Johnlock - Do I Wanna Know?

13 - Spilling The Truth

I just want to thank everyone for reading and voting for this story. I started writing it just for fun, and I honestly didn't think it was that great, I still don't think it's that great. But you've all said such nice things about this work and to me, it means a lot. Thank you all so much, and thank you for being patient with me and my slow updates.
Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!❤️

After the men had their little outburst, Mike took John outside. He figured he'd need it, the man was hyperventilating. Sherlock, being himself, just stood there with his eyes wide. That didn't surprise Mike, he just knew he needed to get them apart.
"What was that?" Mike asked.
John heived, bent over with his hands on his knees. "Nothing-" he choked.
"Oh bull shit," Mike spat.
John stood correctly at this. "You know, it's none of your business either way."
Mike was a reasonable man, and he did know that it was none of his business. But he was still a very curious man. "I'm aware, but you can't leave me hanging like this,"
"Forget it, Mike," and with a final snort, John was stomping away.
His old friend stood and watched the man leave. He turned back to St. Bart's and marched all the way back up to Sherlock. The door flew open, and Mike had been planning on forcing the truth out of the young boy rudely, but when he saw the 'worlds only consulting detective' shaking and on the verge of tears, he only rushed to his side.
"Sherlock? What is the matter with you?! I've never seen you in a state like this,"
The younger man held on for support, showing obvious signs of losing use of his legs.
"Was this because of John?"
Sherlock's eyes snapped shut, and he groaned. "Don't, say his name."
Mike felt an overwhelming wave of anger and pity wash over him. "Jesus, what did he do to you?"
The younger man completely fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "I don't want to say," he mumbled.
Mike, sighing and sitting beside him on the cold floor mentally cursed John for what ever he did. "Why?"
"It's a pathetic story I'm supposed to have forgotten. I doubt he'd want me to tell anyone either," Sherlock dropped his hands. His eyes were an aggravated red, and his cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment.
Mike looked away, squirming uncomfortably. He was a bit too old to be sitting cross-legged on the hard tile floor for so long. His back wouldn't allow him even the least bit of comfort. "I'm a friend, I wouldn't go spouting off this story to anyone,"
Sensing the other man's weak back, the detective stood up and helped his friend up as well.
"I don't think I'm ready to share that story yet," he said.
Looking away again, he nodded. "Alright, I'm sorry to have caused the trouble." And with that, Mike was out the door.
~
He was just about to walk out the door when a strong build accidentally bumped into him.
"Oh excuse- Greg?" Mike held a smile once again to be seeing another friend.
"Mike, how have you been? It's been a little while," Lestrade shook the man's hand.
"Oh, lately good. Today, a bit odd to tell the truth."
Greg's eyebrow shot up. "How so?"
"I brought in an old friend, to see if he'd room with Sherlock. You know, he's been looking for a flatmate lately and so was my friend John. I brought him up to the lab, and they both had a fit,"
"Wait, John? Was this John Watson?" Greg's eyes were wide, fear and a little bit of excitement swimming within them.
Mike looked puzzled. "Yes, do you know him as well?"
"Oh my lord. Yeah, I know him, he, Sherlock and I go back."
Taking this as an opportunity, Mike crossed his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't happen to know why they would have freaked out as much as they did when they saw each other then, would you?"
Greg looked around, as if John or Sherlock were watching him. "Well um, when Sherlock and I were in high school, John was our teacher."
"And?"
"They were lovers,"
~
With hearing such news, Mike was shocked. Lestrade suggested they grab coffee, and sit down while he told him of the story.
"See, Sherlock was failing his class. So he started taking this study hall thing, where it was just them everyday after school for a couple hours. I'm assuming that's how they got started, because Sherlock never actually said anything to me. Even though we were best friends, I figured it out on my own."
Mike sipped his coffee, wide eyed, trying to process this new information.
"All I know was that they'd go on dates and all that, and they did end up shagging. I couldn't believe it honestly, but they did. The thing about all this, was that John was always on alert. So much so, that he began acting like he didn't even like Sherlock in the first place. He sent him mixed signals and was actually a complete dick in my opinion-"
"He was cheating on Mary? For how long?" Mike interrupted.
"Almost a year I think. He didn't like cheating on her obviously, but he also didn't like not treating Sherlock right. He was in love with him, might still be if he freaked out like you said. They were really head over heals for each other, but John didn't want to take it too far. Because of cheating on his wife, and being Sherlock's teacher at the time. Anyway, after they shagged he basically broke it off, denied it if their relationship was brought up. All that stuff. Well that caused Sherlock to go off the deep end. He ran away from home. He was missing up until a year and a half ago. I was the one who found him. We were both going to uni, ran into each other. He told me everything,"
"My god," Mike said. "I can't believe it,"
"It is hard to believe, I admit, but it defiantly happened. I had to help John the couple months after Sherlock ran away, it was pretty difficult." Greg sipped his coffee, thinking back to his teenage years with Sherlock.
"I don't even know what to say,"
"Well, I suggest keeping it between you and me, I don't know how either one would react to anyone else knowing. I'd say give them some time,"
"Yeah, I think you're right,"
They sat in silence for a while, pondering while drinking once hot coffee.
~
Sherlock sat alone in 221B.
"You know," he whispered to the skull, voice hoarse from hours of weeping. "I bet this place would feel more like home if he were here,"

And John sat alone in his hotel room.
His fingers curled tighter around the bottle of wine. Silent tears fell down his already pink cheeks. He was drunk, and mumbling things about the one he still loved more than anything.
"I bet-if he were here, it'd feel more like home," was his last slurred sentence, before he fell on the floor.
Out cold.