Sherlock rarely slept, he couldn't understand why anyone would like the idea of lying unconscious, unprotected, and unaware of the world spinning around him for countless hours, dead to the world. He usually fought for consciousness, though he knew it was useless, sleep was inevitable. Tonight, though, was different. Tonight would mean something.
He entered his childhood room at his mother's house where he had been staying for the Christmas holidays. Tomorrow he would return to London, perhaps he would have a new mystery to solve. He climbs into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. Sherlock used the covers to hide the smile spread across his lips; he wouldn't even let himself know he was excited, and happy to finally see the person he would share the rest of his life with.
Of course, he would have an advantage when it came to finding his soulmate Sherlock never forget anything he didn't want to.
As he felt himself drifting off, the door opened with a small click. Sherlock didn't bother opening his eyes, he could already tell from the gentle footsteps and soft scent of vanilla that his mother was there. She placed a delicate hand on his forehead, whispering "good luck", then she began humming a quite lullaby. Sherlock relaxed and finally let sleep take him.
Sherlock awoke blinking, the sun streamed into his window. He yawned... He felt like he had slept for days. He looked over at his clock: 12.52. He had never slept this late before, why hadn't anyone woken him? He caught sight of the date: 1/1/1998.
His breathe caught in his throat, last night should have been his processing night... But he had seen nothing, just darkness, a blank canvas... How could that be? Sherlock didn't have any answer and this frustrated him greatly. He reached for his cigarettes on his bedside table that mummy dearest hated with fumbling fingers. He would usually smoke outdoors, but this was a special occasion. Sherlock's brain needed fuel unlike ordinary people, he worked best off the tar that filled his lungs. He inhaled, deeply sighing as the rich scent filled the room and the nicotine hit his brain powering it into process.
He stopped, realizing the only conclusion of all the facts; it was as if an icy hand had gripped his heart, tearing it from his body. "Of course" he muttered bitterly...
How could he have believed the lies? He grimaced at his own stupidity.
He didn't have a match.
He ran a hand through is hair in defeat.
He felt all the hope and longing that had built up inside him melt away. Why did he even care so much? He knew he was different from everyone else. He didn't need anyone else; alone he was safe and alone was what protected him. He vowed never to let anyone in, he would focus completely on his work, or without it his brain would rot.
How was he fooled with the ludicrous idea?
How could he ever think anyone could ever love him?