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softgayjohnlock-blog · 9 years ago

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“It’s too late, John”

Summary:

Sherlock and John Holmes decide it's time to adopt a child. The problem, the final problem, is that Sherlock has a secret to hide. Will it stop him from being fit to be a parent?

trigger warnings: self-harm (sort of graphic ish), suicidal thoughts, internalized and open homophobia, depression, bullying (sort of)

221b wasn't in it's best state that afternoon. John had gone out to buy himself and Sherlock a few clothes (alone, since Sherlock had of course been 'busy'), Mrs Hudson was playing Cluedo without a care in the world (which was quite rare, as she would usually come in to check on Sherlock every once in a while), and Molly had come to the flat to give Sherlock a post-mortem review, while Molly's girlfriend, DI Hopkins, analysed the murder report with him.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, 6 ish?" Molly proposed.

"'Course love. Can't wait." replied Stella, with a hidden wink. She walked up to the side table, grabbed her many folders, and walked out after exchanging a smile with Molly.

Sherlock had been sitting on his chair the entire time, carefully observing both Molly and Stella's every move. He enjoyed watching a certain type of relationship. The type which he and John were involved in. 'The great wonders of homosexuality' Sherlock often quoted from an apparent book. With elegance and his fingertips placed on his cheekbones, he would slowly tilt his head from side to side, deducing every move, every breath, until Stella had left the bijou flat, allowing him to begin conversing with Molly.

"You and DI Hopkins. How long?" "3 months. Not quite as long as you and John of course, but then again, we aren't-" "-married. Yes, quite." Sherlock interrupted. He smiled to himself as he remembered his and John's wedding, but this smile quickly faded with a gentle pull down of his sleeves and an inaudible sigh. He proceeded in closing his eyes, allowing Molly to sort out the post-mortem details in the kitchen. She looked back at Sherlock to check he was still asleep, before closing the door behind her and leaving the flat.

Sherlock in fact had not been asleep. The moment he heard the door to 221b close fully, he gently opened both eyes, his spine still slumped onto the sofa. His sighs were heavy now. 'Bored!' he thought. Boredom began to consume him; he had been tapping his feet onto the floor for a few minutes now, finally deciding to pick up his phone from beside him.

*2 missed calls*. From John. And a text.

*Hi :) I'll be a bit late, your wonderful (irritating) brother decided to force me to visit him again. He talked about all kinds of things, the usual. God I hope I didn't miss anything important, it got a bit boring after a while. Something about your coffee habits? You don't even drink coffee. Who does that man think you are?! Oh and something about Eurus... or Euros? Could've been talking about Brexit for all I know. Sorry I was so tired and didn't listen, maybe I should've. If this coffee case, or the Euros(?!) situation means anything to you, thank GOD. I hope everything's okay, love you. See you at 5 :) x (if there's no traffic!)*

Sherlock glanced at the clock. *16:47*. He put his head in his hands and continued to sigh.

Coffee. Eurus. Coffee. Eurus. Coffee. Eurus. Coffee. Eurus. Coffee. Eurus. Coffee. Eurus.

Eurus.

"EU-" he was about to exclaim to himself, when a strong thud at the door stopped his words.

Sherlock's head tilted up incredibly quickly, almost as if it had become a natural reflex. He was frightened, but he knew he shouldn't have been. There was no reason to be, right? He slid his phone into the left pocket of his cardigan. After crossing his legs, his brain had decided he should just stop being frightened, and at least pretend to keep cool.

He crossed his hands, and with a fake self-assured tone, spoke. "Make sure the case is interesting, I'm currently not in the best state for boring cases. I need excitement. Now, do come in."

Nothing.

"Oh for God's sake" Sherlock muttered, his confidence building up again. He places his hands onto the sides of the chair, lifted himself, and began walking to the door. Placing his right hand into his pocket for elegance, he used his left hand to swing the door open.

Nobody.

"Don't be silly. Why are you hiding? We all know you've been doing that for too long anyway. Haven't you... Eurus?" Sherlock secretly hoped, as much as he feared her, that it would be Eurus, in order to avoid embarrassment.

Silence.

Sherlock had had enough. He closed the door slowly, and was about to turn around. Mid-turn, he glanced at his chair, and immediately jumped a little. Why was she on his chair? Who was this... child?

Not Eurus, of course. This child looked around 10 months old. A chill ran down Sherlock's spine as he predicted exactly what was to come next. With a quick check that his sleeves were fully down again, he looked back at the door. He was right. The figure was somehow standing there, AND somehow got a baby into the flat- all without Sherlock realising.

John Watson. He smirked a little with his eyes glowing, first looking at the child, then at Sherlock.

"Rosie" he said. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. He knew what was happening, but pretended to be confused to prolong the process. He couldn't quite believe what was happening, and quite frankly, he didn't want to believe it.

"Sherlock? You knew she was coming, I shouldn't have made it this obvious. She's gorgeous, Sherlock, absolutely gorgeous. The adoption company were still iffy about her being adopted by a gay couple though. For goodness sake, it's 2017!! But they let us Sherlock, they let us, and just LOOK how-" John wanted to continue, but was interrupted by Sherlock, as per.

