Sherlock preferences

They find out you were abused

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Sherlock-
"So... We've got the murder of a young child, 11 years old, heavily abused - as you can see from all the bruising - and the main suspect was the parents..." Greg strutted around the crime scene rubbing his lightly stubbled chin until Sherlock rudely interrupted.
"Of course it was the parents graham! Are you stupid? The kid was being abused! Now he's dead at his PARENTS house! There is no question it was them." Sherlock strode away from the blare of the ambulance siren until he caught sight of you behind one of the shaded police cars.
"(Y/n)?" Sherlock started "(y/n) are you ok? You've not said a word all night"
You looked up into Sherlock's eyes only to see the familiar twinkle framing his face with light. His mouth was straight, not smiling like it usually was which signalled to you that he could sense something was up.
"(Y/n)?" He repeated softly
"I'm fine" you retorted in a tone which was harsher than you had intended it to be. After this accidental crack in mental stability, you decided to just spill... Get it over with.
"Sherlock.... I've been feeling uneasy all night. This case... It.. It really hit home with me. My uncle used to get drunk a lot when I was a child and... He'd hit me... Hard. I felt worthless! I felt like I couldn't tell anyone! I didn't know who to trust I..."
At this point you collapsed into heavy sobbing and fell into Sherlock's strong arms.
"(Y/n)... Babe... I had no idea. I'm sorry. If I'd have known I wouldn't have brought you here. I'm sorry." With a final sigh, Sherlock slid his arm around your waist and lifted you up into his arms and placed you carefully onto the back seat of one of the police cars -the siren still yelping-. Without further questions, he plopped himself down in the drivers seat and started the engine.
"Come on babe, let's go and watch a film at home. I hope that will help you take your mind off things" he gave you a warm smile into the rear view mirror as you set off and the closer you got to home, the better you felt...

John-
It was a cold and harsh winter evening in London and as if it couldn't get any colder, your Central heating system decided to commit suicide.
"John, it's freezing in here!" You shuddered as you attempted to breathe into your hands to conserve what little internal heat you had left.
"Come on, let's get into our pyjamas" John suggested urgently. "Then we can warm up in bed." You readily agreed to this proposal and skipped across the icy wooden floor and began to remove your too to put on your night shirt.
"Wait... Sweetie... What's that?" John said quietly with a hint of alarm creeping into his voice. You didn't see what he was looking at but as you were stood only in your bra and trousers, you had a pretty good idea what he had seen.
"Nothing..." You lied.
"That mark on your back... What is it?"
John enquired further, much to your embarrassment.
"Nothing..." You repeated. You didn't have time to make up a more convincing lie.
"Sweetie, I'm serious, what is it?" John was right next to you now, he was tracing the mark on your back with his finger. It was a light pink colour and was about one foot long, three centimetres wide and was made entirely of scar tissue. The feeling of his cold fingers on your back made you dried out as if in pain and you shouted harshly "I WAS WHIPPED OK??!"
John was takes aback. For a few seconds he was rendered speechless, all he could muster were a few sorrowful gasps before spluttering "who... W..when?..."
You inhaled deeply to expel the tears which were collecting in the corners of your eyes. Then you spoke.
"My dad had a friend when I was about 10. He acted like a nice guy around him but as soon as my dad left... He was like the devil.... He hit me and kicked me every time he came over, his anger issues were quite clear and he used me as a punching bag. One day he really lost it and with a huge swing, he sliced my back clean open with a piece of thick climbing rope. He made me lie to my dad... I told him that I cut my back while falling out of a tree... To this day, he still doesn't know the truth..."
John could only stare. He couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. After thirty seconds, he reached over to you and pulled you into the biggest hug it was physically possible to give.
"Oh baby... I will never NEVER let anyone ever hurt you again! I promise..."

Mycroft-
You were in yours and Mycroft's bedroom in your underwear. You had been sat on the bed for about an hour starring into nothingness, and the nothingness starred back. Mycroft had been out at Sherlock's for a while and you weren't counting on him being back until sundown or at least for another few hours. As you looked down at your frail arms, you slid your fingers across the pink tinted lines which cascaded down your wrists. they haunted you...the ghosts of what once was painful were now a fabled reminder of your torturous past. Suddenly, the click of the doorknob made you jump and whimper. Mycroft was home...
"DON'T COME IN!" You shrieked as you tried unsuccessfully to shade your forearms from view as he entered. The smile on his face was soon plastered over by fear and sadness.
"(Y/n)... Precious?... What is this?" Mycroft murmured as he reached out for your arms. At first you pulled away but eventually you knew, there was no lying your way out anymore...
"I used to cut ok?... My childhood was traumatic... This kids at school, day in day out used to yell abuse at me purely for their pleasure. They called me worthless... A waste of space... Fat.... Stupid.... I couldn't take it anymore... I found that cutting was a release. It calmed my inner demons, for a while at least. Every time I look at the scars, I just think of all the abuse and it washes over me again... It's horrible..."
As you spoke, Mycroft was wrapping himself tighter and tighter around your frail body until his tears began to fall in your frail shoulders and your frail hands began to shake along with the rest of you. You were frail... And for the first time Mycroft truly understood you.
"Precious... I promise with all of my heart that I will look after and protect you for the rest of my life. I love you so, so, so much. And never forget that ok?"
You looked up into Mycroft's teary eyes and hidden with acceptance as he continued to cradle you in his strong, loving grip.

Greg-
You and Greg were sat together on your leather sofa watching tv when one of those charity adverts popped up...

"Please, for just £5 per month you can sponsor an abused child... They deserve to have a happy childhood... Please, call now to give all you can ... Thank you"

As the advert ended, Greg rolled his eyes and snorted slightly.
"What?" You asked curiously as Greg shook his head at the screen.
"I don't get those adverts... Sponsor an abused child?? They should just have the nerve to actually TELL someone they are being abused and then they can get help themselves instead of scrounging off strangers..."
After he finished speaking, he saw that tears had appeared in your eyes and your bottom lip had started to quiver ever so slightly.
"What is it babe?" He enquired as the tears escaped your eyes and made a dash for your cheeks.
"Is that what you think of me Greg?..... A scrounger? Someone without nerve? Do you think I didn't want help?!" Your tone was growing in anger and you found yourself spitting out your last few words.
"Sweet pea you're scaring me..." Greg said, shuddering.
"I was an abused child Greg! I spent the first 10 years of my life terrified of being beaten up by my dads drunk friends! It was horrible! You have no empathy at all!!"
Greg sank back in is seat, astonished by what he had just heard.  After a few minutes, all he could utter was "wow... I'm sorry babe... I...I didn't know"               He carefully wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to his side "I'm sorry sweet pea... I love you".   You had no choice but to accept his apology... You did love him back after all...