Usual disclaimers etc. This was originally going to be the beginning of a chapter but by the time I got to page 3 I though it best to make it a chapter by itself!

Enjoy!


The sharp tone of the ringing phone cut through the dark stillness of the night. Mira woke and reached over to her bedside table to cease the noise.

'Pronto.'

'Mira? Is that you, dear?'

'Ah, Mrs Hudson, si, 'ow arre you?'

'I'm sorry to wake you but no one else is picking up their phone and I don't know what to do…'

'What to do about what?'

Mira's question was almost cut off by the sound of gunfire in the background. The noise shocked Mira out of her sleepy state, sitting up on the edge of her bed.

'Mrs Hudson, are you okay?'

'Oh, I'm fine, dear, but I'm worried about him.'

Him. Him. Him. Ah.

'What's going on?'

'I don't know but he's been storming around the flat, shooting the walls. Normally, it only lasts for an hour or so but this has been going on too long.'

'Have you managed to talk to him?'

'I tried to go in but he was too busy shouting and I don't think he could hear me. I've tried everyone.'

'Ok, ok. I'll be over as soon as possible. Don't go up and keep safe, okay?'

'Yes, yes, dear.'

Mira vaguely heard Mrs Hudson's comment of 'What will the neighbours think?' before she put the phone down, checked her watch and moaned, then rummaged around her dark room to find some jogging bottoms and something warm to put on.


After a short taxi ride and a knock on the door, she was standing on the ground floor of 221B with Mrs Hudson in her dressing gown. Both peered up the stairs to the flat above.

'He can't be bored, cases have been flooding in…'

'I don't know. He's normally awake at this time anyway but nothing like this.'

Loud footsteps stormed around above their heads. Anyone else would've thought there was a circus practicing in the middle of the night.

'There's always a chance that he's…'

Mira drew her attention away from the ceiling and back to the landlady, 'What?'

Mrs Hudson leaned into Mira, despite there being no one else but them in the nearby vicinity.

'Relapsed.'

Mira frowned. 'Didn't John take all that away from him? And anyway he's smart enough to know he has people that care about him to not try that again.'

Mrs Hudson just shrugged. Mira sighed.

'Right, I'm going up.'

'Be careful!'


Mira gently pushed open the door to the flat, thankful that it wasn't locked.

Inside she found Sherlock slumped on the sofa wearing pyjama bottoms, his shirt from the day, buttons undone and his blue dressing gown. Part of Mira was thankful he wasn't only wearing a sheet - another one of John's stories he found great joy in telling Mira about.

He had his hand up to his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as if in pain, yet his expression was blank.

'Sherlock?'

He was mumbling something to himself, every so often his brow creased but quickly straightened again.

'Sherlock,' Mira tried again slightly louder this time.

The man in question sprang up from his seat and stood a few feet in front of her, a slightly confused and bewildered expression on his face. When he recognised Mira a moment later his expression dropped, looking somehow younger.

'What time is it?'

'About 3am.'

Sherlock nodded and turned, standing on the table that separated him from where he wanted to be.

'Are you okay, Sherlock?'

'I'm perfectly fiiiine.'

The way he said 'fine' made Mira think that he was decidedly not 'fine'.

'Look at me.'

Sherlock ignored her.

She wrapped her arms around her striped fluffy jumper and tried again, moving into his line of vision.

'Hey, look at me.'

Sherlock met her gaze and crouched down on the coffee table in front of her.

'Have you taken anything?'

'Noooo…'

'Sherlock, if you're lying to me I will find out.'

His expression stayed rigid, un-telling.

'And I'll call Molly.'

At that threat, Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, the consequences sinking in. His head dropped to his chest.

'I haven't, I swear,' came a quiet answer.

'Then what the hell is going on?'

Sherlock didn't look at her, didn't move.

'Come sit down with me.'

They both moved from the table to sit down on the sofa, Sherlock sitting sideways, laying his long legs across Mira's lap. Mira just sighed and put her hands on his calves. He lolled his head on the back cushions, black hair falling into his eyes.

