Hello everyone. This is a fanfic I wrote in Italian. I have little time to translate it so I'm forced to use the google translator, so forgive any mistakes. I hope you like it. A kiss, Tinkerbell
I wake up.
The sound of rain on the window I was miraculously brought back to reality.
I cannot believe it. It happened again.
I fell asleep last night during one of those movies that are so well loved John. He woke me up and helped me to reach the bed, where I again plunged into the arms of Morpheus. God damn sleep! Why do not you find another hobby? What do I know? Cards? Chess? Backgammon? Everything would be fine. Enough that I'd stop pestering me. I do not need to sleep. Do not want to sleep.
Why? Sleep for the first thing is a waste of time. Some may say it takes the body to recharge. This will allow for normal people! Someone must have reversed some wires when I created it for me just the opposite happens.
While others are recharged by eating, resting or even (horrors!) sleeping, I drain. Really! There is nothing more damaging for me idleness. My brain, the most important part of me, the only one I can rely on, needs work. Jobs. Jobs. For months we have not got a decent job in his hands.
Kids run away from home, betrayed wives from husbands who have discovered too late to love their best friend, insurance fraud. Banal, boring.
There is nothing out there that can distract me from my nightmares. No, I stand corrected. In my nightmare. Just one. It is sufficient to destabilize me.
I do not remember from when I do. Maybe forever. Cycle is back to torment me. So, periodically, I relapsed into my old habit. It was not always so. I remember when I was a child my mother was. She came into my room and consoled me.
Then, when I grew up, I was not able to appeal to her to calm my nights. I had to make do, and she came. My damnation.
Cocaine.
I went down hard immediately. As soon as the nightmare returned to be alive, I went to my old acquaintance that he owed me a favor and more than I supply drug. No one could suspect anything at home.
Then Mycroft noticed it. I watched. My dear brother! Always so worried about me! I kept an eye! I had brought to the clinic for help in quitting. For a time he had worked. Then we had done it again.
Finally, after my second visit to that damned psychologist, I found something better than cocaine: the murders.
Do not misunderstand. I am not distracted by killing people, mind you! Discover the killers of the drug was better than pure. Reasoning, finding clues, pigeonhole people by just looking. That's what made me feel good. I need to keep the brain engaged in something other than that damn dream. I pursued. That ... and more.
I just want to forget. There are many things you do not want in my mind, now. Because if I did it with the solar system cannot succeed with this? I mean, is information. Trivial memories in the brain. I cannot just wipe them out?
Instead here he is! The enemy of my time! That bloody nightmare does not want to learn to leave me alone! And with that nightmare, memories resurface I thought I had been buried. Painful memories.
I find myself in the dream baby. I'm sleeping in a crib. The soft walls, stuffed with cotton, surrounding me. To cover up, a delicate cotton fitted sheet and a blanket made by her grandmother. Above me a carousel spins with birds and a classical piano. I laugh, I like that music. Soon the music is going to make me fall asleep, when suddenly I hear the screams.
There are screams of a man and a woman. The man was furious, swearing, rants, accusations. She cries and asks forgiveness. They feel the blows and the woman cries louder. Then a door slams. There, I wake up covered in sweat.
I do not know why but this dream makes me terrible anxiety. I do not know where it came from. I do not know if it's my memory or whether it has a symbolic value. I tried to talk with a psychologist, but has not been a great help.
'You have to deal with it' I said, 'Try to handle it. Try to get up from the cradle to go and see who is quarreling. It's your dream, you can do. It's easy! '
Easy foot! Perhaps it could be easy for her! For me, the only desire was not out of the cradle but that dream! I tried to get rid of it anyway. I've succeeded. How wrong I was!
Is returned. Now have three nights that I wake up like that. John seems to have noticed something. He, too, as I observed Mycroft. Instead of nagging my brother, however, knows her place. Do not torment me. Who wait. He knows that, if I want, tell her my feeling.
Meanwhile, however, a true ingrate, I'm treating her like a rag feet. Why I do this? He bears, but I think it will last long. Two nights ago he went to sleep with Sarah. Again. Now spends more time at home with that woman in Baker Street. I understand it, basically. I'd run in his place.
I have become unbearable. My mood swings are becoming more evident. It is the effect of cocaine. My face like a beaten dog, the next morning, he must have softened because he suggested to look a movie together. I accepted. I did not want contrariarlo again. I did not want him to go away, leaving me alone with my monsters. And yet ... even with his presence here showed up. Perhaps because of this. With John at my side I felt safer, more relaxed ... and damn those memories have the opportunity to strike more violently than usual.
I get up, take a shower. Maybe flowing water can carry away the shadows of the night, like a river that you clean the dead leaves. Useless.
Itches shoulder. Support a hand to the skin to take away the itch and feel. A small imperfection. I look and see. A scar. Since I have it? I do not remember. It will be wise to seek their origin in my memory? Too late. Before she can finish this thought to make the memory makes its way powerfully into my mind.
Resent that pain again. The pain of ceramic that breaks against my skin. But the greater the pain of my heart. That heart I thought I had forever sealed in an airtight chamber. Slide the bottom of the shower while the water keeps dropping on him.
What's happening to me? What is so terrible that these emotions are slowly taking possession of my being? I do not want! I do not want! I do not want but I cannot drive them away. The more I try most of these returned to me, wounding me. As the blades sharp. Follow me in every hiding place, my hound.
"Sherlock?"
I hear John's voice from the kitchen. He calls me. He's leaving to go to work.
"I'm leaving. On the way home I stop at the supermarket. Do you need anything? "
I do not answer. He resigned, leaving the room slamming a little 'door. He is angry again. Tonight I will sleep again from Sarah, I feel. I'll try to forgive me, perhaps. Maybe I could remove those toes rotting in the fridge. They should be ready for the tests that I plan and if in a couple of hours I can take them out John will end up with something foul in less than between milk and jam.
I leave the shower. I dry and dress. I buttoned my shirt and I put my beautiful blue robe. How convenient! Finally, a bit 'of peace. I go into the living room and I enjoy the silence. No. Too much silence. My mind test, bastard, brought me back to those memories.
I take my violin and try to chase them away. Sound of lively music. I do not feel depressed. I move around the room, dancing. Every time I open my eyes to avoid tripping over something and that's where I realize that my phone is ringing.
Still holding the violin in his hand, resting on the bow seat and grabbed the phone. It is Lestrade.
"Sherlock Hello" I said "Am I disturbing you?"
"No, I figured," I say in response. Another case! Please! A murder case maybe! Please! Something worthy of my attention!
"There was a nasty murder tonight. A man was found stabbed in an old abandoned factory. Can I send a car to get you? "
"Sure, sure," I reply, trying to repress happiness.
A murder! Well! A little 'food for my mind! I unravel with a single gesture on his robe and in a few minutes I'm ready to get on the machine that will take me to the scene of the crime. I'm sorry that there is John with me, though. Patience. The facts tell tonight.