Payback || Johnlock

Payback.

Sherlock tapped his fingers against his clothed knee. Tick tock tick tock tic-

...

He was in horrible pain. It had been a week after Culverton Smith had suffocated him. A week after John had beaten him. A week after he was on drugs. A week after he had cried. A year after he had been tortured endlessly. 

...

Knock knock. Sherlock didn't get it. He was sitting in the living room of 221B. Sitting. Doing nothing. Thinking. Thinking was something, wasn't it? Creak. John enters cautiously. Sherlock stands up.

"How are you uh, you know, feeling, Sherlock?" John stumbled over his words as he usually did. Sherlock clenched his fists and closed his eyes. John was a bit, scared. Yes, scared. Sherlock never clenched his fists. Only John and him were in the room. 

"Sherlock.. anything uh.. wrong.. I'm uh you know erm.. sorry." 
John mumbled.

Sherlock was livid. He was too pissed for this. 
"John, go."
Sherlock growled, warning him. His pent up anger ready to pour out at any second, like a lava, spilling its guts everywhere.

"Please Sherlock, I didn't mean to. I'm, I'm really sorry." John said, stiffly. Sherlock bit his lower lip. Sorry? Sorry won't fix all his wounds. Sherlock walked up to him. 

"Get out." Sherlock groaned, warning him for the last time. Leave John please leave I don't want todothispleasepleaseplease pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-

"I-" John tried to whisper out.

Smack.

Sherlock punched John. Hard. You could nearly hear the crack in his knuckles. Wasn't enough.

John fell onto his sorry arse, he was petrified. Not enough.

Sherlock fell onto his knees and grabbed John's collar. "YOU HAVE NO-"

Another punch.

"IDEA"

Sherlock stood up, swiftly.

"WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH."

Sherlock started kicking John against the wall. Reminding him of..

"I'VE BEEN TORTURED. ALL FOR YOU. ALL I GET IS BEATEN?!"

He reminded himself of John. Beating Sherlock. He was John in this situation. 

"YOU ALWAYS HURT ME. DON'T YOU EVER THINK ABOUT ME, THE SOCIOPATHIC FREAK?"

Sherlock's voice broke and sounded muffled as he kicked John again. John yelped out in pain, groaning softly. He fell to the floor near John, sobbing. Everything started sinking in. What had he done to John? He skittered away from him. He stood up, knees almost buckling. He grabbed his black long signature coat, and ran out of the flat as quick as he could. 

"911. Go to Bakers street please. Very injured man. Don't know who. Bye."

...

John was horror stricken. His cheek already gaining a bruise. His nose was bleeding alot, and he was pretty sure he had gotten a fractured rib. He coughed out blood, non stop coughing attack started happening. At first he coughed once. Then he paused. Then he couldn't stop coughing blood out. Ringing in his ears.

He looked up, expecting Sherlock to be there, still pissed, ready to kick him again. No one. He licked his lips to see if he was actually beaten. Yes. Metallic taste in his mouth.

He let things sink in slowly. Tortured? Tortured... when was Sherlock tortured..

Before he had beaten him in Culverton's favorite room..? No.. couldn't have been. He was on drugs, he wouldn't even know he was tortured, probably not.

Other time he had beaten him? ..
When he came back from the dead. But how? When he was gone, while John was grieving, Sherlock was being beat by some other people? Tortured? Raped...? No. Sherlock hadn't been raped, but John was afraid it would be a possibility. 

If he was tortured before he came back, that would mean he beat him right after Sherlock had already endured countless beatings, correct?

John's eyes widened, and he winced feeling the pain come back to his body in a flash.
"Oh bloody fuUuUck AH" He shut his eyes tight, a tear falling out. Fuck. He felt bad. Bad about Sherlock. But he felt bad physically too. Sirens in the distance coming closer he could hear. Nurses ran into the room, observing him quickly.

They carefully, but quickly lifted him onto the stretcher. 

"H-How um, did you, who?" John moaned out.

"An anonymous person, Sir, I advise you not to talk." A nurse said as they loaded him into the ambulance.

John was dead faced. But.. if you squinted hard enough.. you could see the slightest tug on his lips, upwards. A small smile.