Turn Back Time (Potterlock)

Stressed Out

Mycroft and Greg were officially going out. It was disgusting.
Mycroft. Was. Going. Out. With. Someone.
Mycroft.
Eww!

"So, why did you end up running towards the Willow?" I asked Sherlock.

"Doesn't matter." Sherlock said. Three weeks into the term, and Sherlock had already retreated into his shell. I sighed, and shut the book.

Sherlock muttered "No, carry on reading."

"Sherlock. Enough secrecy, ok? I'm sick of trying. To survive in this world you're going to have to- to talk to people, and stop living in your own shell, your- your dream world!" I slammed the book down on the table.

Sherlock laughed dryly. "dream world? I would give anything for this to be a dream! Anything for the use of my eyes! Anything to have my brothers at my side! And you, Henrietta, say I live in a dream world. If this is a dream, then what's a nightmare?"

He was standing up, palms down on the table.

"Don't tell me how to live my life!" He growled. "Don't. Just don't."
I knew that he wanted to storm out, but I knew he knew he couldn't.
Couldn't get himself safely from the seventh floor to the common room.
Couldn't handle his anger.
Couldn't  hear his eldest brother's voice.
Couldn't see anything anymore.
Couldn't cope with the pressure.

Sherlock Holmes, the genius. Sure, he's blind, but he's still a genius. A machine. Clever beyond his years. People thought. Doesn't matter if he's a broken teenager underneath, he's a genius.

"I'm sorry." I muttered.

"No you're not. Don't lie." Sherlock said bitterly.

"I'm not lying." I said.

"You don't know anything!" Sherlock growled, getting louder by the moment. "You don't know what it's like! What it's like to be surrounded by darkness, even at midday! What it's like to be blind! What its like to be in love! What it's like to lose a brother! What its like to no longer be able to read! What it's like not knowing what your family looks like anymore! You don't know, and you never will!"

Sherlock hung his head, still resting his hands on the table.

"Henry." he said, breaking the silence. "Just say something. Shout. Cry. Anything. Let me know you're still here."

"You know me, Sherlock. You should know that I don't cry."

"Maybe you should." he said quietly.

What the hell was he going on about?

"Did you cry for him?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." I said. "Did you?"

"Of course." Sherlock said bitterly. "Will you cry for me?"

"I thought that was obvious. Yes, Sherlock, of course."

"Good." he swallowed, head still bowed.

"You said you were in love." I said suddenly, remembering.

"Forget it." Sherlock said, turning away.

"How can I, Sherlock? How can I forget any of this? You, finding someone who makes you happy, gives me something to celebrate."

Sherlock took a breath. "You're right. He does make me happy. Sort of. As happy as I'll ever be." he said  "And I don't even know what he looks like!" Sherlock finished angrily.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"No one of consequence." Sherlock said, turning away again.

"Well, he obviously is." I said, happy for my cousin.
Sherlock was in love.
Sherlock.