I wake up again when the rain shifts to snow, fat white flakes falling quickly and soon managing to coat the damp ground we lie on. Sherlock wakes when I stand, reaching out to grab me and getting frustrated when I refuse to allow myself to be pulled back to the ground. I bark sharply, tugging on his sleeve and accidentally ripping the fabric as I finally manage to convince the boy to move with me and go back to the house, where a worried Mycroft is making his way down the path towards us.
"Sherlock-"
Sherlock runs over to Mycroft, launching himself into his brothers arms as he starts sobbing at notice of his heightened emotional state and tear streaked face.
"She's...she's gone...isn't she?"
"Yes."
~~~~
"Sherlock, you need to get out of bed."
The boy remains motionless on the bed, flinching harshly when I begin growling at the new figure that crosses the room. A new boy sits on the edge of the bed, yelling when I stand up to growl at him.
"Sherlock, call off your dog."
"I told you I didn't want to see you right now."
"Greg brought me over, Mycroft told me what happened."
"Go away."
"Come on, you need to get up. Please."
I lie down as I sense Sherlock's heart rate slow, curling up at the foot of the bed when the other boy reaches out and starts playing with Sherlock's hair.
"Please don't cry, everything is going to be alright. I promise."
"It's not though!"
"Shhh, it's okay. Come here."
Sherlock allows himself to be pulled up, wrapping his arms around the boy as he starts crying again. I sit up, lying my head on his knees in an attempt to calm him.
"Sherlock?"
"We're up here!"
Mycroft comes in a few minutes later, followed by a silver haired boy about his age.
"How's he doing?"
"He's talking to me, but that's about it."
"You're doing fine, he hasn't let me this close all week."
I look up, wincing internally as I see the fading bruise across his cheek from the last time he came into the room.
"Sherlock..."
He doesn't respond to Mycroft, but when the other boy tries he answers almost instantly.
"I need you to come downstairs with me, okay?"
"Okay."
His voice comes out emotionless and rough, all of the weeks screaming taking its toll on his throat in the form of soft, pained words.
"What have you done to yourself?"
Everyone turns to look at his arms, deep crimson standing out against his pale skin as a permanent reminder of what he is working through.
"Sherlock, you can't keep doing this to yourself."
The tears come silently, his eyes misting over as he runs over to Mycroft and burrows against his sweater.
"You're okay...just breathe."
