#FFF2236

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Damaged goods

“Your anger and loyalty will catch up with you one day, and it’ll be your downfall,” John’s father told him when he came home bruised and injured after another fight protecting his sister. 

“I don’t care,” John answered through gritted teeth while he cleaned himself up as best he could. 

His father’s words hurt just as much as setting his dislocated shoulder, but John knew he would do it all again if need be. 

***

“Brother mine, why won’t you tell me who did this to you?” Mycroft asked Sherlock, concern seeping out of his voice. 

“I’m not a snitch, Mycroft,” a thirteen-year-old Sherlock spat.

Blood from his split lip created an interesting pattern on his white t-shirt, his left eye was swollen, and the trousers were ripped at the knees where more blood was visible. 

***

Through the years both men considered themselves damaged goods, but when there was justice to be served, they fought. Fleeing was never an option. 

Those two men met by chance according to John, but Sherlock always stated that the universe is rarely so lazy. 

Whatever it was and however it came to be, they were a matched set. When they were together, they felt whole, their flaws were but trifles. 

John’s father never witnessed his son’s loyalty being valued beyond measure, saving a man’s life just hours after he made his acquaintance.

Sherlock’s brother, however witnessed it all in amazement but also with a considerable amount of apprehension. But, as the years passed, despite his aversion to being wrong, he admitted, at least to himself, that he had miscalculated when it came to John Watson. 

“He keeps me right, Mycroft,” Sherlock told him when Mycroft had expressed his disquiet. 

And for once, Mycroft was glad that he had trusted Sherlock’s instincts. 

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