Borreeeddd, With life with everything: I don't want to be Sherlock anymore.

The diagnosis of alone.

I just want him to go away. Far away. Him being around it's all too much, too much of a reminder of what being close to someone was like. I don't see anyway of getting that back. Curling up under the covers of my bed, telling myself that it's okay I am safe here, because I am alone.

That was when I heard the knock at the door.

"Sherlock, Sherlock are you still awake?" 

Oh great just what I needed, it was Mycroft. I knew if I lied he would work out I was awake, Breathing pattern, pretty easy really. I didn't have much choice.

"Yes, what would you like now?"

He didn't bother to reply, but gently pushed open my bedroom door, flooding the room with a harsh light. He came over to my bed and sat on the edge. Pain. Hurt. Anger. Loss. They flashed through his eyes.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I can't stay here, I have a job, It's in London so I will be around."

I stared at him, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Not one word. So he continued.

"I know, I see the damage that you have done, I won't tell Mother. Just promise me you won't do it again."

Right great, glad he understands. Or not. It's not that simple. But I didn't want Mum knowing.

"Okay, promise. I will miss you."

He evidently believed me, or if he didn't he hid it very well. I don't know. I don't really care. Did he not understand anything anymore. No he didn't. He cared, maybe, but sometimes that isn't enough, I crave to be understood. Anger. Its crashed down on me. Overwhelming. Intense. Pure. Hatred. I wanted scream. I wanted to shout. But I couldn't. I can't. Expressing anger.

Expressing myself is bad. That's what Mycroft just said to me? Sort of. Well okay if this is what he wants okay. So I curled up tighter. Letting my pain pulse through me, not letting the blade take it away. I kept it inside, locked away, I pushed it away from myself. I didn't care about them anymore. Them, I don't know who, I don't know who cared anymore. No one. About right.

2:00

2:01

2:02

1000 heartbeats between every minute. Why could I not switch off. I need sleep. Stupid body why don't you get that? Fine okay, whatever. I won't sleep then. I pulled the corner of my curtain open. I watched the occasional few cars. The loud chatter of the people coming home from the party. All staggering slightly. All to dressed up for the state they were in. I feel like that constantly. I'm playing one big game of dress up, and I'm too damn good at it. The idiot who caused half the pain is the only one intelligent to see through it. Why not someone else. All I wanted was someone who cared. That's what I thought I wanted. But that's not going to happen, so I'm going to have to change my expectations to stop getting hurt. No one is ever going to care. I'm not going to expect anyone to. Fine. It's not all my fault. Apparently it is according to everyone else.

Mycroft told Mum. Great glad he trusts me, and I can trust him. I really should stop covering pain with sarcasm, but it's funnier that way, it still hurts, but at least I can smile then, so no one else knows. I never, ever want to have to do that ever again.

Mum came in, she brought my morning tea, as normal. But then she broke the normal. She sat down on the edge of my bed. She was nervous, terrified in fact. Tears flooded her eyes, blinking them away she barely managed to whisper,

"Mycroft, he told me, I'm such a bad Mother for not noticing, I'm sorry, I've been so caught up in work, I shouldn't have done. I know I can't turn back time, I'm sorry, I love you, you do know that, Right?"