Kleptomaniac (A Johnlock Fanfiction) [2015 Wattys Award Winner]

Chapter Fourteen

Siger is holding a glass of orange juice in between his hands when he hears the words. His eyes are lazy, a balding circle in the midst of a dark bush of chocolate hair, and that hair is ruffled in shock, his lazy eyes made awake, the orange juice spilled on the floor.

There is no warning, there is no prep; Sherlock spits it out as if it were chewing gum, and watches a slow vibration of shock spread throughout his father's body. He was expecting this, honestly: he was expecting the tremors, and the wide eyes beneath a pair of wiry, cold metal eyeglasses. Siger doesn't have compassion. He is an island, and Mycroft takes after him, respectively the sea.

Sherlock always wanted to be like them.

"Father, I'm gay," he says.

He stands before his dad, his hands folded timidly in front of his chest, and bites his tongue to keep the words from flooding out, as he is so wont to do.

I like men, I'm sorry, forgive me, this isn't what you wanted, I know that, I know that, Father. Maybe it'll be different, someday, I'll settle down with a nice girl, one that's pretty, and kind, and that has peppermint green eyes and porcelain skin. Maybe, someday, I'll make you and Mum proud, I swear I didn't want to be like this. I swear to God.

He hears the splash of juice, and the crash of glass, and the gasping whisper. The ache that Sherlock sees in his dad's eyes is all-too-real, and he has to turn away quickly, before it swamps him over and off the island, out into the sea. He's half contemplating saying, "April fools, Dad," but it's too late. Sherlock sees that now.

"What?"

"I like boys."

Siger's mouth doesn't even close. It stays open wide, an incredulousness in his eyes that Sherlock hasn't witnessed since his mother passed away six years ago.

Sherlock fidgets nervously, trying to shelter himself from his father's burning gaze, and then he smiles softly to himself. "I like boys," he says in an airy breath, one that makes Siger snap his mouth shut.

"Your mother would have been ashamed," he hisses, to which Sherlock responds, just as harshly, "I know, Father, and I wouldn't have bloody told you if it weren't for her."

"You're a homosexual?" he barks.

"Yes."

Siger's voice is a coarse, biting snarl. "How could you do this?" he spits, staring accusatorially at Sherlock, who is rolling on the balls of his feet to keep the tension out of his throat.

"How could I do this?" Sherlock mumbles. "How... could I... do this."

"Yes," Siger responds. "How could you? Do you know how much shame you will bring to this household? Your mother will be turning in her g-"

"Don't bring her into this," Sherlock snaps, his voice cracking. "Don't," he says, quieter.

"Do you know... how much time... and energy she spent building our name up, just so you could tear it down with your... your sexual sins?"

"I'm a virgin, for God's sakes, I-" Sherlock takes a long, heaving breath, and closes his eyes as Siger spits rebuke.

"You're probably lying! Just as you always are! You're a liar, Will-"

"That isn't... my name," Sherlock says through clenched teeth. "My name is Sherlock."

"Probably already tarnished the family name. Probably blew some gay in an alleyway when you were too high to rent a hotel room-"