Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXV • 75

You pulled away, your face pale. You looked sick. You got up and ran to the bathroom.
I could hear you vomiting. I understood. I'd almost done the same when I'd found out. I got up, went to the bathroom and pulled your hair back for you, holding it up and laying my other hand on your shoulder. You eventually looked up, tears in your eyes.
"How is this possible?" You asked with a moan, then turned back to the toilet bowl you were leaning over.
"I don't know, love." I murmured. I knew this wasn't the time to launch into the possibilities and probabilities of the entire situation, although they were running laps in my head.
Your stomach finally empty, you looked up at me and the hurt on your face made my own stomach turn and my heart break. I'd dabbled in sentiment when I shouldn't have and now I was in too deep. There was no turning back at this stage.
I kneeled on the floor next to you and laid my hand in yours. I just hoped you weren't upset at me.

Your POV:

You were disgusted. That low down scum was your brother. Perhaps it was just because of John, but to you, a brother meant someone who cared about you, who loved you, who'd do anything to keep you safe. Not someone who pretended to be your friend then double crossed you. Now that you'd dredged up those memories, more came in rapid fire. The fish, the alcohol, the beatings, the boy.
In your mind's eye, the boy that was Sebastian was kind and humble. You closed your eyes and a memory flashed before you.

Sebastian shielding you from a monster. He cowered in front of you, trying to help you, but he was kicked out of the way and the monster had grabbed you. It had been your father- your own dad- grabbing you and holding you up like a newborn pup. You heard the boy scream your name...

That was all. That was all you could remember. You opened your eyes and Sherlock sat beside you, right there on the bathroom floor, his eyes filled with concern and distress, his hand in yours.
He squeezed your hand gently and you looked up at him. You felt so vulnerable and you usually shut down when you felt that way. You'd shut everyone out as a means of coping, but he'd done nothing but help you. He understood because he did the very same thing.
His eyebrows knit together and the concern in his eyes made you feel less like giving up.
"What can I do, (N/N)?" He asked this quietly, still grasping your hand.
"I- I don't know." You spoke equally as quiet, after a long moment looking into his imploring eyes.
Eventually, you asked the one question you needed to know the answer to. "How much more do you know?"
He looked away for just a moment, let out a sigh, then got up. "Come on."
He helped you to your feet and nodded toward the living room.
He sat down and clasped his hands in front of him, staring at his feet.
"Sherlock, how do you know so much about my childhood?"

Sherlock's POV:

I had to tell you everything.
"When you were poisoned, they incarcerated John-"
You let out a quiet sob here, and I took your hand again.
"He'd known what you'd been poisoned with before the doctor made his report. He'd analysed your symptoms and made a logical conclusion, but the police thought that was suspicious. They brought him in for questioning and when Sebastian was mentioned, he too was taken in. But he'd created a solid alibi for himself and they convicted John. He sent me a message and as soon as I had gotten out of Pullach, I used my brother's resources to compile evidence on Sebastian. With his help, I was able to reverse John's sentence and convict Sebastian instead. As for him being your brother, I got my first suspicions when I read the police report on John's arrest. It said that you were born Moran."
"That's not what they told me, they said I was Farley, it's on the adoption papers, I swear it is!" You were frantic, almost trying to change the facts.
"That was your mother's last name." I said, calming you the best I could. "I got to come back after that, Germany was the last on my list. I came back and I needed revenge on Sebastian. I dug into his past, and frankly, it's sad. Your father..." I trailed off.
"He was a monster." You said, quietly.
"You remember?" I asked.
You nodded. "A little."
I felt a stab of pain and even a little guilt. I'd complained about my own childhood being a mess, but it had been a cakewalk in comparison.
"I'm so sorry." I whispered.
You took a shaky breath and lifted your head. Resolve plastered across your face, you looked me in the eyes.
"It's okay."
I saw your strained smile falter a little, but it didn't disappear. "I'll be okay. I don't have to deal with either of them now."
"Are you... sure?" I gazed at you earnestly.
You nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I'll get over it. Thank you."
"For what?" I asked, genuinely confused. I'd done nothing.
Nothing right.
"You've helped me so much, Sherl. You need to stop underestimating yourself." You'd crawled closer to me and now you laid your head on my shoulder. "You've changed everything for me, you've been there for me, you're my best friend, Sherlock."
I was rather shocked, and then I felt guilty. I'd been selfish, still blaming myself for everything when it was so evident that you'd forgiven me a long time ago.
"I love you, (F/N)." I kissed your hair, and you lifted your head, kissing my lips instead.
I sighed contentedly, everything I'd blamed myself for suddenly melting away.

"It is through the fire where our true heart is revealed."