'Does this have something to do with the mumbling?'

Sherlock nodded once, silently.

'It's been worse since New Year.'

Mira wasn't the only one who noticed the frequency of times Sherlock had been talking to himself whilst in company. Over the course of his latest case - a biologist who took great joy in dissecting her ex-boyfriends - Sherlock had regularly mumbled or suddenly shouted out phrases in the middle of investigating, mostly some form of 'Shut up!' or just moments when he would noticeably shrug or try to shake something off. John had been keeping a eye on him and, at one point where Sherlock had been so self-involved with his thoughts that he sat down and didn't move for a few hours, ignoring the world, his doctor had managed to do a quick check to see if there was anything the matter. There didn't seem to be anything serious going on.

She looked at Sherlock, his eyes looking at nothing in particular.

'When did it begin? Can you remember?'

She saw his eyes darken slightly, not out of anger but out of fear. This small change must have broken through a memory as he jumped up of the sofa, causing Mira to lean back when his legs narrowly missed hitting her nose. He stood upon the coffee table and began a tirade about his current case. Mira couldn't understand half of what he was saying; she was not entirely sure all of it was English.

Deciding enough was enough - he'd already gotten her out of bed and across London in the early hours of the morning when she had to go to gallery meetings the same day - Mira pushed herself up from her comfortable position and onto the table next to Sherlock. She reached to hold his arms and manoeuvre him off the table just as he turned to face her, his hand reaching into his dressing gown pocket. Said hand was forced to stay in his pocket by Mira's actions. The pocket which he had been preparing to use to send another hole through the wall, so whilst his reactions were quick enough to follow through with the motion, they were not fast enough to stop it.


A shot rang out through the flat, followed by a scream and a thud to the floor. Mrs Hudson ran to the bottom of the staircase and waited for some form of signal. When nothing came after a few seconds she shouted.

'Mira, Sherlock?! Is everything alright?'

There were a couple of muffled noises above her head before a voice broke through.

'We're alright, Mrs Hudson! It's alright, sorry.'


Mira sighed. After the bullet had put a hole through Sherlock's dressing gown and embedded itself in the base of the sofa, the shock knocking Mira off the table and making her land with a thud on the floor, time had stood still for a moment.

Mira sat on the floor, shaking slightly as Sherlock stood motionless on the table, his hand still clutching the gun in his pocket. There was a look of wide-eyed horror on his face as he stared at Mira.

In one swift move he was down off the table, gun in his hand emptied of the remaining bullets. Quickly, methodically, the gun was put away in a drawer in the desk at one side of the room, the bullets in a small tin box at the opposite end. He then walked over to Mira, who had not moved but simply watched him, and held out his hands to help pull her up. His grip when she was standing was unusually tight.

'Are you ok?' He asked in a small, breathless voice He dropped one hand but remained clutching the other.

'I'm okay.' She forced her voice to stay strong but it still came out less confident than she would've liked.

He still looked over her with large, shockingly blue eyes.

'No harm done.'

Mira smiled slightly, Sherlock's expression saddening at thoughts of the harm that he could've done.

'Stay.'

It wasn't a question but the request wasn't forceful either.

'Okay. I'll take the bed upstairs.'

Sherlock's eyes darted quickly from Mira to the surrounding room.

'Sherlock?'

Without a word, he led her across the room, through the hallway to his bedroom. He continued through the door and only then did he let go of her hand. They moved in silence as Sherlock walked over the other side of the bed and removed his dressing gown and shirt, replacing it with a plan navy t-shirt whilst Mira observed him for a second before taking off her jumper and shoes and socks. He pulled back the bedcovers and slid in, Mira doing the same on the other side. She took in his scent from the pillows and the softness of the duvet. Her tiredness hit her as soon as her head touched the pillow.

'Goodnight, Sherlock.'

He watched her body relax as it slipped into sleep. She breathed slowly, her face content.

'Goodnight, Mira.'


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