First of all, nothing Sherlock belongs to me, it belongs to Sir A.C. Doyle, Gatiss and Moffat.
I started discovering some writing prompts on Pinterest lately so decided to take a few of them on since they wouldn't leave my brain alone. And since I have the short little one-shots inspired by these prompts, I decided to put them up here for others to enjoy. And I certainly hope that you do!
This prompt was: Mental illnesses are beings that attach onto humans, causing them the illness. You are one of these beings in a hospital, looking for a baby to attach to.
And of course my go-to theme was Sherlock, so that is what this is. :)
Reviews/comments very welcome!
Schizophrenia, Multiple Personality Disorder, ADD, ADHD, there are a multitude of names for us. The humans have no idea we are not just a chemical imbalance. We are not linked to genetics. We are small in number, but we are like any other sentient organism. There are things we need to survive, and the biggest thing is shelter and food. Both of which we find inside the human mind. Most of us try to choose their homes when a human is just a child, let them get used to us, give them a chance to deal with us. That is when we are called more mild things like ADD or ADHD. However, if our host dies and we must move on, sometimes we must settle for someone older. That is when more of the troubles start. I have not been around very long, not long enough to truly know what is best to look for in a host. The unfortunate truth is, I need one. By the end of the day, or I will starve. Invisible to the nurses wandering the ward, I drift through the rows and rows of babies that mostly sit sleeping peacefully in their cribs. It seems to be late at night if I judge correctly. Stopping by one of the little cribs, I look down at a silent baby, blue-green eyes wide open and staring up at everything, a shock of black hair already covering what should be a bald head. The blue blanket says the child is a boy. I look down at the name on the crib and then look back at the baby, who – for just a moment – looks back at me.
"You'll be strong of mind, you will be able to handle my presence. I'm sorry for any damage I might cause to you along the way, I only hope you will adjust to me in a way where you can still help society." I speak quietly to the baby, positive no one can hear me. Not even the child. Hovering just above the baby's head, I look around to make sure that none other of my kind are around, before I settle myself into the warm cocoon of the child's mind, arranging myself in what I hope will be the least detrimental way possible.
"You and me, young one, we will be together until you die. My little Sherlock." I murmur quietly in the child's mind. My intrusion is not unnoticed by the child however, as he begins to cry and squirm around in his bed. I was warned by the others about this part. It may be painful to the child until it grows accustomed to me, but they should soon grow accustomed to my presence. Children are the best because of that. They are such adaptable creatures,
The nurse who was making her rounds returns and picks up little Sherlock, cradling him gently and rocking him a little. "Shush now, you're safe.. you'll wake up the others." She coos to him, all the while remaining oblivious to the real reason for his distress. Still, it calms him down and soon he drifts off to sleep, dreaming things not even I can understand.
It's clear to me he's already clever, however. He is starting to piece things together about the nurse, about the world around him. His silence and observation of the outside world was a sign of this. Yes, he will be very clever indeed, and I suddenly find myself looking forward to what I will see through his eyes, as I, too, drift into the oblivion of sleep.
Years later my effect starts to be seen. Sherlock is 6 now, just starting to attend school with other kids. He is very intelligent, he can see things and put together clues about people, to learn the truth about them. Some of the things he sees he doesn't understand and neither do I. He has no reference point for them, but other things he sees makes people angry at them because he doesn't understand why he shouldn't tell people. The kids at the school are cruel to him and he doesn't understand why.
He doesn't understand the emotions of the other kids, what he says that makes them hate him so much. Sherlock has an older brother named Mycroft who is similar, I wonder if it is another of my kind who has been with him but we cannot sense eachother once we have taken a host, not without leaving them which causes irreparable damage the majority of the time. I won't risk that for Sherlock, I've grown to care for him too much. Mycroft tries to help Sherlock understand. Other people are idiots, he says, and caring is not an advantage. I don't agree, but there is nothing I can do about it. The young boy starts to shut himself off from emotion, honing his other skills with the assistance of his brother. His mind works so fast and in such unusual ways. I find it hard to keep up sometimes, but also I am fascinated by it, and I understand how rare this is among humans.
We are taught about the human world before we are required to go out into it. There are not many of us, and young ones like myself are almost as rare as those teachers who can exist outside of humans. There are only three of those, who teach and guide the young ones and those who have been expelled or have lost their human hosts. Some get quite attached to them, as I am attached to my Sherlock, and so when they outlive their chosen hosts it can be a traumatic experience to leave them. Some choose not to, and die with their companions. Some move on to family members, which is why human scientists think certain 'mental illnesses' are hereditary.
There is little I can do to help Sherlock when one of the bullies gets physical. I have shelter and sustenance provided by his mind but very little influence over his thoughts. A nudge here, a tap there which can be ignored or heeded depending on the situation and the particular thing we are attempting to influence. I sit and watch his development with concern, trying to nudge him in the direction of understanding people even if he doesn't particularly like them. With his track record from dealing with those at school, and parents who are not particularly affectionate, it's no wonder that he dislikes people as a whole.
