"Hey I know it's 5 am but I'm bored" I texted out the letters slowly and hit send. I watched the dull screen until the three dots came up. He was awake too.
"That makes two of us, want to go on an adventure?
-SH"
"I'd love to."
"I'll see you in five."
Not even bothering to change out of my black silk, button up pajamas, I pulled my messy hair into a bun and then walked through my bedroom door. Once I arrived into my kitchen, I slipped on a pair of old beat up Converse and began my venture into the dark night. The streets were quiet and dimly lit as I walked down the concrete path beside my building. I put my keys in between my knuckles just in case I was caught off guard, something Sherlock taught me. Once I arrive at the convenient store which marks halfway between my flat and his, I walk in. The cashier bids me a good morning as I grab a pack of cigarettes and a monster. I pay for it in the small amount of change in my pockets before walking back out into the night. I kick a pebble along the sidewalk before looking up and seeing the dark figure staring straight at me. I put the cigs in my pocket and keep moving. His sillhouette seems to fill up the whole alleyway as I begin to walk slightly faster on my path. Where are my keys? I think I left them at the shop. I clench my monster anyways, itll have to be my only weapon if I have to defend myself against this random dude. I continue walking faster and faster until his alley is no longer in sight. I breathe outwards slowly and let the cold air rush back into my throat. I want to feel relieved, but I know that there is still a strong possibility that he is following me. I stop breathing altogether so that I can focus on any sounds from behind me, and sure enough I can hear footsteps. I allow myself to suck in sharply before turning around to face the man. I still can't see his face in the dark due to the hat he is wearing. I actually can't tell much about his figure either as he is wearing a large trench coat over his body. "Hey." I speak shakily as loud as I can. We both remain still on the path as he stays silent. "Who are you?" I ask. Hoping for even a snippet of his voice to use as leverage or evidence in the future but still nothing. "I have a gun." I warn. It's not the truth, but it's all I can use right now. Maybe if he thinks I have a weapon, he'll back off. He doesn't. I continue to stand about twenty yards in front of him in an awkward silence. All I can hear is the wind whispering behind me and the moon has gone behind the clouds, shrowding our pair in a dim wash of light. "Don't make me come over there." I speak up, shakily. He continues staring at me. I can feel his eyes on me as he brings his right hand to his face. I stay grounded as I watch him continue moving his hand up slowly until it rests on his hat. I try to focus my eyes on his silhouette to see what he's doing but my eyes don't want to cooperate. His figure shifts in and out of focus as he grips his hat and takes it off his head. I can see the very slight outline of curls atop his head reflecting the small amount of light coming from the street light in the distance. He starts crouching down until he is level with the sidewalk and rests his hat on the ground next to him. He straightens his legs again and comes back up to his original stance. He takes one step towards me and I instinctively recoil backwards and stumble. I cringe at my cowardly appearance and try to regain my balance. The panic begins to kick in as I suddenly become more aware of my situation. I'm unarmed and in my pajamas on the street across from a wierdo who could have god knows what in the pockets of his huge ass trench coat. I need Sherlock. I blink and almost as if on cue, the mysterious man is tackled to the ground. I cover my mouth to stop the squeak from escaping but it doesn't work. All I can see in the dark is the squirming outlines of two men struggling. The force from the tackle pushed the man in the trench coat almost halfway into an alleyway. After rustling around for a couple seconds I can't tell who is winning the struggle. I know the smart thing to do is take the chance to run, but my body won't obey. It's almost like I'm watching this from a different body's perspective as my feet freeze me into the pavement. I bring my wide eyes into a squint and I can barely make out one of the men on top of the other. He seems to be winning. I finally get control of my feet again and begin to back up and prepare myself to take off down the street at any moment. As I turn backwards my ears turn me back towards the alley.
"Oli!" I hear echo down the street in that oh so recognizable voice. I see the man on top get up. I recognize his silhouette and start running towards him. I finally connect with his arms and breathe in his comforting scent.
"What happened?" I say in an embarrassingly hysterical voice.
"All that matters is that you're safe." His smooth voice is all I can hear.
"No. Tell me what happened, Sherlock."
He breaks the hug and stands in front of me. He continues to hold onto my hips as if he's afraid to let go of me. "It was just a bum. No need to worry, Oli. I noticed you were taking longer than usual so I decided to make sure you were alright. I saw him walking towards you, so I reacted accordingly."
