A Miserable Day

It's a dark and dismal day. The sky above is full of dark clouds, ready to drop a shower of rain at any moment. The scent of wet dirt and smoke fills the air, as I walk silently down the road. I have no plans for today, I just want to walk and think.

A cold gust of air blows my hair behind me, goosebumps cover my neck. As much as I like the cold weather, I'm not a fan of it at this moment.

The sky gets darker. But I keep walking.

Thunder echoes loudly, the people on the street in front of me run inside.But I keep walking.

The street lights up as lightning strikes across the sky.But I keep walking.

A carriage drives by, splashing water all over my legs. Normally I would yell, maybe even throw my hands up and curse, but today I don't have the energy to. I just want to walk, and keep walking, even if I walk off a cliff.

I get this way sometimes, where I can barely eat or speak. My mother worries, but we both know I'll be alright. It'll be over in a week or two, but for now I'll just suffer through.

My body comes to a stop, someone's grabbed my hand. I look up to see a familiar face staring down at me.

"Are you walking in the rain?"

I look around slowly, I didn't even notice it was raining.

I turn back to him, "It appears so."

Sherlock begins to walk, pulling me along with him. I stumble behind him and look up to see that he's pulling me to a carriage.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He helps me into the carriage and quickly jumps in. "Taking you to my place, where it's warm and dry."

I say nothing and look out the window, I'm too tired to argue. My head rests against the window as I watch the rain drops slide down. The city looks so peaceful in the rain, everything is gray and beautiful. The streets are quiet with only the sound of the rain drops falling.

The carriage stops, I slowly turn to see Sherlock already standing outside, holding his hand out to me. I immediately take his hand and jump down. He ushers us into his apartment building, and lets out a loud sigh.

"Are you okay?"

I nod slowly, "Yes."

He stares at me briefly, his blue eyes scanning my face. I can see that he's worried, but he's trying not to show it.

He grabs my hand softly and leads me up the stairs, our wet shoes squeak along the way. I cringe at the squeaking. Why is everything so loud today?

We enter his apartment, it's cleaner than normal. Watson must be organizing everything. I stand at the door quietly, why did he bring me here? What am I supposed to do?

Sherlock returns with a stack of dry clothes, "These are Enola's, I'm sure she won't mind you borrowing them."

He hands me the clothes and points to a bathroom. "You can leave your wet clothes hanging above the tub."

When I walk out of the bathroom I see him sitting on his couch, he's wearing dry clothes now.

"Mind telling me what's going on with you?" he asks, not even looking up from his book.

I sit in the chair across him him, "There's nothing going on with me."

He sets his book down, his eyes staring right into my own. "Then why were you walking in the rain by yourself?"

"I just wanted to walk, I didn't even know it was raining."

I acknowledge that I sound insane right now, but it's true. I was so caught up in my thoughts, that I hadn't noticed the rain.

"You're depressed," he says.

My eyes meet his again, "Yes, I think I am."

"That's to be expected after going through a traumatic event. It's only been two weeks since your kidnapping."

"This has been going on since before I left Texas," I say quietly.

"Have you told anyone?"

"No, why would I? It's not a big deal," I reply.

He shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath.

"Sometimes talking about it helps."

I shrug my shoulders, "I'd rather not talk about it at all."

"Enola says you two have picked up a few cases recently."

He's changing the subject, I can't help but smile gratefully.

"Yes, although she says I'm not allowed to work until this Thursday."

He nods, "She's a very worrisome person."

"Yes, but I'm very thankful to have met her," I pause for a moment, his eyes watch me carefully, "and her drunken brother as well."

He looks at me with wide eyes before regaining his composure. "I'm thankful to have met her stubborn partner."

I can't help but smile at his words, this man will always have such a strong effect over me.

The front door opens and in walks a very annoyed Dr. Watson. "Have you ever seen such a miserable day? I slipped five times coming up the stairs just now!"

I cover my mouth, trying to quiet my laugh, but it doesn't work.

"Are you laughing at me?"

He looks at Sherlock, "She's laughing at me!"

"How could I not?" I ask, laughing.

Sherlock smiles, it's not a smirk, nor is it a flash of a smile. It's a true smile, one that lasts long enough to cause me to smile as well.

Sherlock suddenly stands up, I watch him curiously as he walks around the room. It seems that he's looking for something, or maybe he's just trying to distract himself.

He sits at his desk and begins to write. What on Earth is this man doing?

I leave the chair and walk over to stand beside him. My eyes scan the papers in front of him, they must be from a new case.

"What's your new case about?"

He jumps, as though he didn't realize I had been standing next to him. I can't help but smirk, it's not very often that you get to scare Sherlock Holmes.

"This isn't a new case, these are about Marcus," he says.

My blood runs cold at the name, but I ignore the fear.

"What about him?"

Sherlock eyes me cautiously, "I'm trying to figure out why he was after you."

I pull an empty chair up next to Sherlock and look over his notes. "He said he was using me to get to you, but he never said what it was you did to him."

I grab a paper from the messy desk and read it. It's a psych evaluation that I'm guessing Sherlock did on Marcus.

"Bipolar?" I ask.

Sherlock leans back in his chair, "That's what I concluded."

Bipolar seems accurate, but I remember the moments Marcus would yell at the wall. It was as though he was talking to someone that I couldn't see.

"I think he also might have schizophrenia."

I quickly shake my head, "Sorry, I'm not trying to overstep my boundaries."

"No, I think you're right. I just can't believe I didn't notice," he says, staring down at his papers.

"He would yell sometimes, like he was talking to someone. He kept repeating the name 'Martha'."

Sherlock freezes, his hands tighten around the paper until it rips. He doesn't seem to notice though, his eyes are focused on the wall in front of him.

I'm not sure what to do in this situation, so I rest my hand on his. "Sherlock?"

He drops the papers and looks back at me, his eyes are distant.

"It's getting late, I should take you home," he says, standing up to grab his coat.

I follow him outside, his shoulders are still tense, and his hands are balled into tight fists. Who is Martha, and what happened?

Our walk is silent, until we make it to my house.

"Thank you," I say softly.

He nods in response and turns to walk away.

"Don't worry yourself over the case, make sure you get some rest, Mr. Holmes."

He looks back at me, a small smile on his face. "I will."

"I mean it, Sherlock. I'll be dropping by tomorrow to check on you," I say, pointing a finger at him.

He walks back to me, causing me to back up in surprise.

Sherlock adjusts my coat, it's an odd thing to do, but I say nothing.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod slowly and watch as he walks down the street, turning the corner.

He'll spend all his time trying to figure out the Marcus case, I'm worried but I know this is just his way of doing things. I just hope he'll be okay.

This update is for the people with daddy issues. Dads are shitty, but I hope you all have an amazing day ♡