And Together We Fell (prev. "Teenlock") - An AU Sherlock/Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter 20

"Well, me and a couple of mates overheard these other guys talking, and apparent Mycroft and Greg are gay for each other. It true?"

I saw John stare intently at him, obviously deciding what to say and what actions to perform.

"Well, I wouldn't know, would I?" He said, keeping his face a deadpan, not revealing what was going on in his head; only I could read his thoughts in his expression.

"Well, yeah you would, wouldn't you? I mean, we're both on the football team, but your roomie's Mycroft's brother."

At this point, I stepped into the frame, and stood behind John.

"Anderson." I acknowledged him, not bothering to hide my distaste in him by curling by lip and staring down at him.

"Holmes." He growled at me. "Your brother gay?"

"Does this matter concern you?" John inputted, staring up at Anderson, whom of which was the same height at me.

"Hey, I was talking to Holmes here, John. Keep out." Anderson focused his appalling attention back on me, unfortunately. "Is Mycroft Holmes a fag, then?"

"Anderson, you should probably leave." John, went to close the door, but Anderson stuck his foot in.

"For Christ's sake John, I was asking Sherlock. Piss off!" He looked at me. "Well, then?"

I didn't speak.

"Oh, just piss off Anderson. Do us all a favour, and leave us and Mycroft alone. Thanks." John spoke us, and moved in front of me once more to shut the door, this time almost slamming it.

But it flew open again, from the momentum.

"Oh for God's sake, John." Anderson pushed John to the side, apparently so he'd face me properly. The only thing I registered was John being knocked against the wall, hitting his head on the shelf. That was all it took for me to step forward, aim, and punch Anderson squarely on the nose. His head rocked back, and I followed it with an uppercut to the chin, fury channelling its way through my fist. His friends stumbled back as Anderson toppled backwards, and collapsed on the floor, sitting on it with the most ignorant look of confusion on his face. I promptly shut the door and locked it.

"John. John, are you okay? Are you okay?" I spun around, and stepped forward to take him in my arms. He muttered something, and I leant back immediately, and checked his head for signs of trauma, cuts, abrasions or concussion.

"Sherlock, I said I'm fine," he mumbled, but I didn't believe him for one second. I put my hands on his shoulders, and leant back slightly so I could see his face. He looked hurt and in pain, but he was attempting to hide it behind a false façade, and that one fact that I did this stood out in my cluttered mind, filled and brimming suddenly with guilt.

My first experience of this new, raw emotion.

"Oh John, I'm so sorry." I pulled him in to me, and felt his arms wrap gratefully around me. I pushed my face into his hair, breathing in his scent with regret. "I did this to you. If only I had spoken up; why the hell did I not speak? If I had spoken he wouldn't have done this to you." Unfamiliar feelings, that felt bad, were in the pit of my stomach, and I held onto him tightly, not wanting to hurt him again. He was the first person to have ever have acknowledged me this way, and the last thing I wanted to do was make my actions lead towards him getting hurt.

"Sherlock, honestly... I'm fine." I heard him muffle into my shirt, and I still didn't let go. I didn't know what my emotions were doing, but all I knew is that I wasn't to let go of the one thing that meant something to me. "Sherlock..."

"What?" I answered, his face in my chest, and my head in his hair, the guilt still swirling inside of me, refusing to go away.

He didn't say anything for a while. My natural impatience was slowly growing, but I forced it and kept it down. I heard him breathe deeply, and took it as a signal that he was about to speak.

"Listen, Sherlock, I know it was a few months ago, but--"

He was interrupted by a knocking at the door.

"Go away!" I yelled at the door, wanting John to keep speaking, not knowing and not caring who it was. However, we heard a very audible sigh from the other side of the door.

"Sherlock, let me in." I felt slightly startled when I realised it was my brother Mycroft, since he sounded normal, if not bored, but I hadn't recognised his knocking pattern. As I unwillingly broke away from John to unlock the door, I replayed the knocking in my head, and realised it was faster than usual, as if he was hurrying. "Hurry up, dear brother." My thoughts were confirmed, and I unlocked the door and saw Mycroft standing there, as if he didn't have a care in the world. But I knew my brother, and I saw pain and slight confusion in his eyes.

"Come in," I murmured, and shut and locked the door behind him as he stepped in. I stayed standing up by the other side of the door as John sat down.

"So," Mycroft began, looking around the room feigning interest, before focusing his attention on John and I, "I've gathered you've met Anderson already." He looked at John, who was blinking slightly, and his gaze also flickered to my slightly red knuckles. "Care to explain? Anderson and his friends came to my dorm, explaining how you gave an unprovoked attack on Anderson, and that you were under the influence of alcohol; but I can see that didn't happen, so what did?"

I sighed, and decided to get straight to the point.

"Anderson and co. came in, asked whether you and Greg Lestrade were in a sexual relationship, wouldn't leave when asked to multiple times by John, which resorted to him pushing John into a shelf and I to hit him."

He fell silent for a few moments, and appeared to sag for a moment, before finally looking up. "So. It's as I feared. A few people have previously come up to me recently and has asked about the matter, some adequately, some not so, to which I simply ignored. But now the news that Anderson now knows..." He looked to the ground, and I suddenly felt a twinge of sadness curl up inside of me. Is this what would happen to John and I? Would we be verbally and physically abused?

"What are you planning to do on the matter?" I asked, noticing that he was also not getting more than 2 hours sleep at night from seven days ago onwards. I leant forward slightly.

"Nothing. For the moment. We'll let them decided on what they want to think, and when the time is right, Greg Lestrade and I will tell everyone the truth."

I frowned, but relented. "Fine." We looked briefly at each other, and he swiftly turned, and unlocked the door with the key on the table, and shut it behind him. I immediately glanced at John, who I noticed had been increasingly becoming woozy and tired. "John, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Sherlock, I'm just... tired." He blinked his eyes, and clumsily stood up, and began to stumble his way to his bed. He stumbled over a textbook, and I jolted up and ran to him, holding him up by his shoulders. I was becoming increasingly worried, and the quick solutions of what to do vanished from my mind.

I decided to place him in the bed, and holding him under the shoulders I gently push him into the bed, decided against the ridiculous idea of placing the duvet over him, due to the warm and humid temperature. I hesitated, and kissed his cheek, a tactic I had learnt from the crap television John made me watch on the laptop. Before I could fully pull away, I felt a hand tug clumsily at my collar, and glanced down at John. His eyes were closed, but his hand was hanging limply onto my collar. He didn't say anything, but I could guess easily what he wanted me to do.

I climbed in, fully clothed, onto the bed, and I led down next to him, his head tucked under my chin. I felt his hand clumsily pull at mine, and I grasped it in my own. Somehow, I was beginning to be overcome with a sudden tiredness, and attempted to pull out of it before I sank any deeper. But, somehow, I couldn't. Because, I realised, I wanted to stay here forever.