"John I... she's gorgeous. I can see how great of a personality she has, and I love you for doing this without me, as a cute surprise. Honestly. There's just... one thing..." he trailed off, barely able to finish his sentence. He breathed heavily, everything became a little dizzy. John immediately hugged Sherlock, squeezing him a little tighter than usual, only letting him go after 3 minutes. He just wanted Sherlock to be happy.

But Sherlock couldn't be happy. Not now. It wasn't Rosie's fault, of course.

"It's my fault, John. I can't tell you why, but it's all my fault. I'm sorry."

John seemed confused. What was Sherlock talking about? He tried to 'deduce' him, as it were. One thing he quickly caught was Sherlock constantly pulling down and holding onto his long shirt sleeves. At first, this seemed like nothing, Sherlock did this all the time.

Sherlock did this. All. The. Time.

"Sherlock... come here again. I can't let you go, not now" he opened out his arms to give Sherlock another hug, and Sherlock came in for one. John's next steps were already planned. He slowly moved his hands down to Sherlock arms. Suddenly, Sherlock was not longer in John's arms hugging him. He knew exactly what John was doing, and couldn't bear the thought.

"I... need to go. Case. Yes, many cases. Thank you for adopting Rosie after last week's conversation, and sorry for being a bit shit. Now. A case!" "Sherlock- stop." John cared incredibly, but 'desperate times call for desperate measures' was one of his main motto's, to Sherlock dismay. With a quick glance, he made sure Rosie was asleep, which she was.

John took a deep breath, thought 'I'm sorry, Sherlock. I really am', and, as Sherlock was walking off, grabbed his right arm. Sherlock froze, which confused John. He had assumed Sherlock would fight back for whatever reason. But he had just frozen.

Tears slowly began to roll down Sherlock's eyes. He really didn't want John to know about his past, his present or his planned future. But he had given up, he was too weak to stop him any longer.

John undid Sherlock's shirt button, sighed, and slowly began to roll up the sleeve to reveal Sherlock's bare arm. Much to John's horror, it wasn't just what he had feared. It was much worse. Scars, in every possible gap, filled Sherlock's arm. Purple, red, white. Big, small. John couldn't believe what he was seeing, and while he wanted to state aloud how shocked he was, he decided it would be best to keep that to himself for now. A tear rolled down his cheek. He cared about Sherlock so much, and wouldn't believe that his own husband was doing this to himself. He was beautiful, intelligent, getting much more kind every moment of every day. Sure, he wasn't perfect, but that's what made him so precious to John. He was human. One of John's tears fell onto Sherlock's arm, onto a fresh wound, causing him to flinch.

A fresh wound.

John began to estimate how fresh it could've been. A few days old? No. Yesterday? Not quite...

Today. A couple of hours at most- when John was away. Guilt hit him like a bullet. He had gone, allowed Sherlock to harm himself, and now he was bombarding him with the burden of a child.

'So that's why Sherlock was sorry...' John realised. But Sherlock wasn't just sorry.

He was scared that he wasn't fit to be a father yet, and feared he never could be. Not while he was harming himself. But worst of all, Sherlock thought he wouldn't stop hurting himself. That he would never be a suitable father for Rosie.

Ever.

John felt a little tug as he held onto Sherlock's arm. He looked up, and saw Sherlock's tears uncontrollably flowing, but with no sound, and no facial expression. Sherlock's face was blank. He was numb, lifeless. John decided it would be best if he let go now, he didn't ever want to torture his husband after all. The moment he let his fingers gently remove themselves from Sherlock's scarred arm, he could sense Sherlock's urge to run. To run, and never return; to escape... quite literally. "Please. Sherlock..." John barely caught his breath, and now moved his fingers to Sherlock's greasy, ruffled hair. They were both frozen again now, and all that moved was Sherlock's eyes. From looking at the floor, he slowly guided his eyes to John's and analysed every aspect of his eyes. A sudden flashback to the night of John and Sherlock's wedding, of wedding vows, of passionate kisses and intimate hugs and--- Guilt.

* 2 years ago // John and Sherlock's wedding day: 8am *

Violins, pianos, cellos, flutes, bassoons, clarinets. Just some of the many instruments set up to play at the wedding. The order of the day was mapped out, perfectly calculated. It was to be the most wonderful, beautiful celebration that any of the guests should ever witness in there lives. All set up by Mrs Hudson. There would be-

"An introduction of flutes!! Oh wonderful, and then the teacakes can come while the violins play, and THEN when the main wedding cake is served, the bassoons, piano and clarinet can join- I've even designed the cute men, edible of course, that'll stand on the cake!! My boys. Getting married. MY boys!! Oh brilliant, I can finally show that idiot brother of yours that you have a heart, thanks for proving my point Sherlock"

That idiot brother. Mycroft Holmes, of course.

That idiot brother.

Sherlock had started getting dressed at around 11am that morning. Slowly buttoning up his crisp white shirt, the excitement was building up inside of him. A day with the love of his life, getting MARRIED to him, and a day without Mycroft to beat him down to the pulp with his words. It would be the best day of Sherlock's life. Best of all:

A guest list of people himself and John truly cared about.

