Sherlock

"Awh, honey," Violet tsked, murmuring pitifully, "what gave you that bruise?"

Siger looked up from his newspaper threateningly. "Yes," he drawled, "Who gave you that?"

Sherlock frowned. "I was going through the bushes, out exploring, and I pulled out a branch and it hit me in the face." It was the most stereotypical response he could manage. Thankfully, his mum trusted him completely and gave him a half grimace.

"Oh," she said, "I'll get you an ice pack."

Siger folded his newspaper and looked up at Sherlock as he bit an apple, his eyes widening. "No," he said, smiling slightly, "I'll get it, Violet. Come here, Sherlock."

His heart sped up as Siger stared him down, swallowing back spit and watching as his father's eyes traced him as he stood up to go to the bathroom.

His father followed him, and then when they got inside, he shut the door. Sherlock felt so vulnerable. Ridiculously vulnerable. Siger's hands found Sherlock's shoulders, and he searched his dad's eyes for some sort of semblance to love. There was nothing there except the telltale dilation that told Sherlock that his father was angry. "Don't say a word," Sherlock's dad whispered, "Or you'll have more than a bruise."

Sherlock pushed his father back. "Then don't touch me," Sherlock pulled his face into a scowl, watching the man straighten.

"Are you the man of the household? Who do you think you are, trying to impose your authority on me? You are nothing but a child."

"I am," Sherlock said, "but I'm also not your punching bag, so leave... me... alone."

"So be it," Siger said. "Go to your room."

"No."

"You will do as I say."

"No, I won't. I'm not doing anything you say. Not this time. God so help you that I won't tell mum. She wouldn't be happy about hearing that you gave me those bruises."

"My word against yours," Siger said with a sly grimace. "I could tell her all those things that you do when no one but me is watching. Don't try to be smart."

"I will," Sherlock said nonchalantly, and left the bathroom in long strides. He felt stupid, wearing only a hand-me-down pajama from Mycroft, but he seemed to make a point. Siger never touched him.

His heart felt like it was going to explode, guts blowing all over the walls. Siger's eyes never left him as he slowly climbed up the stairs, trembling with broken fears.

He didn't look back when his father said, "Make sure that she doesn't find the drugs." Sherlock could feel the grin burning into his neck, a mirror image of his smile twisted into another man's body.

John

When John got home, Harry tapped his shoulder, nail polish glistening in the dark.

"Do you wanna go out, today?" she whispered. "Pickard is passed out cold. I put some quaaludes in his water."

"What?" I almost yelled, but then toned it down to a loud whisper, "What?"

"I put some drugs in his drink! He'll be fine, John, just... let's go. Before Mum comes home. Before he wakes up. I brought the blankets and threw a rock at the street lamp. It was literally so fucking hilarious, like, I think Mrs. Finch fucking called the police-"

"Okay," John said, smiling, "Let's go. Are you dressed?"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. She was wearing skintight jeans and a t-shirt that didn't go past her waistline.

"Jacket," John chastised.

"Oh, but Hamish-"

John pushed her in the direction of the coat rack, where only Pickard's coat hung, and she took it off and shrugged it on her shoulders.

"And," John added, "Never call me that. That is literally the worst-"

"Oh, you know you love it-"

"-and if I ever hear it said again I swear to our dead grandmum-"

"Hamish is very-"

"-and your eyes will begin to bleed-"

"-and I think Mum has a great sense of-"

"-start convulsing on the floor and I won't try to save you."

"Mm," she said nonchalantly, and kissed John on the cheek. She was taller than John was in her stilettos, and his cheek was wet with lipstick, which he promptly wiped off.

"You know that I can still beat you in an arm wrestle, correct?" John laughed as he stepped into the freezing night air, carrying only a sleeping bag.

"I've been practicing," Harry replied.

They lay out the bag in front of the porch, and slipped inside together, warming each other up, huddling. Must've been forty degrees out there, the wind chilling their cheeks and noses and their ears. They went numb in five minutes.

This was the only time that John ever felt at peace, next to his sister, his best friend. The stars seemed to shine brighter when they were together, even if she shook off any declaration of affection he gave her. He still loved her. He said so, every day before he left for school. She was the only one he could talk to.

"So how was your first day?"

"Bad."

"Always is. Second?"

"Worse."

"Third, then."

"Potential."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But there was this writing on my geography book that really pissed me off."

"What'd it say?"

"It said, 'i kno your a fag you smell like cum' in the most illiterate way possible."

"Are you a fag?"

"No, Harry."

"You sure?"

John sighed, getting a bit irritated.

"Sorry," Harry laughed. "Joking. But anyway. That's gross."

"It's a bit."

"Just like Dickard."

"He's really sodding gross. That's understating it, to be frank."

"Agreed."

"I hate him," John finally said.

"Me too."

"I really sodding hate him."

"More than I do?"

"Possibly."

"I want him to die."

"I want him to lose all his limbs and become a potato."

"Why not a rhubarb?"

"He's more a beet type, don't you agree?"

Harriet snorted in that weird way she did, and John did his breathless laugh.

"Mm. And then, we'll chop him up and eat him." Harry poked John's side with one finger.

"Agreed."

There was silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. The next words were.

"I hate... I hate how he hits you and Mum."

"Don't."

"No, no, I'm just worried. I can't always protect you..." John paused. "I was looking up resources on the internet and the article said that the last step in the domestic violence cycle is to... to kill the victim. I don't know how true that is-"

"John," Harry said. A shudder passed through her and he felt her skin prickle against his. "Stop."

"Okay," John said. All was quiet as they looked up into the inky black sky and contemplated how such good people got such shit lives.