updating, I had a lot to do, but I promise I'll be a little more active! :)

Whoops I'm sorry guys for the cliffhanger. I'm such an expert in cliffhangers sorry I couldn't help but put it! =))

Well, new chapter wohooo! Don't forget to PLEASEEE vote and comment and tell your friends if you liked it, it would mean the world to me! <3

-AP xx

John Watson's P.O.V.

I woke up with a start. I was lying in a king sized bed, covered with a fluffy blanket. The walls in the room were covered in red and yellow wallpaper that seemed quite expensive. The furniture was old, made of oak. I glanced a look at my arms-they were bandaged. What had happened?

The events of the day before flashed back into my head, an avalanche of memories, a smile, a blade, blood and curls.

The silhouette of a man appeared in the door. No, it wasn't a man, it was a boy -probably my age- . He approached and I realised it was the famous Sherlock Holmes. I stared at him.

"Well, look who's woken up.", he said and sat down on the bed.

"How long was I asleep?", I asked, looking outside the window. It was night.

"Asleep? Not much - four or five hours. Dead? An hour or two. It's 2 am."

"Dead? What are you talking about?"

"You nearly killed yourself in that bathroom."

"So why am I not in the hospital?"

"Cause those morons in hospitals never take care of people properly."

"Oh and you do?"

"Yes. Look, after those cuts no doctor could have helped you. You are very lucky that I was there."

"Oh my god", I said, jumping out of the bed. "Dad and Harry!"

"No no no, you can't go now, you have to rest!"

"You don't tell me what to do!", I screamed as I got down from the bed. Pain embraced my wrists and I bit my lip, not wanting to scream.

"See?", the Holmes boy said.

"Oh, fuck off, I have to go."

"John", he said, my name sounding so weird on his lips, "It's 2 am. You can't go visit them right now, you have to wait until tomorrow."

"But dad's gonna worry!"

"Well, I think you pretty much gave him a reason to worry."

"It was not my fault!"

"Yes, but the other times was your fault."

The other times. How the bloody hell did he know that?

"What-"

"Yes, John, I know about the fact that you've tried to commit suicide 2 times by now, never succeeded, you are frustrated by the fact that you can't be what your father wants you to be and you are not like your sister, I know that."

"But how-"

"Don't ask. Sleep."

And so I did.

-

When I woke up, the clock on the wall said it was 6 am. I got up from the bed and put my shirt and my pull over back, to cover the bandages so my father won't see them. I took my backpack and opened the door.

There was no sound, just silence as I walked on the corridor and down the stairs. Probably they were asleep.

Or not.

As I rushed out of the front door, I realised two things: it was raining like hell and someone was calling my name - Probably Sherlock- .

I turned to face him, he was standing there, door opened, but he was still in the house.

"Thank you, Sherlock Holmes."

At least that I could say.