Sherlock woke up in his bed when light shone over the flat. He could hear John making noises in the kitchen and was partly angry on his former flat mate for waking him up and partly surprised that he slept here and not at his home where Mary and Amelie were.
As the events of the previous night came back to him, things started making sense.
It was not John in the kitchen. It was Sher. She came last night and asked to sleep here. When he asked her why, she didn't reply, only asked again if there is a bed for her, saying she didn't mind the couch. Sherlock ruled out the option and offered her John's empty room.
Sherlock got out of bed and dressed himself properly before heading to the kitchen. He found Sher making French toast and watched her as she made the table, unaware of his presence.
"You're smiling." She suddenly said. Perhaps she wasn't as unaware of his presence as Sherlock thought her to be.
"You look adorable in this outfit." She wore black loose jeans and a male t-shirt. And she did in fact looked adorable.
She looked down at her shirt and frowned. When the food was ready, she piled it in two plates and served it to the table. Sherlock broke the silence when they ate.
"Would you tell me now why you are here?" He asked.
"I didn't want to be at home." She said.
"What had happened?"
"Nothing." Sher replied. "Why something has to happen for me not to want to be at home?"
"Because in the past week all you talked about was how much you wanted to be home. He said. "And now you're here. So something must've happened."
Sher silenced.
"Let's start with something else." Sherlock tried. "How did you leave home without Mycroft's men seeing you? They're not here," He said, pointing at the window, "So Mycroft doesn't know you're not at home, yet."
"I left out the window." She finally said.
"The window?" Sherlock was amazed. "What made you think of that?" He asked, smiling.
Sher whispered. "I figured if he managed to get in without being seen, I'll manage to get out."
The smile slid off Sherlock's face. "He came in?" He asked.
"He said..." Sher took a deep breath. "He said that he owed me a punishment for what happened in the warehouse. And that I can't get away from it this time."
Sherlock tried to remember what had happened in the warehouse requiring punishment. The image of Moriarty on top of Sher, ripping her shirt apart, came to his mind.
"He…" He asked, suddenly afraid to continue the question. Sher nodded. "That Bastard." He mumbled. "I will kill him. I will find him and kill him."
"You can't." Sher said. She sounded defeated. "He's untouchable and you know that."
The sound of her voice brought Sherlock back to reality. She was hurt, he realized. What this girl went through, no one should ever deserve. She was kidnapped and humiliated, mentally tormented by someone she loved. She was heartbroken, and hurt. And that all without considering her childhood: constantly moving, never staying long, dragged along with her addict mother rather than having a home. The only person keeping her calm is Mycroft, whom she couldn't even face, because he lied to her about the one thing she ever wanted to know. Losing her mother to illness, losing herself in her own cancer. Who this girl once was? He wondered. Who might she be had Mycroft told her the truth about her father? Would she be better? Or would life with him only wrecked her even more? He reached out and touched his daughter's hand. She looked exhausted.
"Did you sleep last night?" He asked.
Sher nodded.
"If you're going to lie, you should do it more convincingly." Sherlock said and Sher smiled, half amused. "I can't sleep." She admitted. "I'm too afraid."
"Nightmares?"
She shook her head. "I never get close enough for those." She said. "I'm afraid to close my eyes. Afraid of what I'll see when I open them up."
"Do you want me to give you pills?" Sherlock asked. "It will help you sleep. And I promise the only thing you'll see when you open up your eyes is me." As she nodded, he went to the closet where he kept his pills and pulled out the box where the sleeping pills were. He wondered whether he should take two, before deciding that if one won't do the job, no amount will.
Sher took the pills in the kitchen before heading to the bedroom that was now her own. She mumbled something to Sherlock about how she can get there alone before she stumbled and would fell unless he grabbed her arm and held her. By the time they reached her bed, she was half asleep. Sherlock tucked her in and kissed her forehead very softly before going down the stairs and calling his brother.
No matter what were her feelings towards him as the moment, Sher needed Mycroft to help her get through this. And before he went mad finding out Sher's empty flat, Mycroft had to know where she was, and that she was safe.
Scarcely ten minutes after had they spoken over the phone, had Mycroft arrived to 221b. He burst into the room without knocking and only stopped when Sherlock rose for him.
"Relax." The younger brother told his elder. "You're playing right to his hands, this is what he wants and you're giving it to him."
"I don't care what he wants, I don't care if I'm giving it to him. I will find him and kill him." Mycroft said. "I will kill him for what he did to her." His voice cracked and he looked away from Sherlock. "I just can't do it anymore." He said. "She can't open up to me enough to tell me this herself. I have to hear it from you. And Moriarty, that thing he's doing to her. He broke her, Sherlock. He broke her heart and she can't get herself over it. And there's nothing I can do about it."
As much as he would deny it if he was ever asked, Sherlock did care about his brother. He knew how hard out must be for him, though not showing it, to see the pain this child is in and not being able to help. But Mycroft put on his mask of emotionlessness and simply stared at the wall.
Finally, Sherlock spoke.
"Would you like to go and see her?"
Mycroft nodded silently and followed his brother up the stairs.