Mrs Hudson

Molly

Lestrade

Sherlock's parents

Major Sholto

Harry (who would most likely not turn up)

Stella

A few of Sherlock's homeless network (John was not convinced)

The friends and family of all the above - an estimated 100 more people.

The guests were to arrive in a few minutes, it was all very exciting. Suit polished on, Sherlock headed towards the door. He gently twisted the handle, and left his temporary room- part of the many rooms in the grand building they had hired for the wedding. The spiralling staircase led on to the main hall. Flowers, bees and science. The 3 elements which made up the design of the room, of course designed by Mrs Hudson. She did, after all, have a secret talent for things like this. Sherlock began to slowly head down the stairs, a little terrified he would mess up the vows, or trip up, or begin talking about a case.

He could hear a few guests downstairs already. Some were identifiable from the guest list. Mrs Hudson was of course already there, but he could now hear Molly and Stella talking quietly below him. Nearby, but in a separate room, Sherlock heard two lower voices. 2 men, clearly, but the voices were so quiet that he couldn't work out who they were. Probably Major Sholto with a friend, he thought. He knew John was still getting ready in a room as far away from his own as possible- it was tradition, after all. Curiosity getting the better of him, Sherlock decided it was time to head downstairs to find out who's voices he couldn't identify. He took each step downstairs at a particular rhythm, while each brown stair creaked slightly.

Once downstairs, Sherlock found the door he had guessed was the one where the 2 low voices - who no longer spoke - had come from. Then a cough. A little cough, again unidentifiable, was heard from the room Sherlock was standing outside of. This was definitely the correct room. Obviously Sherlock didn't knock, and simply had to push open the door. No handle twisting, no lock picking. Just one push. It was a heavy door though, so Sherlock had to use a bit of force to allow the door to open.

A tall figure. Turned away from Sherlock.

Mycroft.

"What the HELL are you doing here?!" Sherlock shouted. He couldn't process why Mycroft was here, and he certainly didn't expect him to be there either. Mycroft responded with a snarky comment, as usual.

"Oh hello brother mine. Well well, of course I'm just here to remind you how disappointed I am in you. You and... him. I don't understand it, it's just so-"

"Beautiful. Yes, well I agree with you there, brother mine, mine and John's relationship is truly wonderful. Thanks for the reminder!" he said in the most sarcastic tone he could possibly create.

Mycroft sighed.

"Oh Sherlock. You know I didn't mean that. It's horrifying... two men. That's why I'm here, to make your day quite terrible indeed. With a little bit of help, obviously. You didn't think I just slipped myself in here somehow? Oh, no no no." Mycroft thought this would be the most clever way of using his time at the wedding. He thought it would all go to plan.

A moment later, another figure in a dressing gown and messy hair walked in, looking slightly distracted by his exhaustion.

"Hey babe, I've just got-" Lestrade stopped in the middle of his words. Standing there, was Sherlock and Mycroft. He didn't expect to see Sherlock, to be... exposed. Mycroft was horrified, he wanted to make Sherlock's day hell but hadn't realised this could happen.

He couldn't pass off Lestrade as his partner-in-crime in making Sherlock's day the worst day of his life. He couldn't reveal his inner homophobia, his inner guilt. He himself was gay, but he wanted to forget that and use Sherlock to let out all the hatred he had built up inside of him.

"You... and Mycroft?" Sherlock asked Lestrade. He knew if he had asked Mycroft he'd somehow justify something.

"Err, yeah. 1 year. Jeez Sherlock, you weren't supposed to know. Mycroft's a bit..." his words trailed off.

Mycroft spoke.

"Oh stop it. Hey, Sherlock, I was just joking, okay? I don't hate you and John at all, clearly. So we're good, yes? As long as you don't tell mummy"

But of course Sherlock was going to tell her. This was Sherlock.

"Babe, could you give Sherlock and I a moment?" Mycroft addressed Lestrade. His response was a small nod and a smile, and before he knew it Lestrade had left the room, as messy as he looked. Mycroft's facial expression changed from a soft smile to a dark stare in half a second.

"Sherlock. You don't tell mummy. You don't tell John. Or else I'll tell them both about... you." he looked at Sherlock's wrists. Sherlock let out a little gasp which he caught as quickly as he could.

"But... that was only once, Mycroft."

"Well I doubt it will be just once after today. You're so pathetic, so weak. You were always the stupid one. When you kiss John today, remember how sinful that is. I may be with Lestrade, but we're all pathetic sinners Sherlock. You and John are just much worse because you're getting married. It's so unnatural. I've wanted to protect you my entire life, and now you go and betray me like this. Go to hell, Sherlock, and never come back. I'll make sure you remember this day as the worst day of your life. You sinner."

---------

Vows given.

*glass smashes*

A gentle kiss.

*999. Mycroft has 'choked on his food'*

Cake cut.

*attempted robbery*

Drinks served.

*audible screams from outside the building*

Sherlock and John hold hands.

*fire alarm goes off*

Intimate hugs.