Chapter 7

"It's here, here in this broken hour, that the broken in me sings out to be heard.

The fractured and the severed, the sharp edged and the unglueable. Can you hear it from where you rest? Can you make out the sounds over the haunted hum of the Autumn wind?"

-Tyler Knott Gregson

Everleigh sneaked a glance across the table to the man sitting across from her and felt a pang of regret jab in her in the ribs. She'd been unbearably unpleasant all evening, knowing full well John hadn't done anything to deserve it. She had barely spoken ten words since they'd sat down in a quiet coffee shop almost an hour ago and John had stopped trying to make conversation 30 minutes in.

"All right, what's going on?" John finally asked, trying his best to hide the frustration in his voice.

"Nothing," she replied, picking up a spoon and stirring her coffee for what must have been the twentieth time.

"I'm not stupid."

She finally turned her head up to face his. His eyes were wide with worry, but his annoyance was etched into the lines around his mouth. She knew John had the patience of a saint, having to put up with Sherlock practically 24/7, and she was sure that was where all of it went. The truth was, she'd lost interest in, well everything. She'd woken up that morning covered in sweat after two hours of restless sleep. The haunting blackness had overtook her already fading mind, whatever hope she had garnered was wiped out. Her phone had nine missed calls, all from the unknown number. She felt like she was on the edge of breaking down, teetering on a cracking ledge. Only now, she hoped it would shatter, sending her falling down to rock bottom. Who cared anymore?

"I know that," she finally answered, trying her best to give him a small smile, "I'm just tired is all. Didn't sleep well last night."

"I uh, wanted to thank you for patching Sherlock up last night. I would have had to do it at home and that's never fun," John said changing the subject, his eyes still ridden with apprehension.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. He really did a number on himself there. Is he all right?"

"Sherlock is never 'all right'. He gets a few things wrong now and again. Not that he'll admit it either way."

For the first time that evening, Ev cracked a real smile, John joining her. John was the only real thing in her life at the moment. He was always there, always happy, understanding, yet she knew she needed to tread carefully. She knew John held some sort of feelings for her; the soft look in his eyes, the wayward glances but the feelings weren't mutual. The last thing in the world Everleigh wanted was a romantic relationship at the moment. There was no way she could emotionally support another person, she was barely holding herself together. Was that to say she wouldn't possibly pursue him in the future though? Whenever her mind wandered to John, it always ended at Sherlock. His grey eyes, dark curls, the cold arrogance, and the bits and pieces of him she'd caught in his rare moments of vulnerability. He was interesting and captivating, but she got the feeling not many other people felt that way about him.

"You saved his life last night," she stated, giving her companion a soft look.
"Who told you that?" he asked her, his eyebrows crinkling together.

"Sherlock."

"He, admitted that?"

"Well, no. I just asked him how he had caught the man, especially after being so banged up, and he said you shot him through the heart."

"That blow to the head must have been harder than I thought it was."

The duo laughed again, Ev felt the weight on her chest lift just slightly, John had the tendency to do that. His lighthearted humor and wide smile made it impossible to stay in her self-wallowing misery.

"Well, I should probably get going. Do you want me to give you a ride home? I don't mind at all," Ev told her friend sadly, taking the last cold sip of her coffee.

"No it's all right, you should go home and get some sleep. It'll do you good," John replied, standing up to pull her chair out for her.

With a quick hug she bade her dearest friend good night and got into her car, not looking forward to what this night would bring.

Everleigh awoke the following morning in the same manner as the day before; drenched in sweat and heart filled with despair. Her hands were shaking as she made her morning tea, her breaths ragged. Her heart thundered in her chest, giving the berating voice a drum beat to speak in cadence with. Disappointment. Failure. Alone. Alone. Alone. She clapped her hands over her ears, but the sounds were coming from inside the walls. The echoes of her breath, the strum of her pounding heart, it had to stop. Everleigh ran from her kitchen into her living room, doing the only thing she'd ever known to calm her worsening anxiety attack.

She threw the wooden barrier up, dust spraying into the air, to reveal the long line of white and black keys. Her fingers delicately grazed over each one, their cool, smooth texture soothing. It had been so long since she'd even touched the keys to the piano, it was time to break this long, crippling spell. The baby grand welcomed her home, her fingers gracefully dancing over the keys as if she'd never stopped playing a day in her life. The melody filled her mind; calming the nerves and paralyzing the anxiety coursing it's way through her body. She began with a personal favorite, Claire de Lune; it was committed to her memory, destined never to leave. The enchanting soft hum lulled her mind into a more peaceful state, her thoughts drifted away from the debilitating horrors. She thought of her father, he'd left when she was 13, but the few memories she held before that were ones she would cherish. He had always been a happy man, his disappearance had truly hit her hard, and he had loved her. They floated on to her grandparents, the two single greatest people she had ever known. Taking her and her cousin in and never complaining, teaching them, guiding them. But they had been overwhelmed. Then to John, with his exceptional positive outlook and fierce ability to care and love, he was truly one of a kind. Finally, they came to Sherlock. The fearful child that broke through the exterior, the lonely man that hid behind the cold mask. Deep down, Everleigh knew her and Sherlock were more alike than she cared to ever admit.

