One Year Later...

"But I don't want to go!" Sherlock complained.

Lestrade was standing with him outside an expensive London school which Mycroft had graciously agreed to pay the fees for.

"You need to go to school, Sherlock." Lestrade sighed, straightening Sherlock's shirt for the fourth time.

"Why can't I just keep using the private tutor Mycroft hired?" He whinged, "Or why can't I go to the same school as John?"

"Because John is in high school." Lestrade explained.

"So?" Sherlock pouted, "I'm smart enough for high school, I don't want to sit here with a bunch of idiots who don't even know pythagorus!"

"Maybe you can skip a few grades but your not emotionally mature enough for highs school." Lestrade argued trying to tug Sherlock toward the school.

Naturally John and Sherlock had been catching up on the years of schooling they had missed for the past year. While John was an eager learner who had become excited at the prospect of going to a regular school Sherlock was, as usual, difficult. He bored easily and mastered basic mathematics and science so quickly it made Lestrade's head spin.

Both Mycroft and Lestrade decided it was best they went to a regular school to improve their social skills. Sherlock was against the idea from the beginning, saying he didn't need other people or social skills.

"Just try Sherlock?" Lestrade tried, "It's going to happen whether you like it or not."

Sherlock glared and Lestrade glared right on back until finally Sherlock sighed in defeat.

"Okay, but if they try and make me do anything stupid like draw my favorite animal I'm going to complain!"

Lestrade prayed for the souls of the teachers.

-oOo-

Two Years Later

Lestrade walked down the corridor of the expensive high school feeling a sense of dread fill him. He'd received a call about half an hour ago at the yard from the principal, Mr. Green, stating he was to come and pick John up due to him being suspended.

When he reached the office he saw John, sitting on a long bench by the door, he had a few small cuts and bruises as well as a liberal amount of dirt over his clothes. He'd been fighting.

"Ah, Mr. Lestrade." A man who must of been Mr. Green greeted him, "Please step into my office."

He shot John a disappointed look before leaving him on the other side of the door.

"Thank you for coming." Mr. Green began, "I'm afraid to say I've been expecting this but John had been caught fighting with other students, he even managed to give one of the boys a mild concussion. We're lucky his father doesn't press charges."

"You've been expecting this?" Lestrade blinked in shock, "John's never mentioned any trouble at school and this is the first I've heard of it."

The principal sighed.

"John is a bright boy, he does well in his classes and I can honestly say he tries very hard, harder than most. But he seems to have a real problem with authority, he's constantly sneaking out of class to do his work on the playground instead, he climbs buildings and he is easily provoked."

"We haven't said much until now seeings as despite the odd location he does do his work but this brawling is a serious issue."

Lestrade ran a hand through his hair, of course John would rebel in his own strange ways, even now two years after Moriarty's end he hated being told what to do. Mr. Green called John in and he was sat in the chair next to Lestrade's, he had his hands in his lap, twiddling this thumbs.

"He has, so far, refused to say why he attacked the other boys." Mr. Green continued, "John?"

"They started it." He replied petulantly, "They deserved it."

"John you gave a kid a concussion." Lestrade scolded, "That's serious."

"He called me a dog!" John growled, "He pointed out my neck scar to everybody saying that I was a dog and that it was from my flea collar!"

Ah.

Both Sherlock and John's school had ben informed of their pasts naturally, in case of any triggers of flashbacks. This was probably part of the reason why the teachers were so lax with John about breaking the rules, after all he was still doing the required work.

"John, I know it's hard to ignore those words." Lestrade started, "But if you start going around attacking people they will only do it more."

"I can't just ignore them!" John exclaimed, "They will walk all over me!"

"I think it would be best if we channel come of that energy into something else." mr. Green cut in, "John, how about joining the rugby team? You've always liked playing and I will make sure the coach knows to stop anybody who teases you about your scar."

John thought about it for a second.

"Nobody messes with people on the rugby team." He said finally, "I guess that could work."

-oOo-

Five Years Later

Lestrade had just finished a very long arduous day at the yard. They had finally wrapped up the murder of Daisy Jenkins and the paper work had taken him nearly as long as he investigations. Or at least it felt like it. He was very much looking forward to a quiet night but when he reached the door and heard the raised voices he knew it was not to be.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!" Sherlock screeched.

He found both his sons in the lounge staring each other down, twelve year old Sherlock was looking murderous while John just looked conflicted.

"I'm sorry Sherlock but I have to, you can't become a doctor without studying at university." John explained, "And Mycroft has promised to pay and everything for me to go to the best school there is, it just so happens that it's not in London."

"It's not fair!" Sherlock yelled, "Why can't I go too! I got into high school early, I'm already two years ahead and the work is still easy!"

"Sherlock you can't come with me-"

"Why can't you study here!?"

"Boy's boys!" Lestrade yelled trying to calm the situation, "Please, you'll disturb the neighbors."

"It's not fair! John gets to do everything first!" Sherlock yelled.

Greg wasn't surprised by this argument, ever since John Mycroft and himself had started discussing John's university applications they had been worrying about Sherlock's reactions. Mycroft insisted that John study at a school outside of London, John needed time to start acting as an adult and spending time away from home. While Sherlock needed to improve his social skills and talk to somebody other than John.

