Fallen Stars & Healing

The First Step To Healing

 Sibley sat in the chair across from the older woman and played with the hem of her shirt as the two of them sat in awkward silence. Dr. Lane was unbothered and waiting patiently for a response from the now seventeen year old girl who was rolling the question around in her mind and debating if she even wanted to answer it.

Traumatized. That's what John had said she was a week after Sherlock's funeral when Sibley had yet again refused to eat. In just two weeks she had managed to lose enough weight that it had become noticeable, she had stopped speaking, and he heard her crying in her room almost every night. He had finally stopped dancing around her, sat her down and said-

"Sibley, I know you don't want to hear this but you have to get help. You're not just grieving, you're traumatized and it's affecting you. I can't let this go on any longer."

After more tears and her begging he made her promise to see a therapist. She was quickly diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and recommended medication. Sibley was a hard no on the drugs and John supported that decision, they both knew what drug use did to both of her parents. However, he did force her to continue to go to therapy, he said it would do her good. She knew he was right, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"Sibley," Dr. Lane snapped her out of her thoughts, "would you rather I ask a different question?" she asked gently. Dr. Lane was wonderful, Sibley could admit that, she was a kind woman who seemed to actually care about her well being, she was patient and understanding and accommodating to Sibley's needs.

"No. No, I'm sorry, just got lost in thought." the teenager replied. She did that often go into some headspace that sometimes she could easily be pulled out of, other times she couldn't, it always depended on the day, the thoughts, and how quickly someone caught her floating. She thought back to the question at hand was a simple one, it just forced her to think about things she'd rather not, though, that was most of the therapy.

Is there a specific event that you dream about most or are the dreams varied?

"They're varied... depends on the day before but..." Sibley trailed off and began to chew on her already short thumb nail.

"Sibley." Dr. Lane said softly. The teenager looked up and the therapist gestured with her eyes at the girls hand. Sibley immediately pulled her hand away from her mouth.

"I often have this dream where when I climb up the tree when I'm running away from Mor- him- I fall out and then I can see myself bleeding out on the concrete next to Amber, my father, and John." she said in a rush. She tucked her hands underneath herself, hunched her shoulders, and tucked her chin, something she did when she was feeling most vulnerable and was trying to make herself smaller.

Dr. Lane watched her carefully before speaking slowly.

"Is this a nightmare or a dream?" she asked. Sibley didn't have to ask what the older woman meant. She knew exactly what was being asked of her. If she could shrink anymore, she probably would.

"I... I think sometimes I wish it was real, because then I would be with everyone and it would be okay." she muttered. Dr. Lane nodded.

"And how are you feeling right now?"

"I'm not feeling particularly suicidal at this moment if that's what you're asking."

"Are you being honest."

"Yes. If I was feeling suicidal I wouldn't have told you about the dream. I may not be as smart as my father but I'm smart enough to know what might make you suspect me of wanting to kill myself." she snapped angrily. She often had mood swings, she could go from being nervous and fidgety to angry very easily, in fact it was the main swing she went through. Nervous to angry. It was a defense mechanism.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Sibley, from our conversations today I believe you are doing quite well but you know I have to ask." Dr. Lane said. Sibley nodded.

"I'm okay... For now..."

At the end of the session she walked into the waiting room where John sat, bouncing his leg nervously as he read the paper. Sibley had retreated back into her shell and quietly walked over to him. He smiled at her and stood. After sharing a quick word with the doctor he led his god daughter out of the office.

"How did it go?" he asked her.

"Like normal," she muttered, kicking a random pebble on the sidewalk as John hailed a cab.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"As much as normal." was the teens response. John sighed. It had been a few months since Sherlock had died and he was trying to support Sibley as best as he could but he knew well the effects of PTSD and how unmanageable it seemed at times. He couldn't imagine how hard it was for Sibley. She was still very young, not even an adult yet and she had been kidnapped and then watched her father and first love die right in front of her, all at the tender age of sixteen.

The two climbed into a cab and Sibley leaned on John. He looked down at her slightly surprised. Normally after an appointment she kept distance between herself and anyone around and avoided any contact with anyone. Now she seemed to be seeking comfort and John wondered if that meant it went exceptionally well or exceptionally bad. Teenage girls were hard enough to figure out without all of the added mental issues. He cautiously put an arm around her unsure of whether or not he should. It turned out to be the right decision as she didn't pull away, just turned into him more and closed her eyes and sniffled.

"It's really hard sometimes. I hate talking about it because I have to think about it." she whispered.

"I know," he said softly, "but it will get better."

"When?"

"In your own time."

"So at this rate never." she sighed and turned her head into his chest, he held her tightly to him, now it was 100% clear that she did want his comfort and he would do anything to give it to her, he felt that he at least owed her that. He wasn't able to save Sherlock, but he could take care of his daughter.

They made it back to 221B and Sibley was out of the cab and into her room before he could even finish paying the cabbie. He sighed as he walked into the living room. He had been wanting to move. The memories held at the flat were just too numerous and he thought it would do Sibley some good to go somewhere else, he just had to actually talk to her about it. He wasn't sure if she'd be upset with him or not.

Sibley laid on her bed and pulled her computer out, the one her father had given her so many months earlier, and began to type. That's what she had taken to doing when the emotions got to be too much to handle, she would write it all out. She had chapters and chapters and chapters written all about her father and her life with him. It was quite interesting, or at least she thought so. Never a dull moment when Sherlock was still alive.

After a few hours of writing she heard a knock at her door. She closed the laptop and called for him to come in.

"Hey, I was thinking maybe we could go to Angelo's tonight, you interested?" John asked. She shrugged, stood up, and grabbed her leather jacket.

"Sure."

~~~

"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," John said after their meals had come out. Sibley nodded.

"I can tell." She said warily. Whatever it was, it made John nervous.

"Listen, I know how lucky we are to be in 221B with Mrs. Hudson and everything, but I feel like it's time to move on to a new setting." he said. Sibley frowned and opened and closed her mouth a few times before looking at her hands in her lap.

"He's barely been gone two months, John," she whispered.

"I know. I'm not saying move on from what's happened. I'm just saying that flat isn't helping either of us heal. It's hard, Sibley." he said. She glanced up at him before looking back down. He was right. Sometimes she'd go lay in Sherlock's room that looked the exact same as it had before and just cry and while she wanted to say it was healing, it was probably hurting her more than anything and she was always getting flashbacks in the flat. Besides, John had been so helpful to her if this is what he needed she should give it to him. She nodded.

"Okay... okay. Let's move."