sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

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Prompting Part XXXV

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{Exploring a bit of how victims, especially people who view themselves as smarter than those around them, tend to think they created their own world and come up with odd coping mechanisms and justifications. I hope this works..the heart if this prompt to me is just how convinced he is that he is to blame for it all}

"He wasn't a fucker, John. I was a bit nervous and he treated me with kindness. He provided an excellent introduction into the sexual world. I couldn't have asked for better, believe me. I enjoyed myself. I instigated it and I used him for my own ends. Manipulation. Like Molly. Like Janine."

"I, I didn't know about Molly, but, well I know nothing happened with Janine. She would complain to Mary about that, said you never would quite, go there."

"Nothing happened with Molly, but her attraction to me was entirely exploitable. Nice to know I was a topic of discussion between Mary and Janine. Still best friends, even after she knocked her unconscious?"

"You should talk. 'That's My Girl'?" Sherlock smiled. "Apparently, one can forgive a friend for knocking you unconscious if she was intending to shoot the man who got his kicks from flicking you in the eye. Now you're probably her hero. I don't know what he had on that girl, but it must have been something. And look, you've managed to pull me pretty far off track... you think I don't remember that we were talking about you thinking you manipulated your own abuse?"

"I manipulate people, John. It's what I do. I'm doing it right now... with you."

"With me? Doing what with me?"

"Changing the topic at will. That's all it was then, too. I set it up. I was curious. He was amenable."

"You make it sound like he did you a favor. Sherlock. Even if I was interested in... " John tried again. "I have been interested in men before. If a child stripped down and plunked himself right in my lap and started grabbing at my prick... entirely of their own volition... I would get up and say 'whoa, what the hell?' I would have done that long before it ever got to that point, mind you. Because I am an adult. And children are free to explore their sexuality and to not know what they are doing, have no idea of the consequences of their actions, unintentionally flirt, intentionally flirt, and it is my job, as an adult, not to take advantage of that fact. While they figure it all out themselves...in their own time...with someone their own age. Anything else is an abuse of power. They don't know what they are doing yet. That's the point. You don't instruct a child.

Sherlock had been ready to talk, but found himself completely unaware of how to respond. They rode in silence for some time, John staring at farmland and more cows than he thought could possibly exist just a few minutes outside a large city, before Sherlock broke it.

"Maybe he didn't want to do it. I have, and had, more power than you give me credit for. He, was trying to reconcile. I ruined that, too."

"Damn good thing she found out. Gave her a chance to see just who the fuck she was married to. God, Sherlock. I bet she's grateful. Did he make you feel as if that was your fault? That she finally left the prick?"

"He... yes. Then he left me. Of course. I was taking too much of his time. I would lie about where I was going to get time with him. I would..."

"You would behave like a child. And he blamed it all on you, didn't he. Do you hear what you're saying yet?"

They drove on, each stewing in their own thoughts.

Op here.

I like that Sherlock is taking time to think about it.

Hi OP...
Trying to give him time to rethink what he's been doing. Bet he's rearranging mindpalace furniture. I might be a few days while I establish a path for the rest of the story. Deciding how much Johnlocky stuff and UST vs resolved. Your input always welcome! I have half a chapter up but need a clearer picture of where it's going before I can post

They were a few miles from the airport, with dusk setting in, when John suddenly spoke.

"You think it's because of you! God, I'm slow sometimes. It's... His wife found out who he really was, because of you. Like I found out who Mary really was. So that's why you were dragging this out of storage in your mindpalace. You think you are to blame. You think we could have lived a happy little lie, Mary and me, if it wasn't for you inconveniently getting yourself shot?"

"That's... part of it. And that I wanted..."

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock! You are brilliant, but you are not omnipotent. And you are gorgeous, utterly gorgeous, but you are not bloody Cupid who goes traipsing around in a tight plum shirt and trousers instead of a nappy, shooting people and making them fall for you against their will. You weren't then and you aren't now. He used you! You are like some cat who falls off the telly, gets up and says 'I meant to do that'. You had no control and you convinced yourself you liked it that way. Of course you were curious! Everybody's bloody curious at thirteen! You wait a few years, figure some stuff out, stew in your own juices, then go find someone your own age to figure out a bit more with! You weren't some special case and my God now I'm yelling at you and fuck fuck fuck I'm sorry. Fuck."

Sherlock pulled to the side of the road.

"It's...all right. It's fine."

"No. No, it bloody isn't fine. You don't get to try and calm medown and comfort me. It doesn't work like that. You... I should be.." He looked into Sherlock's eyes, then quickly turned away. Sherlock caught his face with his hand and gently turned it back towards him, reestablishing the eye-contact, keeping his hand against his jaw.

"What, John. You... should be what?"

John looked down to where Sherlock's hand was still against his cheek. "I should be comforting youSherlock. I just want to hold you because... because I hurt that you hurt, and because I hurt even more to think that maybe, you might not hurt. And that probably doesn't make any sense."

Sherlock dropped his hand down to his lap, but remained staring into John's eyes.

