The three of you return a few hours later, after you paid the bill and the cab driver. You feel home and save when you reenter the heated living room and switch the lights on. John is right behind you, walks over to his chair and lets himself fall lazily in the comfy chair. Sherlock does the same, but in his chair, only a few feet away from John's, with much more energy. His eyes are glowing in a light blue/green, simply indescribable. You just stand there, leaning against the colored wallpaper, and look over to John. His eyes seem heavy and tend to fall down again and again, closing his eyes, but each time John opens them determined each time. You silently start giggling, which earns you a confused look from John, you just shake your head and put your hand unknowingly around your scarred left arm. John, in his gray jumper starts yawing and shifts around uncomfortably in his chair, desperately trying to find a more comfortable pose to sit. Sherlock, with his too tight blue shirt walks out of the room, heading into the bathroom, and leaves you and the doctor alone. John eventually stands up wishes you a good night and goes upstairs into his own room.
You remove from the wall and sit down at the dark leather couch, with your head leaned against the wall behind you, as Sherlock walks in.
"Oh, yeah, right. I suppose you... sleep on the sofa?" the tall man asked under yawning.
"Yeah, that's fine for me, thank you", you smile at him.
He looks really adorable with his now more blue-shimmering eyes and the little yawns.
"Night" you say and lay down on the couch with your back on the rough fabric and he leaves the room. Only to return little later and shows you the pack of blankets and the pillow he's currently holding. "Thank you" you repeat, as he throws them at you. He winks and leaves the room again.
As you switch of the lights you realize how dark the room really is, only lit by streetlamps which light shines through the thick fabric of the curtains.
Than you remember that at this time all the demons return in you head, they already start torturing you. Just by speaking out the truth. They don't want you here, no one those. They are just polite and don't wanna through a sad little girl out on the street, you really should cut yourself you stupid cunt.
You remove the warm blankets from your body, stand up and make your way to the bathroom. You rudely search through Sherlock and John's stuff until you find what you were looking for, a razor. You put the familiar object to your left arm, searching for a spot that hasn't already been used. When you finally found the place you want to make the cut, you put the razor on your inner arm and start pressing down on the blade and moving it in a straight line diagonal towards your body.
You feel the burning sensation and a silent hiss leaves your lips and you quickly put a hand in front your mouth to muffle the noises of pain and relieve. After you're done you clean your cuts put a bandage, you steal from John, around it and walk back to your current sleeping place. A light smile playing around your lips.