His Soft Spot

Chapter 2

“We will finish this discussion in the morning, don't think you’ve gotten away with anything. You’re lucky Mycroft hasn't found out,” Sherlock said sternly, watching his sister play with the bit of egg left on her plate. Though minutes ago she had seemed to eager to eat, when Sherlock placed the food on her plate, she simply stared at it, announcing she wasn't hungry anymore. He seemed to pick up on something John didn't because he stared at her with wide eyes for a few minutes, scanning over her body, and then gently force feeding her.

            “It’s only five so I think you two can go sleep for a bit more, Carl you can sleep in my room, I’ll sit out here and finish an experiment I’ve been working on-“

            “Sherl, I’m not tired,” Carl interrupted him. If Sherlock’s gaze could’ve gotten any sterner- “You are tired, you just don’t like sleeping. You never have because of the nightmares. I’ll be right out here when you wake, I’ll be here the whole time. If you have a bad dream just call for me and I’ll come right away. You wont even have to leave the comfort of the bed.” John was staring at Sherlock like he was a new person; surely he wouldn't dream of comforting a younger sister after a nightmare? Did he even know how?

            “Will you play for me?” the girl’s suddenly soft voice, surprised John and he looked at her gently, watching as her eyes widened and she looked up at her big brother hopefully.

            Sherlock smiled quickly but shook his head, “It’s five in the morning and though it may seem like I have no concern for the neighbors, I don't particularly want an angry and sleepy Mrs. Hudson storming up the stairs and scaring us all. Now off to bed, the both of you.”

            John looked at him bemused, but shrugged and stood up, stretching, “Night mate, night Carl, it was nice meeting you, feel free to come to me if this brother of yours is no comfort.” She smiled at him softly and nodded, waiting for John to make his way to his bedroom before looking back at Sherlock. He was staring at her expectantly with a slight hint of sympathy on his face, “Off to bed Carlieta, you’ve had a long night.”

            “I don’t want to Sherl,” she whined, refusing to stand.

            He tilted his head to the side, “I’m very well aware, we’ve been through this. But though I may not care about my body, I care about my younger sister’s. So please, go to bed.”      

            “But the nightmares.” She said quietly, refusing to meet his eye. Ever since she was little, Carl had at least one horrid nightmare once every night; always an insanely realistic, vivid nightmare that she’d never told anyone but Sherlock about.

            “I know Carl,” he sighed. “But I’m assuming, since you came here with a suitcase, that you want to stay here. And if that’s so, you’re going to need to listen to me and prove to mother that I can care for you. If you want to go home, feel free, but if you’re here. You listen.”

            She glared at him for a solid minute, the room completely silent before standing up and slamming the chair out of her way, “Fine. Goodnight brother.” He only smirked, watching as she stormed into what she knew would be his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Like sister, like brother.