Selfless | Sherlock

Things that go Bump in the Night

I was awoken by the body beside me lifting off of the mattress roughly at what could have been any hour of the night. My eyes were slits against the darkness as they attempted to locate the perpetrator: Sherlock.

"Sherlock, why on Earth are you awake at this hour," I groaned.

It took a moment for the dark figure to respond, and the answer to my question merely caused a spike in my heightened anxiety.

"The case," he said bluntly.

My heart began to race as my mind reviewed all of the possibilities, including the assumption that another message had been relayed using the pink phone and we had been incorrect in our assumption that the nightmare had paused for the time being. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pushed myself onto my feet, regardless of the hour.

"What case?"

"The one my brother has been on about, he seems to text you about it near constantly."

My trembling legs began to still, and I nodded at him sharply in the darkness before heading to the kitchen to prepare myself a cup of coffee to keep my exhaustion at bay. My hands seemed to work with a mind of their own as they took control to pour the correct amount of coffee into the machine. The steady groaning of the blender did nothing but lull me into an even greater haze, one that was only broken when the consulting detective walked in. 

"Why are we working on a case this early?" I questioned, a yawn attempting to fight its way out of my throat.

The detective eyed my tired form and did not speak a word before leaving the flat, not even being considerate enough to shut the door quietly as to not wake John. My exhaustion assisted in suppressing my annoyance, and my hands finished their task of preparing the cup of coffee. I sipped at it cautiously, grasping the mug tightly in one hand before preparing to journey to my own flat in order to visit with the Winchester brother. My legs carried my sleep deprived body dutifully to the door, and I was sure to close it gently as to attempt to allow John more sleep than the rest of the residents of 221B. 

I carefully unlocked the door to my own flat and slid inside before immediately relocking it the moment I escaped the crisp morning air. I was greeted by a soft yip from Echo and the dog leapt on me, nearly knocking the mug of coffee from my hand. My free hand found its way into her course fur, and made sure to scratch behind her ears vigorously before I set the mug on the counter and poured food info her bowl. Once it was fool, I washed my hands and headed to my room where Sam resided.

"Sammy," I whispered softly into the dark room as I opened the door after knocking once.

Immediately I was pinned to the wall, his arm holding me against it and a knife to my throat. Echo snarled from behind me, but stayed entirely still when I shot her a warning glance.

"Sammy," I choked out, gasping for air as he released me and took a step back, dropping the silver knife to the floor.

As a barely visible thin line of blood formed on my neck, I leaned down to snatch the blade and immediately slid it across my arm to draw a small trace of blood. My silouhette against the harsh light seeping into the room from the open door stood in stark contrast, and I tilted my arm into the light to prove to the Winchester that my blood was in fact, red.

Echo trotted up and stood dutifully at my side, glancing between both Sam and I. The mountainous man had regret written across his every feature, and he opened his mouth to voice his apology only for me to raise a finger to his lips. 

"It's alright."

The Winchester threw his hands into the air before storming over to turn on the light inside of the room, revealing his red face and bloodstained eyes.

"No, it isn't. I could have killed you."

"Sammy," I started, resting a hand on his arm, "I miss them too."

I watched as Sam's expression darkened, and rage emanated off of his heated body in waves. Despite this, my hand remained where it was. My heart ached as I remembered the old version of Sam, fresh out of college, his cheesy grin, and even the smirks he would give at the banter his brother and Castiel had participated in. He was family to me. Barely a trace of Sam could be seen in the man before me.

"I love you Sam," I whispered, ending the intense staring contest and wrapping my arms around his towering form.

He tensed under my touch, but made no move to pull away from it. Finally, he caved and wrapped an arm around my much smaller frame, encasing me in a warm hug. It is uncertain how long it was that we stood there for, but when I lifted my head light had begun to seep through the windows.

"It's not your fault," I murmured into his chest, taking a weak breath and tilting up to kiss him on the cheek before pulling away and heading to the kitchen. 

Once inside, I washed my hands and arm before bandaging the arm lightly. I proceeded to lazily grab a yogurt from the fridge and chop up what little fresh fruit I had left, which consisted of a small portion of blueberries, strawberries, and banana.

"I don't have much to eat, but I figure this will suit your tastes more so than waffles," I chuckled as he entered, knowing of the strange diet he tended to stick to. 

He sat at the table and took the food from my hands gratefully. I went to sit down just as a text alert emanated from the phone in my pocket. A soft sigh escaped my lips when I noticed the notification was from Sherlock, and he wanted me to join him and John at the railroad tracks where the body had been found. I gave Sam a small smile before pushing myself to my feet and heading to my room.

"I have to get dressed, if you could take Echo on a walk today that would be fantastic, but only if you are up to it. I have to work," I said over my shoulder before hurriedly getting dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple black tank top. 

I gave Echo a pat on the head and hugged Sam tightly before leaving the canine and the shaggy moose man to their own devices. I absentmindedly hailed a taxi and remained silent for the entire ride until I reached my destination, smiling softly as Sherlock and John came into view. I thanked the driver and paid him before walking over to the pair, receiving a glance from the detective and a hug from John. Sherlock's eyes lingered on the bandaged wound on my arm and then the small nick in my neck but said nothing.

"There isn't much blood. What now?" I mused.

"We've got a little bit of burglary to do," Sherlock replied, turning and stalking back towards the cab that had just begun to leave and climbing into it. 

John made me climb in next, effectively placing me in the center, and the tedious car ride began.