"Because, I've been through rehab, twice. I know what it is like when your brain is convinced you understand something that happened, but it's got it all wrong." He looked down at his leg, and ran his hand along his thigh. "And I also know what it is like for a part of you to be so injured that the nerve endings just don't transmit. Like you don't feel. And then there is pain when you finally do." John's hand rested on his injured shoulder. Sherlock placed his hand lightly on top of John's. "And I should, just hold you. There should be some glowy healing power and you should just cry in my arms or something. You should sob until all the pain is gone. And then, I'm not really sure what I'd do next, to be honest. But, you're not going to cry, are you?"

"No, John. I'm not likely to."

"I didn't think so."

"But you can still hold me. If you want to."

John put his arms around him. He thought it would be somewhat awkward, holding this much larger frame leaning into him from the driver's seat. It wasn't. For all his height, Sherlock was narrower than John and he held him tightly. Sherlock felt stiff and awkward at first, but John refused to let go, and the taller man started to feel much smaller, sinking a bit into his chest.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Can we, get out of the car? There's something I want to show you. Plus, there's a gearshift digging into my thigh."

John released him, and saw him pull away rather hesitantly. "Sorry about that."

"It was good. Except for the gear shift. Come on!"

He went around to the front of the car and climbed up on the bonnet, leaning his back against the windshield. John climbed up beside him. "Look up." There were many stars now, ones they could never see amidst the harsh lights of London, with more emerging by the second.

"Is this where you tell me you didn't like being called spectacularly ignorant, so you memorized a few books worth of facts about constellations?"

"Nope," he hit the "p" with a hard, popping sound. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate them, though." He took John's hand in his. "You weren't surprised, when I told you about him. You were surprised by my age, of course, but not the rest. You've thought about it."

"Yes. Quite a bit. And you weren't surprised either. When I said I'd been attracted to men in the past. When I said you were...gorgeous."

Again..."Nope."

"So you've thought about that. Too."

"Yessss. Though to be honest, I do try my best to be gorgeous. It helps with the work. That part was to be expected."

John let go of Sherlock's hand and slugged him in the upper arm. Then Sherlock turned on his side to face him, leaning against the car for balance.

"But, John, since that time, I've only had brief flings with people when it suited my purpose. It was not exactly a noble purpose. I had a certain, value, to whomever I was with. It's hardly something someone like you would want."

"Someone like me?"

"Strong moral principles."

John only nodded.

"And furthermore, I'm not exactly sure what it is I want."

"Okay. We'll see. What do you want right now?"

"To hold your hand and look at the stars."

"Good. That sounds very good." John took his hand.

"And to skip this flight, and get a nice, quiet room in the country for the night."

"Also, good."

"And, maybe we can get a cottage with just the double bed this time."

"And see how it goes, right?"

".... Yes."

"Very good."

{I posted to my AO3 and someone requested a bonus chapter with a bit more johnlock, so here it is if anyone is still following this. AO3 link is /works/1592090?view_full_work=true
"So, Sherlock, if I were to be inspired by the romantic setting of stargazing in the countryside and want to lean in and kiss you, that would be because you carefully set it up this way? Because you wanted me to do that?"

Sherlock's breath hitched just a tiny bit. A suppressed twitch to the corner of his mouth. If John hadn't have been looking for it he wouldn't have noticed. "Of course." This wasn't Sherlock the Manipulator, pleased with himself for his superior skill. His face was always that of a consummate actor, student of the intricacies of body language, but he hadn't quite mastered the technique in his own voice. Not in front of John. The words were too even... emotion behind them being tapped down. John was pleased with himself, however. He didn't suppress his grin.

"So, since I, in fact, deduced that you would be manipulating me, I could easily choose not to give you what you wanted, couldn't I?"

Sherlock's eyes darted up and to the corner in a quick search. He smiled and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Could be a bluff?"

"And that look right there could be a calculated move to show me just how charming you are."

That time Sherlock's face did fall, the tiniest bit.

"No, don't. You see... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because I will do whatever the hell I want to do. Doesn't matter if it's a bluff. " He reached his hand to Sherlock's face this time. John pushed his feet against the bonnet and slid his bottom up the slope of the windshield, giving himself a few more inches in height so their mouths were perfectly even. He'd get used to kissing, well... up... eventually, but for now, might as well use the terrain for tactical advantage. Sherlock watched John's shift and grinned, but any words were cut short by John's lips against his. The kiss was simple, closed-mouthed and gentle. Then John slid a few more inches up, so Sherlock had to angle his head upwards to reach John's mouth, baring a long stretch of neck in the process. John ran his fingers along the upturned jawline and began to trace down the length of his throat with his fingertips. Sherlock leaned toward John's mouth, his lips parted, but John forced his attention away from those perfect lips to run his tongue along the contours of his exposed neck instead, dragging out a high-pitched whimper as he lightly sucked at a patch of skin right above his clavicle. He watched his Adam's apple dip as he swallowed.

John moved back up to Sherlock's mouth again. "Sorry. A bit, distracting, that." Sherlock was still angled upwards, eyes closed, breathing quick and shallow. John slowly dragged his tongue across sherlock's bottom lip, then sucked it gently into his mouth, before releasing it. When John's tongue teased deeper into Sherlock's mouth, Sherlock reciprocated. "And you can't make me want to kiss you," John paused as Sherlock opened his eyes, "when I already want to."

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