A/N Saw something on Tumblr and ran with it. TRIGGER WARNING!!!! This one talks about verbal, physical and sexual abuse. There is also the tiniest bit of smut so a minor SMUT WARNING!! is needed. You have been warned..... Enjoy <3

"Sherlock Holmes?" I looked up to see a handsome young grinning down at my husband. I felt a pang of jealousy in my chest at the aggressive look on his face. He was tall, thin, and blonde, and carried himself with all the poise of a Holmes. I felt Sherlock tense beside me at his voice. He looked up and I could see him struggling to keep an impassive face. Who the hell was this guy?

"V-Victor Trevor?" Sherlock never stuttered unless he was emotionally overwhelmed or in the throes of passion. I shifted uncomfortably and placed a hand defensively on his thigh. He flinched away at the contact. What the hell is happening?

"How have you been? Its been an age! Give me a hug." Victor held out his arms and signaled for Sherlock to come closer. Sherlock wiped the corners of his mouth and placed his napkin beside his plate. The tremor in his hands was unmistakable. I had seen him like this once before, just after he had told me what happened during his time abroad. I tightened my grip on his thigh, sending him a concerned look. He looked at me and all I could see in his eyes was terror.

I watched as he timidly stood, straightening his suit jacket and allowing Victor to pull him in for a lingering hug. The hug lingered too long for my comfort and I could have sworn I heard him breathing in Sherlock's scent.

"God, how have you been? I heard you threw yourself from a rooftop, kind of fucked there eh sweetheart." That was it. I was the only one, other than Mrs. Hudson of course, that could call him that. I cleared my throat and stood, walking around the table and placing my hand on my husband's shoulder. Sherlock pushed himself from Victor's embrace and stood beside me. He was hunched over and trembling slightly, looking as though he was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry, who is your friend?" Victor's tone was condescending and he raked his eyes over me, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"This is John." Sherlock's voice was soft and shy, and he refused to remove his gaze from where it had settled on the floor.

"How nice, found yourself a friend finally? Its about damn time. You should have seen him back in uni. He was the most awkward, unattractive tangle of limbs I'd ever seen." The man laughed and I felt a flash of anger at his words. I was beginning to understand what was upsetting Sherlock.

"Actually, I'm his husband." I stated, winding my arm around Sherlock's waist and pulling him close. I felt him tremble against me, and fought back the urge to punch Victor in the teeth.

"Husband? Wow Sherlock darling, you found someone to put up with you? What's wrong with him?" Victor laughed heartily and clapped a hand down on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock flinched violently, knocking against the table and sending our half empty glasses of wine spilling over. "Still so nervous sweetheart?" Victor's voice turned to honey and he stepped closer to Sherlock, causing my vision to blur red.

"That's it. We are leaving. Sherlock, love, get your coat." I knew that the anger in my tone probably wasn't helping Sherlock's tension, but I wasn't going to stand for this anymore. I signaled to Angelo that we were leaving and took my husband by the elbow.

"So soon? That is unfortunate, we must meet for tea sometime Sherlock." Sherlock worried at his bottom lip, seemingly looking for the perfect response.

"I really don't think that will be happening, but it was great meeting you Vicky." I snapped, relishing the shocked expression that passed over the pretty man's face. I tugged Sherlock out the doors and dragged him down the street.

"John-" He sounded so upset, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to him about it right now. I stopped walking and turned to face my husband, fighting the tears as I saw how upset he was.

"No, not here Sherlock." I whispered, tenderly touching his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry love, but if I try to talk about this right now, I will just get angry and turn around and kill the son of a bitch. Just wait a few moments until we get home, then I will draw a hot bath and pull out that jasmine oil you like so much, and massage some of that tension out of your shoulders. Sound like a plan?" Sherlock nodded, looking slightly less nervous than before.

We continued home, me no longer dragging my husband. As we neared Baker Street, I felt him cautiously take my hand in his. This was abnormal for him, he normally was not timid with his affections. We finally made it home and shuffled up the stairs, neither of us saying a word. When we entered our flat, I found myself pressed against the wall, Sherlock kissing me deeply.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered against my lips, I could hear the fear and tears in his voice.

