Everything is okay.
I put on cups of tea on the coffee table. Sherlock lies in bed and look at ceiling. There are a lot of white points. The ceiling is dark and these points looks like stars. This is the sky in night.
It's Watson's idea. When Sherlock was scared and frustrated, John painted stars on the ceiling. Now I have nice bedroom.
Sherlock ignores me. The galactic is more interested than me. I know it and it is okay.
"Your tea" I say.
Sherlock still ignores me.
I sight and give him a cup of tea.
I lie near him. He puts his head on my chest but still looks at stars. My fingers stroke his black curls. We lie in the silence. Silence is horrific. I know, Sherlock is afraid of silence too. When he is in the silence, he always plays violin.
I start singing his likely lullaby. Not loud but I know, he hear me. His eyes are closed and he smiles delicately.
Music is our refuge.