Falling Stars and Cigarettes

A Lot Like Pride

House arrest was the worst. Of course, Sibley didn't exactly have a choice, Moriarty was out there, probably livid, and she was in danger. Due to this impending doom that seemed to now follow her everywhere she went, she was stuck in the walls of 221 Baker Street. Sometimes she would get bored and go hang out with Mrs. Hudson or go to 221C and work on fixing it up. People had come by recently to clean up the mold and such so it was now safe for her to make it her own space. Still, though, she was insanely bored, being stuck inside was not her idea of a good time. She needed to do something. Be productive. She was insanely ahead on school work, finally picking up on things and the fact that it was online and she could go at her own pace. What didn't help was that she couldn't sleep the hours away either. Whenever she did manage to get some shuteye, she had nightmares and would quickly wake up, sweaty and shaking.

However, she wouldn't dare try and leave the flat. She wasn't the best at following authority and typically being cooped up meant she would just sneak out and do what she wanted, but that wasn't an option. Moriarty terrified her to her core. After coming down from the anger at Sherlock and lust for Amber, she truly began to realize the weight of everything. She had slept in the same home as a psychopath. It was awful.

Some nights, her terrors held a cabbie, killing her before she could be found. Others held Moriarty and Sebastian and all sorts of horrors. She regretted the bright idea to do more research on Moriarty and his crimes because it only fed her brain more ammo to torture her with in her sleep. James Moriarty was freaking crazy. He was also heartless. Sibley knew that if he found her, she wouldn't make it. She would suffer and nothing would hold him back. He lacked the humanity to care about what happened to her. Her father had even told her that everything he did was to rid his boredom. He came up with insanely creative ways to murder and torture people because he was bored. It sent shivers down her spine.

One particular night, one that happened to be worse than others, she couldn't control herself. Typically, she just woke up crying, quiet enough that the residents of the flat slept through her misery, but not this night. This night, she could feel the pain inflicted on her in her mind. She could see her captors laughing and watching her with black, hollow eyes. And Moriarty.....

This dream was enough to send her into a frenzy. She screamed, kicking and turning in her sleep.

Sherlock had been downstairs, eyes scanning his laptop screen as he worked to find a way to take down Moriarty. Just knowing where they were staying wasn't enough. Moriarty was too powerful with too much influence and not enough evidence piled up against him for anything. Besides, he would never make it so easy for himself to be captured. He needed to figure out Moriarty's game and soon. He could tell Sibley was getting more antsy every day and he knew she got her restlessness from him, her being bored for too long wasn't going to end well. Plus watching her suffer and lounge around, horrified to be alone lest Moriarty take her, was too much for him. As he was working, he heard her scream, loud and terrified. He jumped from his chair and sprinted to her room. John was out of his own room within seconds, hot on his flatmates heels.

Sherlock slammed the door open, flipping on the lights, to find the room empty. Sibley was still screaming, but her eyes were closed as she jerked around on the bed. Sherlock barely had a second breath of relief before he ran over to the edge of the bed. John backed out of the room quietly, relieved that she was okay, worried about her fear, and ready to let Sherlock handle it as he went to make tea to calm his adrenaline down so that he could sleep. Sherlock grabbed her and held her into him, not too put out by her thrashing and trying to calmly wake her. She stopped with a jolt, pulling up with a force.

When her eyes opened they were wide and full of terror. She didn't stop her thrashing, now she pulled herself out of Sherlock arms- which he let her knowing she'd come back to reality in a few seconds- and scrambled off the bed and to the back of the wall. He watched her with a raised eyebrow as she looked around. Slowly she began to breathe as she took in her surroundings. She looked at Sherlock and sighed in relief, finally back to real life. Still, her tears didn't subside. She climbed back onto the bed.