A/N I'm putting a new perspective on things now, hope it's okay! Gen xx
(John's POV)
Unpacking into the new flat was exhausting. Sherlock's junk was e-ve-ry-where! I wanted some fresh air and a good cigarette. Damn, I needed it. But suddenly, voices in my head started arguing.
No, John, snap out of it! They'll kill you one day!
Oh go ahead, it's just one after all...
Pfft yeah, that's what he said 2 years ago and look where that got him!
It's only a cigarette. There are worst ways to go.
John, don't do it, please?
I think the angel forcing me out of it was Sherlock and the demon talking me into it was Frank. Both were very close to me, but I decided I would stick with my angel. Sherlock would hate reading my thoughts, he always told me that he wasn't an angel, only on their side. To me that was bullshit. Everyday he wakes up, practically with a bloody halo on his head! Not to mention heavenly white wings. I could just see Frank scowl at my conclusion. He knew what my answer would have been 2 years ago.
I froze. I never wanted to remember my past, especially not 2 years ago... The stealing, the smoking, the cutting, the drinking, the drugs, the... obsession with death and a spiral of lies would ruin me. If Sherlock found out, he would leave me forever. That was something that could never happen. Most of the scars on my lower arms have healed except one. A big, angry red slash, narrowly missing my veins. I unfortunately remember that story; one day I just lost it. I felt like no one cared about me and the world was better off if I died, so I slashed and dug into my skin in a poor effort to kill myself. Suicidal teenagers do stupid things.
And if Sherlock knew that 2 years ago I was the dumbass responsible for more than half of the theft cases at Scotland Yard, he'd leave me for good. That was my weakness... separation. I couldn't bare to part with him or else that suicidal cycle would start rolling all over again. That bad part of me would corrupt my mind, and I really would go insane.
"John?!" Sherlock shouted at me.
"What?"
"I've been trying to communicate for over 15 minutes!"
"Sorry, I-I just tuned out."
"Okay." He enveloped me into a hug.
"Mm, that's nice."
"Hey," He pulled away, rubbing my forearms, "Angelo's?"
"Sure thing!"
We strolled down to the restaurant, which was a bit of a trek considering we'd moved. I looked at the rows of neatly cut hedges of people's gardens, the house walls coloured a doll house pink or pale daisy yellow or duck egg blue with white trimmings. They looked so artificial it might as well be in a Barbie film. However, I noticed there was one house on the corner which was different. The unmaintained garden was littered with crushed beer cans and used cigarettes, the walls painted gothic black and dark purple and red. It looked like something from a Tim Burton movie. I glanced at the door. It had some scruffy carved writing on it which I strained my eyes to see.
'Gerard and Frank's Little House of Hell'.
No, I thought. Surely it's not... their house. Could it be? My old school friends before I moved to Baskerville High? I think I am going crazy.
"Is everything ok? You seem a bit off, John." Sherlock had noticed I wasn't acting normal. Damn his intellect.
"Everything's perfect. I'm just so excited about sharing the flat that I've kinda zoned out over the past week." I said, lying through my teeth. Of course I was ok, it's just the daunting inevitability of separation every second of every day ticking like a clock in my head. Of course I was ok, I was fine.
"Good." He replied as we sat down in our favourite window booth and ordered our food.
"I need to go to the bathroom, I'll be with you in a sec." He said, his long slender legs brushing past me as he dodged all the tables and chairs to the men's room. I felt a bit awkward; a random guy, sitting alone in a restaurant wasn't the best scenario to be in. I looked around a bit, clearly agitated and fidgety. I looked to the left of my booth to see if Sherlock was coming back, but instead I found two people in a booth. Both from 2 years ago. I immediately walked over to them. They had both menus up to their faces.
"Ready to take your order?" I said in an overly-pompous-posh-waiter-voice. They both glanced up at me, then there eyes widened.
"Long time, no see mate." Frank smirked, shaking my hand.
"JOHN! It's you! Oh my god where have you been?!" Gerard screeched, throwing me into a bear hug and pushing me into a seat. "Details, details!" He said excitedly, attempting to pry the answers out.
"Well, I moved schools twice, almost stopped smoking and I've moved to a flat with my... Boyfriend." I was reluctant to say 'boyfriend', thinking it would start another riot.
"Ooh la la!" Frank squeaked.
"How about you two, then?"
Gerard held up his and Frank's fingers and pointed to a pair of beautiful, silver matching rings on their fingers.
"You're engaged! Oh, I'm so happy for you!" I said, their faces beaming at me, "Is that your house over there?" I asked, pointing to the gothic corner building.
"Yep," Gerard said, evidently proud of it. I began wondering if he had painted it. I did seem his... style. "Come visit tomorrow, if you want." That offer instantly made me feel better.
"Yeah sure I'd love to! Anyway I have to go, my boyfriend's gonna arrive anytime soon, but it was great to meet ya!"
Frank waved. "See ya round, Johnny-Boy!"
"Bye!"
