Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXIX • 79

Sherlock's POV:

I stood outside your door, staring at the wooden barrier. This had been so unexpected, and yet understandable. You'd faced so many reminders of your troubled past without breaking- you could only last for so long.
You needed a break. That's what you'd said. I knew you wanted to bury all of your memories once again, hide them so you wouldn't have to think about them.
A break from what?
I had to assume you meant from our... whatever it was that we had- whatever was between us. The only word that could honestly describe it was relationship. And that relationship required that you express your emotions and that you open up. You needed a break from that so you needed a break from us.
That broke my heart.
I didn't dare open the door and try to talk to you again, so I climbed the stairs slowly, my head low.
I flopped into my chair, receding into my mind- my only escape.

John's POV:

I came down from my room in response to the whistling kettle that I'd set to boil a few minutes earlier.
"Hey Sherlock." I said, noticing him in his chair.
He didn't respond, something I was used to, but his face displayed the most dismal expression I'd seen on him since he'd met you.
I made my tea, then tried again.
"What's up?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
"Yeah right." I muttered, heading back to my room.
He sighed heavily. "It's (F/N)."
I turned back to him and he looked almost helpless. "She.. she's hiding again."
I was confused for only a moment before I understood.
"Was there a trigger?" I asked, sitting on the sofa.
"I think it was the case." He said, but continued quickly before I could say anything. "I told her she didn't have to help, I knew it was... difficult. But she wanted to, she said she wanted to help those girls... And then.." He trailed off. "And then she said she couldn't express her emotions any more and she needed a break and she told me to leave." He sounded so impotent, his face displaying worry and self-guilt.
I sighed. You'd done this to me before too, but it was something I knew you'd get over eventually. Sherlock had never experienced it and I knew he couldn't help but feel that it was his fault. I also knew that this could very well ruin the only relationship he'd ever felt comfortable pursuing.
"I'll talk to her." I said, finally.

I knocked lightly on your door and waited. I heard a shuffling of footsteps and you cracked the door open a few inches.
"Hey sis." I gave you a compassionate smile.
You opened the door wide enough for me to come in. Your steely expression took me aback, but I sat down in your chair anyway.
"Did Sherlock go complain to you?" You asked, your voice devoid of emotion.
"No." I said. "He's shut down again. I had to pry it out of him."
I saw guilt flicker across your face in response, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. You said no more, so I continued.
"I get why you're doing this (F/N), but it's-"
"No you don't." You said, quiet anger in your voice. "You will never understand, John. You had a perfect childhood and you will never get the idea of your own father and brother nearly killing you."
I exhaled slowly. This would be difficult. "(F/N), I'm not suggesting that I understand what you went through. With that I can only sympathise. I'm saying I understand why you shut everyone out. I get that it's the fear of falling apart. I'm not even scolding you for that decision. I'm just here to let you know that it was immensely difficult for Sherlock to open up and your snapping shut shocked him into doing so himself. He's heartbroken, (F/N)."
I was hoping that saying that would soften you, but instead I saw you clench your jaw and you whispered fiercely. "Well then maybe it was better when he didn't have a heart."
That rattled me. I got up and left, throwing a glance over my shoulder that I hoped conveyed my disappointment and my concern at the same time. I shut the door quietly and returned to our flat. I didn't say anything to Sherlock, who was unresponsive in his chair, his eyes shut and his hands clasped.

Your POV:

You saw John leave and immediately felt guilt and anguish. You'd not yet perfected the act of ignoring your emotions. That would take a few days. And yet, despite what John had said about Sherlock's reaction, you told yourself that this was for the best and that he'd forget about it. That he'd get over this and return to his former self- the one who shut everyone out and who was devoid of emotion.
You tried to focus on the case, tried to ignore the guilt that was building.
Without really thinking about consequences, you took up your coat and headed out the door. You hailed a cab and slid in, your mind focused on one thing and one thing only. You needed to rescue those girls.
"Creswick Road Children's Home." You said, and the cab pulled away from the kerb with a squeal of its tyres. You were so focused on your destination and what you'd do when you arrived that you didn't even notice the flash of the camera.