After over an hour of rekindling her love of music, Ev felt herself tired again, her mind finally at rest. The only thing echoing through her mind now were the soft notes of the piano, lulling her back to sleep.

Bill, bill, bill, what? Everleigh flipped through her mail. She'd awoken refreshed and clear headed after a short nap. She discarded the bills onto her counter, ripping the ornately decorated white envelope that remained.

You are cordially invited to the joining of

Hannah Nicole Braxton and Thomas Phillips

In holy matrimony

On the 28th of September 2012.

Her resolve broke. How dare she? The cardboard save the date crumpled in Ev's fist. That backstabbing, manipulative, pathetic little bitch, this was the ultimate slap in the face. How could she even think for one moment that Ev would want to attend her wedding to her own ex fiancé? Her body shook with anger. As she tried to fight the tears her face grew hot, with rage, with regret, the sadness finally spilling over. She screamed, grabbing the first thing she could find and hurtling into the wall. The thin glass of her grandmother's wine glass shattered as it impacted with the wall, another following in its path. The betrayal, the pain, it was too much. Her wails boomed through the entire house, for once in her life she was glad she lived alone. This is what her life had become. A broken heap of a woman once destined for greatness, sobbing on the floor as she watched her discarded heart beating, bloody and battered. Her will to live lost.

The old saying was not true, it was not better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. She wanted to throttle the blind idiot that had said that. Or perhaps, maybe it was possible to feel that way, when you didn't have to watch your family parade around with said lost love. The thought of watching Hannah walk down the aisle to him, her family smiling and gleeful, it made her sick to stomach. She felt the bile rising into her throat. She lifted herself up onto the sink and began dry heaving before what little she had in her stomach came out, burning her throat. As her stomach heaved and her eyes watered, some clarity came back to her. She'd thrown her grandmother's wine glasses. Those had been in the family for three generations, and now they lay shattered on her kitchen floor. Another wave of anger flooded through her, only this time it was at herself.

She crawled over to the shards littering the white tile. She felt one stab into her palms, but she didn't care. The blood started seeping through the puncture wound, leaving a thin trail of blood as she dragged her hands across the linoleum. The sight was gruesome but the pain not comparable to the stabbing wound of heartbreak. She had known she and Tom were never getting back together; hell she hadn't even wanted it. She was unsure of what upset her the most, the fact that Hannah had stolen him away from her, or the fact that no matter how hard she tried to escape him, he would always be there. He was a permanent fixture in her life, reminding her of her shortcomings. She'd tried her hardest to be everything he had wanted her to be, but it was never enough. How was one expected to move on when the roadblock was never removed?

She picked up the stems of the broken glasses, running her thumb over the razor sharp edges. She watched the blood ooze from the newly torn skin, feeling as if her body and mind were completely different things. She failed to really comprehend that it was her finger that was cut open. Her glazed eyes followed the drops as they fell to the floor, her delusion setting in. Her body was exhausted, her heart was broken and her mind had shut down. She was numb, she peered down at her hands, smeared with her own blood, three shards of glass sticking into the skin, but she felt no pain. She needed help. With the last ounce of strength she could muster, she grabbed her phone and called the only person she knew would come.

"Hello?"

"John…"

"Everleigh, my God you sound awful, what's happened? Are you all right?"

"No."

"Are you home?"
"Yes."

"I'll be right there."

Sherlock and John sat in their living room, John flipped through a magazine as Sherlock perused the long list of emails clogging his inbox. Waste of time, stupid, waste of time, maybe, no, no. The cases were all so simple; he solved them just by reading the title. He needed a real case, something he could stretch his mind with, he could feel it going stagnant which would leave him with no choice but to resort to the, less desirable solutions. A stagnant mind never did anyone any good it only led to trouble. Bored! His head ached and his left eye was still slightly swollen which made looking through the microscope almost impossible. His new bacteria specimens sat idly in the refrigerator, right beside his newly acquired human brain, which also needed dissecting. Add that to the list of more things that were impossible to do. He needed a case.

When John's phone went off, Sherlock felt his spirits rise. Maybe this was something to do. He listened in on the short conversation. It was Ellie. She was unwell. No doubt John would travel alone to her flat, which left him in an even worse predicament than he was already in.

"What's going on?" Sherlock asked his friend as John rushed about collecting his belongings.

"I don't know. Something's happened at Everleigh's place," John answered, throwing his jacket onto his shoulders.

"Maybe I should come along."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"You're not exactly a very comforting person to have around."

Sherlock scowled over at his friend, but he knew he was right. Sherlock had little regard for emotions, they were messy and useless, and they got in the way of seeing the truth. So many times a sobbing mother or wife, or a traumatized brother had given him misinformation; it was just all a tiresome game at this point. He watched John run down the stairs, this woman really had a hold on him. Ah the petty feelings of love, pathetic. Caring was not an advantage.

