Unexpected

Chapter VI

It had been a long day. When Jim wasn't resting he constantly complained about Sherlock's alleged advantage at the various games they played. Still both of them seemed to enjoy it, Sherlock especially because of having a significant opponent other than the sore looser Mycroft for once. Sherlock was still up, bored over the thought of being bored, when he heard it again. The scream. It scared him, although he would never admit it. For the sake of Mrs Hudson's sleep, John spent the night at Mary's, Sherlock decided to wake Jim again.

"Jim!!" Sherlock shook the already shaking figure awake. Jim's eyes searched through the room in panic.

"Are you okay?"

Jim slowly caught his hyperventilating breath and shook his head slightly.

Although every cell of his brain felt uncomfortable with it, Sherlock sat down on the corner of the bed, careful to keep a safe distance.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just the usual, you must know it."

Sherlock looked at him with confusion so Jim added, "Come on Sherlock, you can't tell me that sociopathic brain of yours doesn't hide some very dark roots. Who was it that turned you into this? Mummy? The evil uncle? No wait, Mycroft?"

"So it was your father," Sherlock concluded.

"Ohhh, good. Lovely man, my daddy. He taught me a lot," Jim laughed coldly, "maybe teaching me how to shoot was a mistake. How do you always say - I am a highly functional psychopath. Oh Sherlock aren't we matching perfectly?"

Pretty concerned about his state, Sherlock reached out to take Jim's pulse and scanned him, in order to see if he's okay. As always the man was quite good at concealing whatever was going on, just. No, this can't be. No. It's dark. Stop it Sherlock. It looked like for a moment as if his pupils had dilated. And his pulse... no, he was simply still agitated from the dream, not Sherlock's touch. Sherlock quickly pulled back his hand and got up.

At the door he turned around a last time, mistake. This time he was sure. Although Jim faced the other way his chest rose up and down way too fast and Sherlock could hear a shaky breath, he was crying.

The detective stood in the doorway, completely unsure of what to do.

As Jim realised Sherlock had noticed a sob escaped him. The former head of an empire of crime hated himself so much that moment. Sherlock had never been supposed to see... this. His fucking body acted completely on itself.

After what seemed like an eternity of paralysation Sherlock sat back onto the bed and reached out a hand to awkwardly touch Jim's shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

In between two shaky breaths Jim pressed out, "I'm scared."

After another uncomfortable moment of Sherlock not knowing what to do, Jim elaborated, "I keep seeing... him."

"Sebastian."

Jim nodded.

"That's okay, he betrayed you..." Sherlock tried his best to comfort the other.

"No Sherlock," Jim looked him in the eyes, "that bastard tried to rape me."

For once Sherlock was speechless. He had not expected that...

Jim broke out in tears again. Sherlock wished John was here, he would know what to do, so Sherlock simply stroked Jim's shoulder a bit and handed him a tissue from his nightstand.

Thank God he slowly calmed down. Sherlock took the chance to stand up, but Jim stopped him, "please, can you stay a bit?"

Sherlock sighted loudly. This situation couldn't get worse anyways. He threw his dressing gown carelessly to the ground and lied down on the free side of the bed, still on top of the sheets though. Sherlock was probably as surprised about his own action as Jim, but at the moment he just wanted him to not start crying again.

None of them said a word until Jim eventually passed out from his exhausting outburst. Sherlock did not dare to move and as absurd it was, eventually he felt asleep next to the most dangerous man of England. He would make sure nobody would ever hear from that.