Okay, before the disclaimer and the story, you should be warned: I almost had another waterworks writing this one. So, make sure you have a box of tissues with you before you read this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kitty, Sherlock, Joan or the dude who took and raped Kitty (I always forget his name!). If I did own them, Kitty's offender would be six feet under, Andrew never would have died and he and Joan would be happily married with little kids running around. Sherlock and Kitty would be Uncle Sherlock ("I am not your brother, and therefore, not the childrens' uncle") and Aunty Kitty. Yes, I know, I spend waaaaaay to much time on fictional characters. Read on :)

Oh, and, uh, this chapter is a little bit repetitive, but I guess that's just the way it is in Kitty's head right now. *shrug*

Tyler kept trying to call Kitty. He felt really bad that she had left; he knew it was his fault. If only he hadn't run off like that. If only he had been more ready to talk through his feelings with Jemima. He never had been particularly good at talking through his feelings. If only…

There were so many 'if only' and 'what if I had' thoughts swimming through his mind at the moment.

He'd already tried Kitty fourteen times that day, and it wasn't even noon. Jemima hadn't said anything, but Tyler could tell she didn't approve of him beating up on himself like he was.

But he had to get her back. He didn't want Kitty, his Kitty to live on her own when she needed a friend the most. Tyler knew he didn't really have a right to call Kitty 'his', but he cared about her deeply, and that made him feel very protective of her.

Meanwhile, in 221B, Kitty heard her phone buzz, again, but ignored it when she saw that it was Tyler. She wasn't ready to talk to him again. Not after she had poured out her heart and soul to him, only to have him run away from it and her.

Kitty knew in her head that he had run for a good reason, she'd had plenty of time to think about that. She knew, in her head, that he'd had to clear his mind before he could help her further. In her head, it was a fact.

But she didn't feel it in her heart. In her heart, she felt nothing. It was like there was something there before, but now it was just gone. It was that feeling one gets after he or she has just had a good, long cry and then stops and feels nothing; it was the feeling of numbness in the heart.

The last time Kitty had felt this way was five years ago, after she had gotten away. She had purposely numbed her heart to block out the pain. She had worn her happy mask, and quickly learned to disguise any emotion that might trigger the memories as anger. These emotions consisted of any emotion that caused tears.

Kitty had trained herself so well to be like this, that she forgot how to feel. She lost all capability of feeling any emotion except anger and indifference. She never felt happy, or sad, or crushed or any of those emotions. Only anger and indifference, which quite often led to boredom.

But then, Kitty had met Sherlock. He was the best thing to ever happen to her. He was the one who had taught her how to feel again. Which was really impressive for a man who was quite void of emotion himself.

Kitty snickered to herself at what she had once thought of him. An emotionless man, married to his work. Kitty had created quite an image of him. But she quickly learned that she had been wrong. He was, indeed, quite capable, and even full of emotion. He was just better than most people at hiding it, and even sometimes convincing himself that he couldn't feel certain things.

Love, for example. Kitty moved on from snickering to a fond smile as she reflected on how she had been the one who had taught Sherlock how to love.

When Kitty had first met him, she had quickly picked up on the fact that Sherlock had convinced himself that he was not capable of loving. Affection, yes. He could definitely feel affection, but not love. But Kitty, somehow, in the just under a year she was with him, had managed to persuade him that he could feel love, and had even taught him how to love. And without ever saying a single word about love.

Kitty's smile dissipated as she remembered the other night, when Sherlock had said that he would always care about her, no matter what. That had been the hardest night of her life. Even harder than getting taken by that man. Kitty found it even harder to confront him than to be taken by him. It had almost driven her to become a murderer.

It had taken the world, her world to give her the strength to do the right thing. Then she had gotten the hell out of there.

Kitty almost dissolved into tears as her mind went to the airport. She didn't want to think about the airport, but she had no choice. She tried to stop herself from thinking about it, but she couldn't. She remembered the last words she had said to Sherlock.

"You know what I haven't said to anyone in a really long time? I love you. Isn't that the saddest thing?"

Kitty knew that she'd never find someone else she loved like Sherlock. That was enough to send her into another sobbing fit. Beside her, her phone buzzed again. But, as the fifteen times before, she ignored it again. She let it go to voicemail, and that's when she heard Tyler's voice.

"Kitty, I'm so sorry I ran away like that. I…I wasn't thinking. Please Kitty, I don't want you to be by yourself when you need a friend the most. Please Kitty, I want to be there for you, but I can't if you're not around. Please call me."

Beep

Kitty stopped crying and sniffed. Tyler sounded really, legitimately sorry. But Kitty didn't think she was ready to make that commitment of going back. She liked it here, in 221B. It's where she felt close to Sherlock. And whenever she was close to Sherlock, or was at least able to replicate the feeling, she felt safe. She didn't want to give that up.

Kitty almost laughed at how much her thoughts sounded like Sherlock, but couldn't quite bring a smile to her face. She really missed Sherlock. And Joan. But more Sherlock. He had been one of the few friends she had in this world, and he was the only one she had that she trusted fully.

So, Kitty couldn't help herself. She snatched up her phone and went to speed dial. Sherlock's number was still number one on the list. She couldn't stop herself, not that she really wanted to, she pressed his number and held the phone up to her ear. She waited. Then she heard the sound of someone answering the phone.

"Kitty?" she heard Sherlock ask. Kitty desperately wanted to say something, but she couldn't find any words to say. All she could do was sit there like a mute and listen to the voice on the other end.

"Kitty, talk to me," Sherlock instructed in his please-talk-to-me tone that Kitty had heard many times before when she had refused to tell Sherlock something. Her eyes very quickly moistened with tears, and she shook her head. She couldn't say anything. She lowered the phone slowly from her ear and heard Sherlock shout "Kitty!" before hanging up.

Then, Kitty did what she had been doing a lot for the past few days. She cried.

Thank you to the lovely "Guest of sorts" who left a perfectly delightful review (I have a sneaking suspicion I know who you are). You are the reason this chapter was written so quickly. :) Please do leave reviews, as I am new to this fanfiction game. And, who knows? After this story is done, I might elaborate on my headcanon mentioned in the disclaimer! :p