When he becomes a teen, I notice Sherlock starting to become condescending toward others, thinking he is superior because of his intelligence. It cannot be denied that he is smarter than pretty much everyone he meets, even his teachers. But he starts to refer to people generally as 'idiots' or 'morons'. I try to nudge him away from those behaviors and I think I am somewhat successful but it's hard to tell. There is part of him, part of his heart, which yearns for someone to understand him, for someone to share in his fascinations – however morbid they might be – or at the very least understand them. I try and help him protect that part of himself, but there is very little I can do. It makes me a little sad to see him become this way and I wonder if he will continue to be like this as an adult.
There is a boy who befriends him, finally. But Sherlock is in college now. He seems genuinely interested, but I am suspicious. No one has been this interested since a young girl half a dozen years before. The girl was driven off by the ridicule of her friends and Sherlock's own personality. This boy is different. He seems to be attracted to Sherlock, even find his deductions and straight forward way of talking fascinating. In some ways Sherlock is very naive. There are things, societal things, which he truly does not understand. Does not wish to understand. And others he has chosen to forget. He is charmed by this man who is a year older than him and lives in his dorm. For the first time he starts to feel romantic feelings. Sebastian is the other boy's name.
At first it was all fun and games. Sherlock would help Seb out with homework and things like that. But then Seb fell into the wrong crowd. Is that the proper thing to say? Perhaps a better description would be that he was lured into the darker side of life. And being with Sherlock as he was, he exposed him to something my young man had never experienced before. Drugs. First it was just once in a while, nothing Sherlock couldn't handle and put aside whenever he wanted. But then I recognized the touch of another of my kind. Some of us are more malevolent than others and as I said, we all have different effects. There is a faction of my kind which can live briefly in certain areas of the mind, but they need a gateway. This gateway is provided by drugs and they are called Addiction by the humans. Fighting demons you cannot see makes it harder for the humans to expel Addiction. But not all of the humans have the assistance of another creature such as myself. Still, I am inexperienced and, having never run into someone from this faction before, unsure of what to do. I cannot let Sherlock die however, so I fight for him the best I can.
Eventually I am able to get rid of the other creature. The only problem is, Sherlock is now in a facility aimed to help him recover from his addiction. For now the gateway is closed, but Addiction has left its taint, left the nagging desire for another taste in Sherlock's mind. I make a nudge. Work, deductions, those will save the young man from further exposure and ruin. He takes to it rather well, starts making a living with it after he gets out of the facility his brother put him in. Assisting the police when he is called upon, after making friends with a Detective Lestrade. I say friends, but that is a loose term which I am not sure should be applied to my host and this Detective.
Sherlock has self-diagnosed years ago, and now flaunts what doctors and books told him he has. He is a High Functioning Sociopath. A very intelligent Sociopath in other words. Sociopath. That is what I am now, and what I will be called until my host can no longer house me. Despite the disastrous relationship in college which ended in ruin, Sherlock still has a part of his heart and mind locked away, yearning for companionship, for someone to truly understand.
Someone new has come into Sherlock's life. An older man with a limp. John Watson, former Army doctor. He is not intimidated by Sherlock and genuinely finds his deductions fascinating. This s good news for us. He is someone who stays with Sherlock, who can deal with all his antics. I try to shrink down more, to allow Sherlock more room to appreciate what he has in John Watson.
The companionship the doctor provides soothes some of the yearning in Sherlock's heart. He relies on the other man more and more to keep him from going back to drugs, to keep him on the right path. It is a good thing and I approve. I try too help him understand how good Watson is for him.
The doctor goes on dates. Lots of dates. Sherlock experiences jealousy for the first time, perhaps. IN his own way he tries to sabotage some of the relationships. He wants Watson all to himself. The detective – as he calls himself now, a consulting detective – has always been a selfish human in some regards. And when it comes to John's attentions it is definitely the case.
When another woman – The Woman – comes into Sherlock's life, there is more jealousy, but this time it is from Watson's side. Sherlock is oblivious to her charms from an emotional standpoint, though from a purely mental stand he does understand and recognize what she is attempting to do. She causes trouble for both of them, but Sherlock is very clever and he fixes it, even if it does take him a little longer than normal. He just needed the right stimuli and a little nudge from me.
That night at the flat, there is an encounter, a fight, and a kiss. The tension and jealousy from the last few days of dealing with The Woman has come to a head. Startling discoveries are made, though more startling for the doctor than for Sherlock. The detective just has no idea how to deal with the situation, Relationships are not really his thing, but it seems he is willing to try for his doctor. I am happy. This is what I was hoping for for my host. Someone to tolerate, understand, care for, and perhaps even love him. This is everything that I could have wanted and more. I settle down into a dark corner and try to stay out of the way, happily observing the two in their every day lives, and try to help Sherlock once in a while not to completely screw it up.
When the time comes, when they have had many years together and it is time for my host to pass on to the next world, or whatever comes next for humans, I decide to let myself fade away with him. With a life as exciting as his and no children to speak of, there is little else for me to live for in this world. I have lived a fulfilling life, and I have no wish to damage another human's mind with my presence. I know, however, the names Sherlock Holmes and his companion Doctor John Watson will never be forgotten. A brilliant, extraordinary man like him cannot be forgotten.