Sherlock peered into the window. There was no evidence of a break in from what he'd been able to see. John had begun sweeping up the shards of glass littering the floor, doing his part to prevent her from doing any more damage to herself. She hadn't moved a muscle since he had begun watching. Seated on the floor, knees pulled up to chest, her glazed eyes stared out the window, yet she didn't even notice he was standing looking at her through the very same one.

She did not look to John. She didn't even acknowledge him, her hands stayed limp in his as he took them into his own to assess their damage. She looked almost peaceful, her eyes seemingly focused on a small sparrow flitting to and fro on a branch that rested against the glass pane. Sherlock's eyes searched through the room, a small white card lay discarded under her table, crumpled into a tight wad, she had clearly shattered two glasses, getting the sharp remnants of her outburst embedded into her palms, her phone lay discarded to her right, blood hardening from where her thumb touched. She looked like hell. He needed to see what was on that card; the reasoning for her current state would be there. John was frantic, panicking. And why? She was fine, a little cut up, depressed, which Sherlock knew already, she'd be fine after a cup of tea and some television no doubt. But the question for her outbreak scratched at the corner of his mind, he knew she was hiding something and this was at least one part of it.

This would occupy his mind at least for a little while, the great mystery of Everleigh Rose. It was time to reveal himself, John would be annoyed, but his catatonic friend probably wouldn't even notice; he needed that card.

"John," he announced, glass crunching under his shoes in the hallway.

"Sherlock! What are you doing here?" John asked, clearly very angry.

"I wanted to see if she was all right."
"No. You didn't."

At the sound of Sherlock's voice, Everleigh snapped out of her trance. Her watery eyes turned to his and for a moment, he was horrified. All he saw was pain and suffering, he saw everything in her eyes that he worked so hard to mask in his own. Her face was red and blotchy, her hands now clean and bandaged thanks to John. He felt drawn to her and before he knew it, his feet had transported to stand directly in front of her broken, battered form. He saw the other half of himself in her, the half that wanted to break down and stop pretending that everything was all right, because it wasn't. It hadn't been for a long time. He knew his façade wasn't going to last, it was chipping away the longer he stayed near her.

"John, I think you should go find her a blanket," Sherlock suggested as he crouched down, her eyes following him.

"Yeah all right," John reluctantly agreed, walking to find her bedroom.

Sherlock could do nothing but stare at her. Her sadness was mesmerizing, reassuring. He knew his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes were telling her everything she needed to know. It was moments like this that made her heart stutter, the childlike wonder and the beautiful shattered soul she saw in his grey eyes. Neither one of them spoke, they didn't need to, their words traveled silently to one another. In that moment they felt one in the same, each suffering silently, taking comfort solely in the presence of the other. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock repeated to himself in his mind over and over, but it did no good. Not this time. He thought to all the times as a child he'd went and cried to his brother, only to be pushed away, his parents had held no sympathy for him either. He had been truly alone in the world, and he knew she had as well. The great mystery of Everleigh Rose, perhaps the greatest mystery was not her past, but her future.

Sherlock heard John's footsteps approaching; he needed to put himself back together. He quickly stood up and walked out of the open door to her front step into the cool mid morning air. He felt all his pieces snapping back together and being swept back into the deep recesses of his soul, but he was still shaken. This girl was dangerous. This girl could be his undoing.

John stood Everleigh up gently and led her to her bed. He held her bandaged hand in his as she laid herself down. He felt like at any moment she was just going to break, physically and emotionally.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked her softly, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

She shook her head no, catching a glimpse of a dark figure in her window. It must be Sherlock, she thought as she closed her eyes, ready to spend these next few hours in peace. She knew from that day forward neither John nor Sherlock would ever look at her the same again, whether it was for the better or worse remained to be determined.

As soon as John had taken Ellie from the kitchen, Sherlock reentered her home, remembering his original reason for going in there in the first place. He snatched the crumpled wad of paper from it's hiding spot, opening it up to reveal some sort of wedding invitation. Hannah Nicole Braxton and Thomas Phillips. Their first meeting came flooding back into his mind; 'it was my cousin. He was sleeping with my cousin.' Everything made sense now.

"Ready?" John asked as he walked back into the kitchen, his eyes tired.

Sherlock nodded as he slipped the white cardboard ball into his pocket just as his cell phone started to vibrate. Lestrade. Oh good, a case.

A/N: Whew, this one was a little heavy, hopefully good. I apologize for any grammar or spelling errors, it's 4 AM here and I've been working on it since about 5 o'clock, with frequent tumblr breaks in between… Ugh, if you guys haven't watched anything from Ben at the BAFTA's, you tube it! So adorable.

Thank you to indescribablemusic, breathewithme, and Mandy for you kind words. Every review means more to me than I can explain, it's such a fantastic feeling.

Make sure you paid close attention to those last 4 little paragraphs, it's got a teeny tiny hint in there. The next few chapters are going to be exploring lots of feeeelings! Finally! We're getting into some good stuff. I have so much written for later chapters, some awful, some gut-wrenchingly adorable I can't wait to share it with you all.

Please review/follow/favorite, it really does make me smile!