Promise - Sherlock.H

1. pilot

"No...NO! ARIELLE! No no no no this," i take a rapid, shaky breath and clasp onto my daughter's hand, "this isn't happening."

I feel sick, so so sick. It felt like a horrible creature was eating away at my insides and feasting on my thoughts. "Right?? Elle, darling? Hm? You're okay, you're just sleeping, yeah??" I stilled and listened. She wasn't breathing. Her warm, green eyes looked cold and empty without their usual sparkle. The pain inside me felt like it could rip me into tiny little pieces. My throat let out a noise that i'm not sure was natural for a human being, it sounded guttural and rough.

My now trembling hands held tight onto Arielle's smaller ones but they soon stumbled towards her face. Taking her small, freckled cheeks in my hands and stroking them with my thumb, i came to the dreadful realisation that my hand was almost the same size as her petite face. A raw sob racked my body and i felt that same feeling of pain in my abdomen again; though in a much stronger force.

The shouts and panic-filled voices around me didn't register in my brain, as all i could hear was obnoxiously loud silence. Cradling her lifeless body into me, i whispered distorted sentences into her neck, "It's okay. It's okay. Mama's sorry, yeah? You'll forgive me? Please i can't... i can't-" The words died on the tip of my tongue.

Five years. Five years of love and affection, happiness and memories. It disappeared in just five minutes. All of the little moments like her first step, her first word ( which was 'Baba' her designated name for her grandmother ), her first ice cream, her first-

Someone ripped Arielle from my hands. Through the tears i could vaguely see her being put on a medical stretcher; i quickly stood and took a step forward. Before i could grab her back, the last little piece of hope i have left in the world, my head hit the pavement and my eyelids fluttered closed.

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When i'd first awoken, i found myself in an unfamiliar hospital room with my mum sat beside my bed and clutching onto my hand. A sudden and unwelcome memory flashed in my brain of the last time i held my daughter, how i held onto her tiny body like a lifeline as she slipped away. Streaks of tears were visible on my mother's aged face and i frowned, reaching up to touch my own cheeks and finding fresh tears already falling. Awakened by my shuffling, my mum lifted her head and i took a deep breath, too mentally drained for the rush of questions i expected. To my surprise, my usually bubbly mother gives me a soft look and a peck on the cheek. I cried in her arms for the rest of the night.

————————- 7 months later

It's been a few months since Arielle's death.

At first i wasn't sure what to do with myself, not having my baby girl by my side, but I soon became familiar with that constant feeling of pain. The intense aching in every bone and tendon in my body and the never-ending churning in my stomach.

Grief.

I've become so accustomed to its horrid ways that other emotions have begun to feel numb. I vaguely remember feeling hatred. Towards myself. It was my fault, all my fault. If only it wasn't for- i stopped the thought before it began to escalate, i knew what path it would lead me down. Everyone would say that the grief i'm feeling is natural, but that still didn't make it any easier.

After the incident, my mum temporarily stayed with me in my 3 bedroom apartment, helping me cope with everything. We had both gone through a lot and we were trying to help each other as best as possible. She saved me from falling into a deep part of myself, a place i wouldn't have been able to come back from, something which i would be forever thankful for.

I'm think i'm getting better. I miss her so fucking much. But i'm better.

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"I'm back! Help me with the shopping, dearie."

"Coming mum," i jump up from the sofa and head to the kitchen to find my mother. Upon entering i notice she's bought a considerable amount of stuff. That's more than she usually buys, i think to myself before shrugging it off. While stocking up the fridge with a fresh litre of milk and an assortment of snacks, i notice her staring at me through my peripheral vision.

"Okay, what is it mum, you're freaking me out."

"Lia, darling, i was thinking..."

"Yes?" i question, curious as to why she was so hesitant to say what's on her mind. She sighs and sits down on one of the kitchen island's stools. I follow her lead and sit next to her, waiting for her to confide in me.

"I was thinking of moving back to my flat on Bakers Street."

"Wait what, why?" i'm not particularly against the idea, i mean as a full grown woman i can live on my own; but the idea of mum not wanting to stay with me makes me worry i've been burdening her.

As if reading my thoughts, she sends me one of her heart-warming smiles and assures me it's not anything i've done to make her uncomfortable.

"I just feel like you need to get back out there and stand on your own feet again, dearie," she informs me. I understand, and i agree with her; but i feel 19 again when i first moved out, not 28, with a decade of experience on my own.

After that day, her stuff was packed up fairly quickly and she was ready to leave by the end of the week. I took a cab with her to Baker Street ( which only took 10 short minutes as we both lived near central London ) and helped her settle in after months of being away.

"Oh darling i will miss living with you..."

"Me too mum, me too."

We enjoyed a few cups of tea and snacked on some biscuits before talking about my return to 'normal life' as she called it. "Listen, i'll be fine!"

"Yes, well you better not forget our deal! At least once a week you have to visit me," she stuck her pinky finger out towards me while a grin appeared on my face. "Now, promise me, will you?"

"Of course,
Promise."

   (1088 words)
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End of chapter one!! I wrote this in April 2022 and completely forgot about it... so i thought i'd try posting it.