Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXIV • 74

John's POV:

I'd had a short shift and was already on my way home by noon. I climbed the stairs and opened the door. I was about to announce my arrival when I saw the two of you. Sherlock was sitting on sofa, his head back and his eyes closed. You were in his arms, curled up on his lap, with your face buried in his neck.
I had to smile.
I walked forward and he opened his eyes.
"Were you sleeping?" I asked.
"No, not really." He lifted his head, careful not to wake you, and blinked rapidly.
"Looks like someone's forgiven you." I said with a soft smile.
"Yeah, I hope so." He glanced down at you and I could once again see just how much he cared for and loved you.
You raised your head and blinked owlishly. "Hi John." You said, seeing me standing there.
"Hey sis."
You tried to sit up and Sherlock lifted you off his lap and onto the sofa beside him. You blinked several more times and wiped your eyes, then stood up and retrieved the tea that was sitting on the table in front of the sofa and stumbled to the kitchen.
I took the time to talk to Sherlock.
"Is everything alright?"
He sighed. "Yeah, she was just upset about my injuries."
I nodded. "Speaking of that, did you take your medicine today?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
I glared at him until he got up and made his way to the bathroom where his painkiller sat untouched on the sink.

Sherlock's POV:

I took my medicine to humour John, but I couldn't concentrate on my own pain when I thought about yours. It hurt my heart that, ultimately, I was the cause of this extreme. I bit my lip. I couldn't stop thinking about it.
The thought of what you'd done to yourself made me think of the depression. The depression made me think about your childhood. Your childhood made me think about Sebastian.
Sebastian.
I had to tell you. I had no idea how I would do this.
You'd said that you remembered bits and pieces of those few years, but I had no idea if you remembered what had actually happened.
I knew that those memories were painful for you, and I understood exactly why. You'd buried them, locked them away, the same way I had mine, and digging them out again was torture. Worse than torture, as I could now say from experience.
The last time you'd told me about it- the first time- it had been in reaction to my telling you.
I couldn't keep this from you.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Can I come in?" I heard your voice, a quiet murmur.
"Yeah." I said, just loud enough for you to hear.
The door opened and you slipped inside, closing it behind you. You looked utterly exhausted, but wrapped your arms around my middle as soon as the door closed. I tried not to wince, and returned your hug, although I wasn't sure what brought it on.
"Thank you for not telling him." You said, mumbling into my chest.
"It's not mine to tell." I responded. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that I care." Then, mustering up my courage, "Do you want to talk about it?"
You pulled away and I saw the skepticism and fear on your face. And yet, to my surprise, you nodded.
You left the bathroom and I followed.
"John." You addressed your brother. "Could you do the shopping? I'm really tired." That wasn't a lie. You didn't have to fake the exhaustion on your face.
"Yeah, no problem, sis. Get some rest."
"Thank you." You smiled gratefully and lay down on the sofa.
John grabbed his coat and headed out the door. I stood by the window to make sure he'd actually left. When I saw his cab pull away from the kerb, I sat down next to you. You opened your eyes and looked up at me. You sat up and scooted closer to me. I welcomed you with an arm around your shoulders and you leaned against mine.
I took a deep breath. I had no idea how to approach this. Finally, I asked the only question I could come up with, hoping you wouldn't shut me out. "How much do you remember?"
You didn't answer for a long moment, a mask of negative emotions on your face.
"Not much." You finally admitted.
I was quiet, waiting for you to continue.
"I remember..." You paused. "I remember a boat. And... and a boy. He was older I think." I saw uncertainty cross your face. "A brother. Did I have a brother, Sherlock?" You looked up at me with something like fear on your face.
I couldn't lie to you, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"Not.. exactly." I sighed. "A half brother. You have a half brother."
Hurt now replaced the fear on your face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just found out. When you were comatose." I kept my arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively. "And.. and I was scared, I was scared to see you, and I was in the hospital."
You sagged a little. "Who?" You asked.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Sebastian. Sebastian is your half brother."