Teen!Lock : Unbreakable

Chapter 7: Dads, eh?

*A/N I know, It's late but I've been busy with school and stuff and its the easter break now so I have time! I'ts quarter to midnight and I just dreamt similar to this so I've changed it to fit the story.

(WARNING This chapter is quite dark and involves Sherlock's past, which I have made up for the purpose of this fic It also contains a small part referencing self harm and drug use)

*About 2 months into the school year, Sherlock and John's friendship is the same*

Chapter 7

Sherlock P.O.V

*dream*

I was six and running through the corridors of my house, the familiar smell of mum's cooking invading my nostrils. Unfortunately, every room was soundproof. I was running from my father, again i had apparently done something bad but I never brought my swords (sticks) into the house anymore. Not after last time... 

I kept running but large hands grabbed me by the shoulders. "NO! LET ME GO. STOP!" Nothing I shouted seemed to stop him or grab anyone's attention. I just wanted it to stop. Why wouldn't it stop?

The abuse was physical and sexual. I screamed for my mother and Mycroft, but nobody seemed to hear me. Nobody ever does. I thrashed around, trying to get free but he just kept hitting me and whispering things into my ears, "Your worthless, Sherlock. Nobody plays with you because your a freak, nobody likes you. You will never have friends. Who'd be friends with a freak!" I couldn't get free so I just gave up, I tried to curl up into a ball but he just moved me forcibly onto my hands and knees.....

John P.O.V

I was woken by Sherlock, he was shouting. Or so I thought, He was calling for someone in his sleep. "MYCROFT! MOTHER. HELP ME!"

I stood and walked over to his bed, I looked at the alarm clock 2:13AM, great. I moved over to him, he was thrashing around and sweating, his bed sheet clinging to him. "Sherlock, wake up mate, it's just a dream." No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't wake.

I couldn't handle it so I called Mycroft.

*Ring, ring*

"What the hell do you need at this hour, John?!"

"Mycroft, it's Sherlock, he's having a really bad nightmare and he won't wake up."

"So?" Mycroft replied.

"He's uh.. he's shouting for you and your mother..."

Mycroft hung up. Around five minutes later Mycroft was at the door with Greg.

"Is he awake yet?"

"No, Not yet, what's he dreaming about? why is he calling your name?"

"I don't know, John. I don't like not knowing...."

Mycroft walked to Sherlock's thrashing body and crouched. "Sherlock, wake up. It's just a dream, no one can hurt you."

He said it so softly that it unnerved me. I thought Sherlock was replying but he was still dreaming. "MYCROFT, HELP. DON'T LET HIM HURT ME AGAIN. PLEASE."

By now, half of the boys on this floor were outside of our dorm, wondering who was shouting. Mycroft  had Greg send them back to their dorms. Almost as soon as Greg had shut the door, Sherlock bolted upright panting.

He turned to see all three of us staring at him. "What?!" He asked, obviously aware what had happened. He leaned against the head board and brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, the duvet still covering him.