Despite the fact he'd been attending school for years and even skipped grades Sherlock still refused to socialize with his peers. Claiming they were all boring dullards.

"Sherlock...John needs to go to to uni, just like you need to go to school. You'll still see him in the holidays." Lestrade explained gently but Sherlock was not convinced.

"Fine. Let him go, I don't want him around anyway! It's not like he's ever home anyway, he's always out with some stupid bimbo." Sherlock sneered.

"Sherlock that's my girlfriend you're talking about!" John yelled.

"So? She's stupid just like the rest of them and just like you."

"Sherlock! Apologize right now!" Lestrade scolded.

"Why should I?" Sherlock asked, "He's the one whose leaving! Who cares about going to some stupid school to become a doctor?"

"I do Sherlock." John replied stiffly, "I've always wanted to be a doctor you know that, I thought you'd be happy I'm getting the chance."

"Fine! Leave then see if I care!" Sherlock yelled trying to hide the crack in his voice and the tears welling up in his eyes, "I don't care if you never come back!"

And with that he turned and ran into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Well that could of gone better." John sighed.

"You know he just doesn't want you to leave right?" Lestrade replied.

"I know, but I'm getting worried about him, he wont make any friends." John groaned, "We were so dependent on each other before we met you I don't think he knows how."

They waited for an hour but Sherlock had still not emerged from his room, finally John caved and knocked on the door.

"Go away."

"Come on Sherlock, it's my room too."

"Not for much longer, you're going to get your own room far away from me when you go to college."

"You know I'm not going to get away from you." John addressed the door.

"...I know."

"How about I study in London, but I still live on campus? You can come and see me every weekend if you want to and I'll come over for dinner some nights."

Sherlock opened the door looking hopeful.

"Really?"

"Sure," John smiled, "I'll even show you my medical text books."

"Thank you!" Sherlock grinned but John held up a hand to stop him celebrating just yet.

"On one condition." John added seriously, "You need to try and socialize with people your own age, or at least close to it. You need to make some friends."

Sherlock's face fell but eventually he nodded.

-oOo-

Eight Years Later

Life was great in John's opinion, he was in this third year of medical school, Sherlock would be finishing high school next year and he had finally made a friend. Victor Trevor seemed like a nice guy the times he'd met him, he and Sherlock got on famously.

However John was beginning to get worried, of course he knew once Sherlock made friends of his own he'd be spending less time with John but lately he hadn't heard from his little brother at all. He used to call and text constantly but not John was lucky if he even got a reply once a month. Every time he asked his father what Sherlock was up to he'd say he was with Victor.

Even Lestrade was getting concerned.

"I need to go to a conference out of town for the weekend." Lestrade told him over the phone, "Could you spend the weekend at home? I'm beginning to worry about Sherlock, he's been looking sick lately and he's been withdrawing into himself more and more these past few weeks. He wont tell me anything but he's never kept things from you."

"He's barely contacting me anymore." John replied.

"Please John I really think you should talk to him." Dad told him, "I was gathering up his washing the other day when I thought I smelt smoke, I didn't think much of it until yesterday though. I found cigarettes in his school bag."

"What!?" John blanched, "I'll talk to him, don't worry."

"Thanks John"

He knocked on the door but Sherlock didn't answer, he knew his dad had already left but Sherlock was supposed to be home.

"Sherlock?" He called opening the door with his own key, "Sherlock, are you here?"

At first he thought Sherlock must of left but then he heard a strange sort of humming coming from the living room. He walked in and found Sherlock stretched out on the couch in his pajamas with a lazy smile on his face. What grabbed John's attention however was the belt around his forearm and the needle on the floor.

"Jesus Christ!"

"No, just me." Sherlock giggled.

"What the fuck are you doing Sherlock?" John exclaimed running over to him and pushing up his sleeves revealing several needle holes and track marks. This was not the first time.

"I would of thought that was obvious." Sherlock hummed.

"How long has this been going on?" John yelled making Sherlock curl in on himself, "Tell me! You tell me right now Sherlock! Dad can't possibly know about this!"

"Course not." Sherlock shrugged, which apparently he found very funny because he started to giggle, which then turned into hysterical laughter.

"Sherlock! Get a hold of yourself." John tried to no avail, "Sherlock, you're scaring me."

Eventually Sherlock stopped and started humming again, John decided to leave him there on the couch while he searched his old room. Sherlock may be a genius but John knew almost all his tricks, after an hour he'd located several canisters of suspicious liquid and half a dozen needles. Which he immediately bagged for his father, he was no expert on drugs but his medical training plus the fact that his dad was a cop told him it was cocaine.

"Sherlock, where did you get this?" John asked.

His was finally coming down from the high and looked truly miserable, most likely because he felt ashamed John had seen him like that.

"Victor." he replied quietly.

John felt his blood boil but maintained a calm exterior.

"How long?" He asked simply.

"A few months." Sherlock admitted, "I swear you weren't supposed to find out, please don't tell dad."

