Shelter
"Sherlock for god's sake! You need to stop doing this its not-"
"Not what john, go on say it, normal?"
"I was going to say polite..."
"Oh, really? Well, that's what people usually say, I guess you're different"
"Yes Sherlock, I am, I don't pick on you, like they do, I put up with you and your habits, habits which they label you a freak for, I understand you more than they do, and do you know why Sherlock? Because I am your friend"
"AW, that's all very touching John but apparently I don't have FRIENDS, remember?"
"WILL YOU GUYS JUST KISS AND MAKE UP!" lestrade yelled
"SHUT. UP. LESTRADE"! Sherlock shouted
Lestrade put his hands up in surrender, Sherlock and john were having a raging argument, in the middle of lestrade's office; lestrade was sat at his desk leaning out of the way rubbing his temples with Sherlock at one end of it, shouting at John and John at the other end shouting at Sherlock.
What made it worse was that most of Scotland Yard had turned up to look through the glass at the angry sociopath. John was trying to make Sherlock feel better because Anderson had called Sherlock a psychopath again and Sherlock had punched him in the face.
"WELL! If you WANT to listen to them Sherlock then I consider you my friend, and if you don't consider me as yours then I guess that settles it"
"Settles what?"
"That you don't have friends"
Silence, john regretted saying it as soon as he had said it, silence fell and everyone froze, lestrade opened his mouth to speak but shut it again when he saw Sherlock's face.
He was on the edge, his face was pale with anger and his blue eyes to flicker like fiery ice.
"Sherlock, I didn't mean-"
"DON'T! Just, please…. Just don't…"
He needed to get out of here, his head was spinning, it was happening again. He pushed the images from last time out of his head and spun around, moving towards the door crammed with people who jumped out the way. Sally Donovan was there, she slowly stepped out the way, meeting his eyes as he walked past.
"Freak"
He stopped and turned towards her, someone gasped and others moved back again, he met her eyes. And he snapped. He stormed out of the office, striding down the hallway and out of sight; they all heard the door slam.
She regretted it; she saw his eyes and regretted it. Pain was in those eyes, defeat, emptiness, they were the eyes of a broken defeated man. Not the powerful, smug, somewhat cheerful, insulting, bright, blue eyes of the Sherlock she was used to.
She had crushed the great man that Sherlock was, with one word:
Freak…
Inspired by the song by 'birdy': shelter, please listen to it while reading the second chapter. It gives me chills…
-you tube
-'birdy, shelter'