26. Confessions.

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I'm sorry, this is very short and bad. I'm very busy this week. D:

John glanced around, looking for a clock to see the time. When he found a typical modern clock hanging at the grey wall. He read that it is 1PM. His eyes widened at the hour and he then looked down at Sherlock, sleeping peacefully. He looked so peaceful, so calm. His eyes barely closed and the only motion in his body is the soft rise and fall of his chest. His curls covering his forehead. A smile curved onto John's lips. He felt happy to be with Sherlock right now. His protector. Like literally. Sherlock is John's protector. He saved him last night.

John shifted closer to Sherlock and leaned down and pressed his lips softly on Sherlock's head.

"Sherlock." John said mildly, more likely whispering, nudging softly in Sherlock's side.

"Hmmmm." Sherlock groaned, shifting away from John at the soft touch.

"Sherlock, get up." John said.

"Hmm."

John rolled his eyes as Sherlock repeated the hmm. John's hands worked their way under Sherlock's shirt, and made circle movements onto his pale skin, teasing his Sherlock.

"Hmmm, John." John chuckled at this. So typical Sherlock.

"Get up, Sherlock. Your parents remember..." John pointed out.

"Hmmm." Again.

As John his hands slipped further under the shirt, Sherlock moaned softly and arched into his hands. John leaned over and kissed him softly, echoing Sherlock's moan as those curved soft lips move beneath his own. Sherlock's mouth moved so beautifully under John's direction and every now and then a small breathy gasp escaped him. Sherlock's fists clenched the pillow and he growled.

"Fine." He muttered, and sat up. John laughed, and sat more straight.

"Good boy." John said with joy as he padded Sherlock's head on his curly hair, like people do with a dog. Sherlock sneaked a tiny smile and looked over at his John.

"Got any information about Moriarty?" John asked.

"Nothing important. He's 20 years old, followed an acting course, homosexual, no criminal record." Sherlock informed him.

"Oh. So just a strange weird guy then?"

"Jep."

"Sherlock?" John said quietly.

"John?" Sherlock replied.

"I should go home today, ya know, check out my mom." John shrugged. Sherlock frowned.

"What, no John." Sherlock said coldly.

"Sherlock, I have to go back. It's my home."

"You have to be joking." Sherlock hissed. His frowns pursed furiously together.

"What, no I'm not."

"For god's sake, John. Do you even remember what happened last night?" Sherlock snapped.

"I need to see my mom. Checking if she is alright." John pointed out.

"She is." Sherlock informed him coldly.

"How'd you know?" He asked confused.

"She is the one who opened the front door for me. I admit, I'm... smart. Yes the smartest. But that doesn't mean I am a burglar." Sherlock paused. "Well, I can break a slot easily. But anyways, John. I don't want you to get hurt again."

"How was she?" John asked quickly. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"She was fine." Sherlock hesitated a bit.

"You stutter... You never do." John pointed out.

"I'm not stuttering!" Sherlock defended.

"Yes you are!" John swallowed. "Is she hurt?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"Sherlock!" He hissed. Sherlock sighed.

"Just a tiny bruise on her cheek. She is fine, really. Her smile was righteous towards me." Sherlock said cautiously, as he saw John's eyes widening, he laid his hand on John's arm.

"He hit her?" John asked firmly.

"Yes."

"That's it." John said through bared teeth. He stood up but Sherlock pushes him back down.

"John, please."

"Sherlock. My mom! I... I... need to see h-" John got interrupted by a tight hug from Sherlock. Sherlock nuzzled faintly against his chest and he marvelled at how comfortable he was having him here with him, having him close. There'd been a time when he'd not been comfortable with even the slightest touches, let alone anything to do with affection and hugs. But with John. Everything is different. John sniffed onto Sherlock's shoulder.

"I still love him." John said feebly, weeping softly.

"I know." Sherlock whispered back. Sherlock had no idea why John still loved his dad. He knocked him into the hospital and into a closet? Why would you love a person who does that to you. After five minutes Sherlock released him and stared deeply into John's eyes.

"I'm going after food for you." He said. John nodded and Sherlock pecked his forehead.

When Sherlock was standing at the stairs, he heard cheering. He stood still and was trying to hear something. Trying to figure out what it was. When he can't hear it good, he softly walked downstairs.

"Oh myyyy! I can't believe this – Finally - Oh jeeez - I don't know what to say. – My son. – Ah finally!" Sherlock totally froze at this. About what was she talking? Mycroft dating Greg? "When do I meet him?" He heard his mother cry out at Mycroft. Mycroft replied but it was inaudible for Sherlock to hear. This must be about Greg, Sherlock thought. Sherlock walked into the living room and coughed for acknowledge.

"Oh good morning honey!" His mother said, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Surely she was very happy with the news of Mycroft and Greg.

"I can't believe this!" She said cheerfully and hopped gaily into the kitchen. "I'll make some breakfast for you two!" She added. Sherlock looked over at Mycroft with a raised brow.

"Did you tell her?" Sherlock half whispered.

"Obviously." Mycroft answered dryly. He looked away from Sherlock, glaring inside the kitchen at his singing mother. "You, better tell her now." He said. Sherlock briefly looked at his mom and then at his brother. He closed his eyes, trying to think what he should do, and he thought it's the best to say it now, since she was in a happy mood. It will be fine, Sherlock thought.

"Mum?" Sherlock called dully.

"Yes dear?" She said while breaking an egg. Sherlock cleared his throat, looking at Mycroft as Mycroft nodded Sherlock spoke up.

"I'm dating a boy too."

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