Please find me stranger! We need to continue this!
- You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
- You and the stranger both like Sherlock, and Johnlock.
- Stranger: John, I... uh, can I stay at your place tonight? If your.. parents, uh, allow it. -SH
- You: Why? What happened, Sherlock? -JW
- Stranger: Nothing. Well, not nothing. Can I? -SH
- Stranger: Please? -SH
- You: Yeah. My parents aren't home but I imagine it won't be a problem... -JW
- Stranger: Thank you. -SH
- Stranger: As soon as the cab arrives, Sherlock pays the driver and rushes up the steps to John's house. He knocks on the door. One of his eyes is nearly swollen shut and he's bruised all across the left side of his face.
- You: John walks runs down the stairs to answer the door. He opens the door and finds Sherlock standing there bruised; when he sees Sherlock, John is stricken with panic. "Sherlock! What happened?" He exclaims quite loudly.
- Stranger: "Can I come in?" Sherlock asks, staring down at his feet. His collar is turned up to hide the hand-shaped bruise on his neck, and he tries not to move too much to avoid feeling the pangs of pain from the bruises on his chest.
- You: "Yes. Come in." John moves out of the way and welcomes Sherlock inside. "Would you like ice?" He looks at Sherlock very worriedly and closes the front door.
- Stranger: "Doesn't matter." Sherlock walks inside and keeps his gaze on the floor. He had never wanted John to find out, but he needed somewhere else to stay for the night.
- You: "What happened, Sherlock?" John asks as he walks to the kitchen and grabs an ice pack. "Please tell me..." He hands Sherlock the ice and waits for an answer.
- Stranger: Sherlock holds the ice to the side of his face, grateful for the coldness that would soon numb the pain. "My father," he mumbled.
- Stranger: *mumbles
- You: John frowns and looks down at his feet. "I'm sorry..." John feels tears well up in his eyes and looks at Sherlock. "Would you like to go upstairs and talk?" John says sincerely.
- Stranger: Sherlock shrugs. He doesn't know--nobody has ever offered such an option to him without truly meaning it.
- You: "Well, it's fine if you don't want to talk. But we can still go upstairs. Harry will be home soon, probably drunk..." John looked at Sherlock and lead the way upstairs to his bedroom. "It's a bit messy at the moment..." John opened the door and walked inside his room.
- Stranger: "That's fine," Sherlock says. It obviously is. He's grateful to get away from the screams, the yells, the repeated striking of his father's fist, being unable to get away, being a failure... being the stupidest, most useless one in the family.
- He stumbles a bit as he walks in, but quickly rights himself.
- You: John quickly clears a few things off his bed and looks at Sherlock. "Would you like me to take your coat?" He offers quietly and timidly. "Also you can sit down on my bed if you'd like..."
- Stranger: Sherlock sits heavily on the end of the bed, legs practically giving out beneath him. /Should I give him my coat?/ he wonders, thinking of the bruise around his neck. /Oh, what the hell, he already knows./ He quickly sheds his coat and hands it to John, eyes still downcast. "Thank you," he mutters.
- You: John winces slightly at the bruises on Sherlock's neck and puts his coat away in his closet. "So, what happened?" John asks as he sits next to Sherlock on the bed.
- Stranger: "I haven't been doing well in school," Sherlock says. "It's too easy. I don't see why I have to do it. Father was angry." He sighs and closes his eyes. "This happened." He was drunk, Sherlock thinks. Again. And it's not the first time this has happened, either. Sherlock was just able to conceal it easily.
