Deduce Me

Ten: Redbeard

(Fanart by Shootbadcabbies on Tumblr)

Sherlock

Mycroft grabbed my sleeve, pulling me towards him to whisper in my ear. I should have known he would see through my pretence eventually, but I had hoped I would be able to hide it for longer than a few days. I must be slipping. Either way, I was rather fed up with my brother and his snide remarks and knowing glances between John and I.

As he pulled me down, he threw a glance at John, still sitting wide-eyed and oblivious to what Mycroft was really talking about. Mycroft switched to French, knowing no one else at the table would understand, even if either of them did overhear. "He is gay, you know."

"I don't know what you're talking about. And no, he's not." I hesitated, knowing that Mycroft may be the only person who would understand. And I hated thinking like that. "Caring is not an advantage," I reminded him. I jerked my arm away and stood, just wanting to get out of the room.

As I was a few steps away, Mycroft called out to me again, determined to get the last laugh. "Oh, by the way, Sherlock... Do you remember Redbeard?"

Pain flashed through me before I could stop it. I sucked in a breath to controll myself. A flashback to my childhood ran through my mind:

I opened the door, and heard a woof from the end of the hall. "Redbeard, come here, boy!!" I squealed, excited to see my best friend. He galloped down the hall, and I bent down to grasp at his neck as he leapt at me. I buried my head into his soft, chocolate brown neck, feeling comforted for the first time all day. He licked my face, and I giggled.

It wasn't long after that that my parents had to put him down. I had cried for months afterward. For what good is a pirate without his trusty pirate dog?

I rounded back to Mycroft to see his smug expression. He knew what he was doing to me; he wanted to prove me wrong. "I am not a child anymore, Mycroft," I spat through my teeth. I hid my pain well, behind a mask of murder.

He flicked his eyes knowingly to John. "Yes, I can see that." We both knew what he was referring to, but John was still oblivious to my... Well, for lack of a better word, crush. But that sounds too girly and feminine. And human. Sherlock Holmes does not have a crush. No, not a crush. Merely an overwhelming affection towards my (very straight) roommate.

But what did he mean, John is gay? He's obviously not. I glanced at him. Nothing out of the ordinary... Fed up with Mycroft's lies, I spun on my heel and left, heading for my dorm. Hopefully, John wouldn't follow me.

I need a cigarette.

Back at 221B, I flung myself into the floor to pull out the textbook from beneath my bed. Flipping the cover open, I retreaved my black box from amongst the cut pages. Inside were my pack of cigarettes, a lighter, nicotine patches, and a few needles. I hadn't used any morphine this school year... Not any challenging cases that have come my way. No, no morphine, but I have gone through quite a few packs of cigarettes.

I opened the window and stuck my legs through, climbing out until I was sitting on the ledge. The glare of red from the cigarette was somewhat reassuring, and the smoke burned my throat as I inhaled deeply. A sense of calm washed over me.

It lasted for about 30 seconds.

That's when John came in. He noticed me out on the window ledge, and he immediately ran over, grasping me around the waist to pull me back in. "John!" I tried to speak, but, seeing as I had a mouth full of smoke, it was a bit difficult. I blew it out, away from his face, and he continued to try to pull me back in. "John! What are you doing?!" I wiggled my way back into the room, putting the cigarette out on the ledge and tossing the butt away.

Now that I was back inside, John was considerably more relaxed, and he studdered to explain his minor panic attack. "S-sorry, I was just... It scares me, you being up so high... I don't want you to fall... Wait, hold up. Sherlock, were you smoking?"

"Oh, erm... Yes, yes I was. Problem?" I could see that yes, he did have a problem with me smoking.

"Oh, noooooo, Sherlock, no problem!" He said sarcastically. He turned away in disbelief and noticed something in my bed. "What is that?"

In my haste to light up, I had forgotten to put away my box of shame. I rushed to put it away now, or at least hide it from sight. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," I said.

"Sherlock, that's- I see needles! What is that?!" Oh, he was angry now. Shit.

"Really, nothing... Just a bit of morphine." I mumbled the morphine part, hoping he wouldn't hear.

"Morphine?! What the hell are you doing with morphine?!"

"It helps me concentrate!" We were both yelling, now. Him in anger and surprise, me in defence. "Life is so dull, John. So routine. Sometimes I need to escape. I don't use it often, only on cases and to relieve extreme boredom."

"That is no excuse, Sherlock!" But he was quieting down now. He sighed, running a hand through his adorable hedgehog hair. "How often?"

"I haven't used it at all this year," I reassured him.

"So you're not addicted, then?"

Addicted is such a fickle word. "No, I'm not 'addicted,' per se."

He nodded, relieved. "Please, Sherlock, promise me you won't use it again."

I sighed. It would probably be hard, but... "For you, John... I will try."

"Good. Thank you." As I placed my hand on his bare arm to push past him, I felt his heartbeat flutter beneath my fingertips. I looked up to his face. His pupils blew wide open as he looked at me. What had Mycroft said? He's gay, you know...

How could I have been so stupid? Of course all the signs were there, I'd just overlooked them! And that stupid secret I'd noticed on the first day... I'd known he was hiding something, but I hadn't been interested enough to delve into it further. But my brother had seen it. He's probably known for a while. He is gay, you know... It was like a light at the end of the tunnel. John is attracted to me.

I crashed my lips against his.

(A/N:

Woohoo, double update today!

And even bigger news: they've finally kissed!!!

Expect another chapter very soon.

Laterz...)