Chapter 6: Now For the Truth~
"YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT DONOVAN WOMAN ,MYCROFT!" Mrs. Holmes howled on her way out the door.
It was morning, the morning of the day that Sherlock's parents were going to leave. Mrs. Holmes had been allowed to see Sherlock before she left. He had told her in his own words what had happened.
Had taken both of her hands in his long slender ones.
"Mum?"
"Yes, dear?"
"My job isn't safe, you know that..."
"Yes, I do!"
"Mum...when I was gone... I had some serious...trouble. And it will take me a very long time mentally to recover from it."
"Trouble, what sort of trouble?"
"I was...tortured, mother."
"What?"
The room had grown shockingly quiet.
Sherlock didn't show his mother his wounds. He just nodded softly, ever so softly, not wanting to have the repeat reaction of the horrified look on his father's face when he'd unbuttoned his shirt for him.
He didn't want the repeat look of smothering, sickening horror on Mycroft's face.
He really didn't want to see that renewed look of horror, and understanding only a doctor can have on John's face.
And he had just noticed that Mrs. Hudson had come into the room.
"Oh God...my boy, my sweet little boy!" his mother howled.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, as his mother went off on a tangent, demanding for details, literally "flying off the handle" feeling terrible when she smashed a mug all over the floor.
Mrs. Hudson bent to clean it up, as she apologized wildly, and taking a measured breath, John began.
"Sherlock...has developed a serious case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." he said, simply, and both the old women looked up, faces perplexed.
"You,...you know what that is, right?"
"You have it too, John. Not so bad now, as before. But it's where your nightmares came from?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Of course, I know what it is!" Mrs. Holmes gasped,and cut Sherlock an angsty look. He smiled calmly at her,and said, deep voice almost too low to be distinguished from the white noise in the room:
"I had elected not to tell you...Mycroft ,for once, had agreed. But Dad and John thought you needed to know..."
"NOT TELL YOUR MOTHER?!" she howled.
"For the reason... that loud and flamboyant shows of emotion can only complicate the disorder..."Mycroft said ,measuredly.
"Oh...dear Lord...am I making it worse, dear?"
Sherlock looked too tired to react in any way, and just shook his head.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head, clasping her hands. "If you need anything, anything at all! I won't mind helping...not a bit..."
Sherlock smiled, "I could always use your tea?"
She laughed, and went to make him some.
"Thank you!" he called, to her surprise.
He was most certainly different now. Still Sherlock...only different. It wasn't entirely a bad thing.
"You rest!" his mother cried. "And I'll be back within a fortnight to check up on you!-Mycroft, a word on our way to the door!"
She grabbed her older son by his arm, and marched him with her, demanding to know EVERYTHING.
His father rolled his eyes, "See...not so hard?"
"Have a...tolerable stay in Brighton."
"Thank you, son. Hope to see you soon. Get better ,alright?"
"I live with a doctor!"
John smiled, as Mr. Holmes left the room, slowly and dutifully following in his wife's footsteps as he heard her shouting about vengeance upon Sergeant Donovan for setting Sherlock off like that.
John smiled awkwardly,"You didn't show them off to her..."
"Oh, I'm not overly fond of showing them off to anyone( I know, not like me...) They will leave plenty enough scars..."
He sighed, and closed his eyes. John cleared his throat.
"I need to have a look at them."
"Please, John, I just endured a rigorous round of examinations at St. James..."
"Yeah, well I need to look."
Sherlock got suddenly defensive. "I'd prefer that you not..."
John frowned. "You've got to let me..."
"John..."
"Don't argue."
"John, no, really, please!"
Sherlock only said please when he was very, very desperate.
John shook his head. "No...Sorry...I'm afraid you're a little too weak and tired to resist me either...doesn't seem fair, does it?"
Sherlock was trying overly hard to keep his face straight.
John opened his shirt, and froze...
"There...there weren't...as many before..."he whispered, looking into Sherlock's eyes.
Trying very hard to conceal his angst, Sherlock swallowed.
"Well, maybe you just don't know the full extent of them yet..."
Mycroft came back in the room just then...
"Right..."John said, looking up at Mycroft.
They exchanged a glance and Sherlock understood without having to hear them speak.
They were going to go talk privately about what to do about him.
He held his breath, willing the bleeding to stop ,so John wouldn't catch on to what was really going on.