•Teenlock•Parentlock• If All Else Fails

7• Another Disasterous Dinner.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked. He took John's hand as the taxi driver turned the radio up.

"Nothing, just nervous I suppose." John said, squeezing Sherlocks hand.

"Don't be." Sherlock said, then he looked out the window, deep in thought. He groaned in frustration.

"What are you thinking about, Sherlock?" John asked.

"It's still irritating me." Sherlock moaned. "The first one."

"The first what?" Asked John.

"The first male carrier of course!" Sherlock said, drumming in his lap.

"It's no one Sherlock!" John sighed. "They'd have told us..."

"No." Sherlock said through clenched teeth. "What's it like in your funny little brain? It must be so relaxing not being me." Sherlock almost boasted.

"What do you mean?" John snapped.

"You look, John but you don't observe." Sherlock explained, turning his attention to the window again.

John huffed and scrolled through his phone. "Even after you father my kids you are still an arrogant asshole to me, Sherlock." John sighed.

"Even after you father my kids you still don't get me, John." Sherlock retorted sadly. John almost burst into tears. "Sorry." Sherlock said, tears brimming in his eyes. "You know me better than I know myself. Im sorry."

"No I'm sorry." John said, wiping his eyes. "Though you were being a little bit of an asshole." John giggled through his choked sobs. "I hate it when we fight."

"Agreed." Sherlock said, hugging his boyfriend. "We better get friendly quickly." Sherlock smiled. "We're almost there."

••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Sherlock!" His mother exclaimed, a massive fake smile right on her face. "Hello John!" She said, happily nodding at him.

"Hello Mother." Sherlock said, pushing past his mother, John in hand, to get into the house. He half expected to see Mrs Hudson walk around the corner, moaning about the noise with a vacuum in her hands.

"Hi again Mrs Holmes." John said as Sherlock pulled him past. He caught a glimpse of Mycroft and Annabelle in the kitchen sipping some posh wine. Was Annabelle stupid? Even John could deduce Mycroft didn't want to be there.

The house was massive, as both boys remembered. John had only once caught a glimpse of Sherlocks father. He looked very serious and grumpy. He looked a lot like Mycroft, whereas Sherlock took after his mother. Sherlock sighed as he opened the dining room door. Sherlocks father was sat at the table, an expensive looking scotch in front of him.

"Father." Sherlock said, his voice showing no emotion. "This is my boyfriend John." John found Sherlocks hand, it was shaking, but he squeezed John's hand tightly, as if he never wanted to to let go.

"Hello John, I'm Sherlocks father." He said, not looking up.

"Nice to meet you sir." John said. The man looked up, not hiding the disgust on his face.

"May I talk to my son alone for a second, Please?" He asked. The old man sat tall. John figured he was trying to intimidate him. It wasn't working. All John saw in front of him was a broken man who wanted to live through his sons. What he wanted had crashed down and could never be sculpted back together. Deep down, Mr Holmes knew this. But in no way would he let it show.

"Certainly." John confirmed, turning to leave the room. Sherlock smirked and kissed John's cheek.

"See you soon." He whispered.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

And just like that, Sherlock was alone with his father. He looked to the corner. That corner. There was still a dent in the wall from where his head would crash down into it. They must have changed the carpet, there wasn't blood on it anymore.

Sherlocks father slowly stood up and walked towards him. "Look what you've become." He said, standing right in front of Sherlock. "You're an abomination, you know that. You got a man pregnant. A man. It disgusts me. He's a freak! And your job! What is it? A detective? Ridiculous! You could be earning so much in the family business! You had everything Sherlock! You can still have everything! Just be bloody normal! You freak!" That stung. Sherlock remembered being kicked down, being called a freak as his father would kick him while he lay crying in agony. But Sherlock felt strong now. He'd protect himself. He'd protect everything.

"I am not a freak." Sherlock said.

"What?" Sherlocks father asked, shocked his son had spoken back to him. Or spoke to him, full stop.

"I am NOT A FREAK!" Sherlock yelled. Sherlocks father raised his fist had planted it dead on Sherlocks nose.

"I Don't care how old you are Sherlock!" The man screamed at him. "You will not disobey me and you will not speak back to me!" He grabbed Sherlocks shoulders and attempted to throw him into the corner. That corner. Sherlock let out a scream as years and years of painful memories turned into reality once again.

"No!" He yelled. "I will not let you do this again! I will not stand by as you hurt me again!" He said, tears pouring from his eyes. He staggered forwards and slapped his father hard in the face. The man fell to the floor just as Mycroft and John burst through the door. Sherlock sat in the corner, his hands on his temples, rocking back and forth. John ran to him and put his arms around him. His heart pounding with anger and devastation.

Mycroft stood at the door. He bit his tongue. He had seen this sight too many times. His brother, crying in that corner. He helped his father to his feet. The man was still in shock. Mycroft smirked.

"I'm gay, father." He smiled. "His name is Gregory Lestrade and he's the love of my life." And he left, followed by John and a crying Sherlock.