A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! Here's another chapter!!!!! This one isn't terribly upsetting....things are starting to get better for the boys...next chapter is probably going to be the last chapter....Hope you guys have liked this story...Enjoy<3

It took three weeks after their confrontation in the cemetery before Sherlock stopped trying to repay John. He would sneak into his room at night, trying to convince John to take him, to use his body in one way or another. John always refused, often pinning the younger boy down until his anxiety passed and he would dissolve into a pile of sobbing limbs.

They never talked about those nights, not when the sun was up.

John was walking through the halls of the school, clutching his books to his chest and trying to listen to whatever tale Mike Stamford, the boy who had latched on to John, was telling him. Something was wrong, during Maths someone had slipped Sherlock a note that obviously freaked the boy out. He had practically fled the classroom in tears and John hadn't seen him since.

"Have you seen Sherlock?" He finally gave in, interrupting Mike's story.

"Not since Maths. Probably buggered off somewhere to get high." John fought back a flare of anger. It was no secret around the school that Sherlock had a drug problem, but no one seemed to believe, or care, that the boy had been clean for nearly two months now.

"He's clean."

"Sure, he's 'gotten clean' four times now. It never lasts John. He always turns back to the drugs-"

"Not this time."

"You don't know that-"

"Trust me, I do." John snapped, quickly shoving his books into Mike's arms and backing away. "Sorry Mikey, but I've got to make sure he's okay. Just, leave my books at reception." John didn't wait for a response, hurrying down the halls, praying Sherlock wasn't doing anything stupid.

A little incentive. I'm going to carry on V's legacy – JM

Sherlock curled in on himself, his chest heaving. He couldn't take his eyes off the little baggie taped to the note. This wasn't the first time Jim Moriarty had bothered him since Victor died. Jim had been one of the boys Victor was feeding drugs to, and he blamed Sherlock for his supply getting cut off.

Now, Jim was offering to take Victor's place and Sherlock could feel himself aching to take the bait. It meant drugs, it meant being wanted again, and since John clearly didn't want him, Sherlock was struggling to see the point of denying it.

He knew that if he caved, he would not be walking out of this closet. He knew that Moriarty had laced the drugs.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

You don't deserve to be treated like that. John's voice was clear in his mind as he tugged at his hair, fighting every single fibre of his being that was screaming for the drugs.

A sharp knock jolted him out of his thoughts and he stared uselessly up at the door, knowing it wasn't locked.

"Sherlock? Are you in there?" John! Sherlock scrambled to his feet, not registering the moment he picked up the note and baggie before he swung the door open.

John looked terrified and relieved, the second emotion quickly fading when Sherlock shoved the paper against his chest.

Sherlock cowered back into the supply closet he had been hiding in, expecting rage and fists flying.

"Who did this?" John asked, his voice low and trembling.

"I-It's no one-"

"Sherlock. I can find out from someone else, or you can tell me now." Sherlock automatically dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around his waist and breathing heavily.

"J-Jim." He stuttered, rocking back and forth on his knees.

"Were you going to take them?"

"I-I don't know. I-I- I didn't want to, b-but- but its just s-so h-hard." John was silent for a moment, and Sherlock could hear some soft mumbling. Shortly after, a firm hand gripped his elbow and was hauling him to his feet. He forced open his eyes to see John, his jaw tight and eyes steel as he led Sherlock down the halls. "J-John-"

"Not now Sherlock." Sherlock snapped his Jaw shut and allowed himself to be dragged, comforted slightly by the strength of the grip John had on his elbow.

His panic returned in full force when John led him straight up to Jim Moriarty.

John released his grip on Sherlock and stepped up to Moriarty, the baggie of drugs in his hand as he gripped the taller boy's shirt and threw him against the wall. The kids surrounding them froze in shock as John easily pinned the other boy to the wall.

"I'm going to make one thing very clear." John's voice was dark, dangerous and steady. That's probably how he sounded when he killed Victor. Sherlock's brain supplied, sending more terror through his veins. "If you ever, try to talk to, communicate with, or threaten Sherlock Holmes in any way again, I will tie you down, cut your cock off with a butter knife, and shove it up your own ass." Sherlock was both terrified and fascinated by the display, and watched in awe as Moriarty basically crumbled under John's gaze.

"Y-You won't-" John slammed the boy back against the brick harshly, causing his head to crack against the wall.

"Try me." He growled before releasing the boy, spinning around and grabbing Sherlock's wrist. "Same goes for anyone else. Fuck with Sherlock, and I will kill you all." Sherlock gasped as John hauled him away, unable to stop watching the powerful boy in front of him.

John dragged him all the way back to the Holmes estate and up to his room. Sherlock's parents weren't home, but he still locked the door. Sherlock stood awkwardly before John's bed, waiting for the expected blows.

"God, I'm so sorry Sherlock." John's words sent a shock of what? No, wrong! Through his head, and he flinched when John pulled him in for a hug. "I'm so sorry, I just- the thought of someone else hurting you like that- I-I shouldn't have made you watch that." John pulled back, looking up at Sherlock and brushing his curls out of his eyes. The older boy looked to be on the edge of tears and Sherlock couldn't understand why. "Are you okay? No one hurt you, did they?" Sherlock shook his head, trying to figure out what was happening.

"I-I'm sorry John." He whispered, doing the only thing he knew how to do to make John happy again. He leaned down and kissed the shorter boy. He licked eagerly into John's mouth, trying to erase the anger and disappointment from his friend. "I'm sorry." He whispered against John's lips, chasing after his lips when the older boy tried to pull away.

"Sher-Sherlock." John tried to object, but Sherlock pressed forward, leaning farther down and licking and sucking at the boy's neck. "Sherlock, stop." He felt firm hands on his shoulders and suddenly he was pushed away, held at arms length by a flustered John Watson. "Stop. I-I- I don't want you like this, Sherlock-"

"Why not!" Sherlock shouted, all the hurt and rejection he had been feeling suddenly spilling over. "What about me is so fucking terrible, that the thought of being with me repulses you so?" He tugged himself out of John's grasp, backing against the far wall and tugging roughly at his hair. "I-I just- I don't want you to be mad at me, but you won't let me fix it."

He gasped as John suddenly surged forward, grabbing Sherlock's face gently and kissing him.

Sherlock's entire world became that kiss.

It was nothing like Victor's kisses, which were always rough and demanding. Kissing John was gentle, easy, a slow slide of lips and tongue that left him breathless and lightheaded.

"You don't repulse me, Sherlock." John whispered against his lips. "There's nothing for you to fix."

"B-But-"

"I don't want you to feel like you owe me. That you need to let me take you for me to like you." John gripped his waist and tugged him back towards the bed, sitting on the mattress and pulling Sherlock onto his lap. "When we do this, I'm going to make you feel so loved. But I need to know you want it first. I will never take anything from you that isn't wholly given."

Fire sparked through Sherlock's veins as something clicked in his mind.

He wanted John.

He wanted to feel his strength, his powerful body rubbing against his own. He wanted to feel loved by John Watson.

"I-I'm scared." He whispered, leaning down to press a timid kiss to John's lips. "But I do want this John. I-I- I want you." John pressed up for another kiss, still soft, but deeper than the last.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You wouldn't."