"He didn't look like a bum. What did you do to him?" I try to peer over his shoulder into the alley but he pulls my hips back towards him.
"The police will handle it once I send them a tip. We should go to the flat." He stares into my eyes, trying to imprint the information into me, knowing I'm distracted.
"I don't feel right." I pull my arms into me and start to sway, something I do when I feel anxious.
"Everythings alright, we just need to get back to the flat." He starts walking away from the alley and pulls me with him. I reluctantly turn around and walk beside him. His right hand remains on my hip. I watch my Converse move forward seperate from my brain as I begin to space out. Knowing it's this late and I'm this tired, I'm probably just starting to shut down. Sherlock notices that he's beginning to drag me along more than walk beside me, he starts playing with the silk hem of my pajamas. "Oli." He speaks calmly. I hum questioningly. "Stay with me ok? Just for now." I hum again. My eyes start drooping and my head falls. I continue the slow march with my feet, but everything above my hips where Sherlock continues to hold onto the bottom of my silk shirt feels numb. This happens sometimes. When I'm overly anxious or tired I either freak out or shut down. Right now it's very obvious even to my barely awake self that I'm shutting down. It's my body's way of preserving my sanity so I don't have an anxiety attack. I can just barely hold onto my core thoughts and feelings while my body and brain fill with a numbing fog. Even my slow marching legs begin to give out and Sherlock is quick to notice. Without speaking, he picks me up and begins to carry me all the way to the flat. I feel light-headed and dizzy and my eyesight goes dark, but I know my eyes are still open. The world turns blurry as my eyes lose focus and my mind completely shuts down. Thats the last I remember.
I wake up in bed at 221B. I feel the sheets under my fingertips as I feel tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. I hum a simple melody and it comes out croaky and broken.
The bed beside me is cold as I drift back into sleep.
I wake up again and the sun is shining through Sherlock's blinds. I roll over and groan, knowing I need to get up. I push the thick blanket off of me and rub my eyes. I don't remember much from last night except the man on the sidewalk. I get out of the bed and watch as the thin t shirt im wearing falls flatly onto my figure. I walk past the long mirror by the bedroom door and study my body for a short minute. My long legs are fat and I still don't have a full thigh gap. My hair looks like a nightmare, but I like it messy. I pull it into a bun and walk out the bedroom door and down the hallway into the kitchen. Sherlock is the first thing I see. He's sitting at the island watching something under his microscope. I yawn, getting his attention. He looks up and doesn't smile. He can tell I haven't been okay lately. He hasn't talked to me about it, but he can see the difference in my body and face. The only thing I consume is monsters. I never sleep. I've gotten thinner. I've been less active and and my skin is thin and pale. He knows I've been doing pills too, he's not stupid. The circles under my eyes are dark purple and stick out against my ghostly complexion. I've noticed it too. Every day in the mirror I study my face. I don't feel adequate. I walk towards the fridge to grab my monster and open it up. I manuver my hand past the bag of eyes and grab the light blue can. My eyes light up at the sight and I hold it to my chest. I smile at the thought of drinking it and close the fridge before turning back around to face Sherlock. He looks me up and down. His eyes reconnect with mine and he finally speaks. "You've lost weight."
"Thanks." I reply dryly. I walk past him and into the living room and crack open the can. I can smell the sweetness before taking a sip. I immediately feel more alert. The caffeine wakes up my senses.
"You shouldn't drink those." He speaks again.
"I like them." I say back and take another sip. I continue to face the wall. I don't want to look at him right now because I know what's about to happen.
"You know how you get after one of them." He refers to my anxiety, which is usually worsened by this much caffeine.
"I like it." I repeat and take another sip.
"Oli." He says sharply. I turn to face him and quickly inhale. "It's hurting you. That and the cigarettes. Not just physically but mentally, too. You don't think I notice the scars? The fact that you're not eating? Don't dig yourself into this hole again." I tear up at the thought of the words about to come. He continues "I know I can't control what you do to yourself but god, Oli, it hurts me to see you like this. So disconnected. Whenever you're like this it hurts because I don't know what to do. I always know what to do except when this happens. Don't think I haven't noticed the pills too. Just-" he begins to tear up as well. "Just please.", He finishes.