"I have to and you know it." John replied sternly, "Oh, Sherlock...what on earth made you think this was a good idea? And smoking?"

"You know about that too?" He whispered.

"Dad does too." John told him, Sherlock hung his head.

"Victor started it, he found a stray packet and well, we tried them and we liked them." Sherlock squirmed.

"And the drugs Sherlock? You know what that shit can do to you, I thought you were smarter than that."

"I...I didn't want to at first but Victor started and he said it would help me stop thinking about it and..."

"Stop thinking about what?" John cut in.

He could practically see Sherlock cursing himself. John sat down on the couch next to him and tried to get the younger boy to look him in the eyes but he couldn't.

"Sherlock, please tell me."

"It's not important." Sherlock shifted.

"Obviously it is otherwise you wouldn't of turned to this as a distraction." John held up the needle, he could see Sherlock looking at it with a mix of hatred and longing.

"I was worried." Sherlock started, and once he had he couldn't stop it all came out so fast.

"Because last summer Victor and I, we...we...and then with that girl at our school Clara, when she came out her parents kicked her out of home and all the kids were talking about it and I was so worried the same thing would happen so I kept my mouth shut and then I kept thinking, what if you, Mycroft or dad found out? And then I'd be on my own again on the streets..."

He was close to hyperventilating at this point, the drug was still messing with him obviously, it wasn't like him to be so emotional. So Victor wasn't just his friend then...

"Okay, let me see if I understand what you are saying." John said slowly, "You turned to drugs because you wanted a distraction, because you were worried your family would hate you because you're gay?"

Sherlock looked like John had just accused him of murder.

"Oh Sherlock." John sighed, wrapping his arms around the shaking teen, "We could never hate you. You should of said something instead of pumping your veins full of drugs."

"You're gonna tell dad and Mycroft aren't you? All of it." Sherlock mumbled.

"Yes. They will be angry about the drugs you realize."

"I know."

-oOo-

Fifteen Years Later...

Lestrade was having a hell of a day, new trainees at the yard were making a mess of the filing system. He'd missed all his phone calls because of it too he was rushing around so much.

"Sir, your son's here." Donovan called.

This in itself was not unusual, in his typical dramatic fashion Sherlock had created his own occupation. Consulting Detective. In a way it was brilliant, Sherlock could deduce people easily and Lestrade found it was a good way to keep an eye on his youngest and keep him distracted.

Sherlock had been especially irritable the past year since John had left for Afghanistan. The elder boy was only a few years of thirty now and had just been promoted to Captain, making Lestrade both proud and concerned as a parent. But he believed in John, he would thrive in a war zone. Besides, he was an army doctor after all, he wasn't first in line for battle.

"Tell him I don't have a case for him now." Lestrade replied quickly trying to organise the files the new officer had messed up.

"I really think you should see him sir, he almost collapsed on his way up here. We've had to sit him down in the break room."

Lestrade was on his way before another word left Donovan's lips. Oh God what if he'd relapsed? John's absence was very hard on him, it was a distinct possibility. Sherlock was sitting on the couch staring at his hands with his face hidden behind his curls, he looked up when Lestrade entered but to his great relief, his pupils were not dilated in the least. They were however, full of tears.

"Sherlock what's wrong?" he asked, Sherlock looked shocked.

"Didn't you get the call too?" He asked.

"I've been run ragged all day, I missed all my calls." Lestrade replied, "What's happened."

"John." Sherlock moaned, "He's been shot."

Lestrade almost fell over.

"Is he..?"

"He's alive. Just." Sherlock breathed shakily, "They were trying to stabilize him when the head of their unit called me, if he...heals he'll be invalided home some time within the next month."

-oOo-

Being shot had to be one of John's least favorite activities. Closely followed by the physical therapy that followed said shooting. His shoulder had some nerve damage due to the fact the bullet had hit almost the exact some place he;d been shot when he was a kid and he had a limp nobody could explain.

It had been weeks but he was finally going home. Sherlock and Lestrade had been frantic in their messages, he knew they were terribly worried. Getting his cane through customs was a pain, though not as much as walking without it mind you.

He was barely out of the terminal when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

"John! JOHN!"

Before he could focus on the voice however he was enveloped by a large black trench coat and the person wearing it.

"You're alive." Sherlock sighed happily.

"Thank God." HIs father smiled joining Sherlock in the crushing hug.

"You are never going back there." Sherlock declared taking John's bag, "I forbid it."

"And I agree with him." Lestrade nodded.

"I miss you too." John smiled, "Don't worry I wont."

"We're a family all we do is worry." Lestrade grinned, John beamed back at him.

"I'm not sure what'll do now though, with this bum leg." John sighed.

"Oh no need to worry about that." Sherlock shrugged.

"Why?"

"It's psychosomatic." Sherlock replied smugly, "You stopped limping two minutes ago."

The End.

Wow this was longer than I thought it would be. I wanted to have an epilogue that showed John and Sherlock as normal people, after healing from Moriarty and their traumas. As for the making Sherlock gay thing, it was a spur of the moment decision. It's something I could see a young confused Sherlock getting worried about. Plus it's the 21st century, it's relevant.