Warm orange light finds it way through the thick layers of curtains, hanging loosely in front the windows. As you open your eyes, you blink a few times until your eyes get used to the light in the wide room. Slowly you start remembering what had happened the night before. You are currently lying in an unfamiliar but still very comfy double bed. You cuddle yourself deeper into the white, soft bedsheets and just enjoy not getting screamed or yelled at. You barely hear a thing, here and then whispered words or birds chirping right outside the window to your left. You can hear the clenching of tea cups and muttered swears from downstairs.
You remove the blankets from your shoulder, so you can sit with your back against the bed, but with half of your body still under the covers. You start worrying what John and Sherlock might do to you when the realize you're awake. The first and probably most reasonable thought that comes in your mind is that they will definitely throw you out and never ever think about you again. You feel fear creeping into you, you don't want to go. You don't have anywhere else to go.
Tears fill your eyes, but they don't fall. With a slightly blurred sight you look around the room only to find lots of creepy stuff. On the nightstand next to the bed, you spent your night in, is a jar with an eye swimming in a white liquid. You aren't afraid that the actual owner of the room is a psychopath, you just smile at nothing in particular and feel like home.
A hesitant sound comes from the door. You sit up straight and wait until someone enters the room.
A bunch of dark curly hair peeks through the door. Beautiful colored eyes look at you with a shade of worry. "Morning", Sherlock greets politely and walks fully into the bedroom.
"Hey", you smile while saying it, proud to say at least something without starting to sweat and turning bright red.
"John said you should be alright by today... so, how do you feel?", he explained with a hesitant smile on his perfect formed lips.
"I'm perfectly fine. Thank you for, you know... everything!", you say truthfully. You frown and wonder how you were able to form a proper answer.
"What? Why are you looking so worried. Something wrong?" Sherlock steps closer as he asks, but you just shake your head. " No, it's just I usually get all... I mean, when I talk to people I can't make my head work properly, my brain literally turns into pudding. I don't understand why I talk so easily with you."