"Sherlock-"

"No, please, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I promise, I'll make it up to you." He dropped to his knees and started fighting with my belt. His hands were shaking and I could hear the tremor in his breathing. He was never like this. Something was dreadfully wrong. I grabbed his hands and pried them away from me. I knelt in front of him and took his face in my hands.

"Sherlock, look at me love." He caught my eyes, and my heart broke. I had seen these symptoms before, Harry acted like this after her first and only boyfriend left her. "Not like this love. I would never make you do anything like this. I'm not upset with you, I'm upset with him. He hurt you, and I wasn't there to stop him. I don't want you like this Sherlock." I kissed him softly, suddenly becoming aware of the tears staining both of our faces.

"Y-you won't hurt me?" My mind reeled at that question. I pulled him in for a hug and sobbed into his shoulder as I felt him flinch in my arms.

"God no Sherlock, I would never hurt you." My words were muffled by his shirt, but I knew he heard me when I felt a sob wrack his thin frame. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. We cried together for a while, just holding each other.

Eventually, we made our way into the bathroom. I ran a bath and, as promised, brought out the jasmine scented oil and sat behind him, massaging his tense shoulders and back.

"We used to date." Sherlock eventually spoke, his voice soft and uncertain. I pressed gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders, coaxing soft moans from him. "Victor and I, back in Uni." He fully relaxed against me now, forcing me to move my massage to his arms. "He was captain of the Rugby team, I was severely depressed about ninety percent of the time." I moved my hands down to his stomach and rubbed there for a bit. He liked it when I massaged his stomach, it was one of the many weird things I fell in love with about him. "He was nice, at first, always taking me out and complimenting me. I thought I was the luckiest guy on campus. Until something changed. It was subtle at first, a harsh word, followed immediately by a confession of love." I knew where this was going, I had seen it before, but I let him talk. He needed this.

"Then he started hitting me." I had to actively stop myself from tensing. "He always apologized, promised it wouldn't happen again. But it always did. Every time I wouldn't obey him, or made a sarcastic comment about him to his friends." He was silent for a few minutes, but something told me he wasn't done. I prayed I was wrong, because if I wasn't, I knew what was coming next.

"Then one night, he came home drunk. He wanted sex, I didn't, he took what he wanted." I couldn't contain the tears that slid silently down my face.

"God Sherlock." I whispered into his hair. "How many times?"

"I lost count. Then he started threatening to leave if I didn't service him. Things got so bad, that's when I turned to drugs. I could see what he was doing to me, my mind telling me every horrid thing he was planning to do to me as soon as he walked in. I just wanted it to stop. The first time I told him I was leaving, he put me in the hospital. Punctured lung, severe head trauma, anal tearing." I was fully crying now, but I stayed as quiet as I could.

"After the second time, Mycroft intervened, dragging me out of there and putting me in my first rehab program."

"How many times did you go back?"

"Once. I tried to make it up to him, but he was furious. I was in a coma for a week. Mycroft managed to talk some sense into me pretty easily after that."

"I'm so sorry love."

"I deserved it."

"No, fuck no. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially not you. Now, let's get up and go watch some crap telly and cuddle." We clambered out of the tub and I grabbed his towel. I started drying his skin, following the path of the towel with my lips, pressing soft kisses over his chest and back. "You perfect, gorgeous, brilliant thing." I whispered praises over his skin, worshipping his pale skin with words and kisses. I made my way lower and felt his breath hitch as I kissed at his thighs. He was getting hard under my ministrations. I smirked and looked up at him. He was flushed and panting.

"John-" I cut him off by taking him into my mouth. His eyes widened and he let his head fall back, a deep moan rumbling from his throat. I pulled out all the tricks I had amassed over the years, and before long he was spilling down my throat, moaning my name and slumping boneless against the wall.

I stood, pulling him against me and nuzzling into his neck. I pressed soft kisses against the skin and smiled as he eventually started to regain his composure.

"You deserve to be treated like a king, nothing less. I will never take anything from you that you haven't given me your full consent to have. I love you Sherlock Watson-Holmes."

"I love you to John Watson-Holmes." He whispered against my hair. "Now, can we please go get something to eat? I am starving." I laughed and felt my chest swell. We spent the remainder of the day as I had suggested, curled up on the sofa watching crap telly and enjoying each other's company.

We saw Victor a few weeks later, and I made good on my urge to punch him in the teeth for what he did to Sherlock. That was a fun one to explain to Lestrade.