AU: In which Hamish is beaten up at school because of his parents sexuality.
Hamish dragged himself back from school, his muscles aching from the beating he had taken. The beatings were nothing new, but this one had been particularly bad. He winced as he walked up the steps and unlocked the door, letting himself in. Mrs. Hudson was out doing the shopping, so he was able to go upstairs without her fussing.
However, getting past his fathers was another story altogether. He hadn’t made it an inch past the door when—
“Jesus, what the hell happened to you?” John cried out, pulling his son in through the door and sitting him down. “Who did this?”
“Dad, it’s nothing, really—”
But John was having none of it. He called Sherlock, who came out of his “laboratory” looking quite cross.
“John, I’m in the middle of—” He stopped, taking in his son’s swollen face, the bruising around the eye, the bleeding lip, the scrapes along the jaw and the wrists. “Who—”
“I was just asking him.”
“And I was saying that it was nothing,” Hamish said forcefully, moving to get up, but John wouldn’t let him. “Dad, really. It’s nothing that I can’t handle. Can I please go now?”
John shook his head and sat down in front of his son. “No, you’re not leaving until you tell us who did this to you.”
Hamish merely averted his eyes and wiped the blood that had been trickling out of his nose with the sleeve of his jumper. All he wanted at that moment was a hot shower.
Sherlock walked forward until he was standing right in front of Hamish, his eyes sparking with ill restrained anger. “Who was it? Was it Ben Hawkins? Ted Whishaw?”
Hamish didn’t answer for a second, staring down at Sherlock’s shoes, taking in the acid stains at the tips. “They said…it was because my parents are gay,” he said softly, hoping that they hadn’t heard. It was the last thing he wanted them to hear. That they were the cause of his weekly beatings.
When he looked up, he knew that they had. Both men exchanged weary glances. John looked as if he had had the air had been knocked out of him. Sherlock stooped so that his face was level with that of his son, but he didn’t have anything to say. He didn’t know what to say.
John broke the silence after a minute.
“No…no don’t. It’s not your fault,” Hamish said after a moment, looking them both in the eye. “It never was. I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s better than…” but here he stopped. He never liked talking about the foster home. The memories he had of the place weren’t the most pleasant of things to look back on. He let out a small laugh. “Do you know what they said? They said that I was a garbage child. I was thrown out and only fags would want to keep me.”
John flinched slightly at the word, but Sherlock remained stoic.
“I told them that at least my parents wanted me. You two chose me because you wanted me. No one forced you to get me. No one kept you from giving me back or getting rid of me. None of the other kids get that. I told him at least I didn’t have to worry about my dad shagging the secretary from work, which got to Ben. His dad’s been cheating, it’s so obvious. I could see it plain as day when he came to pick Ben up last week. His shirt sleeves were rumpled, which isn’t necessary for—”
John’s mouth quirked upward slightly at the way his tone quickened as he gave a detailed deconstruction of the wrinkles of Mr. Hawkins’ shirtsleeves.
Hamish shook his head. He wasn’t going to waste time talking about Ben Hawkins or his dad.
“I’m not an obligation, like he is,” Hamish said, picking at his torn jeans. “I was a choice. And you were mine.”
reblogging because you’re perfect and this is perfect and yes.