Chapter 7: The thought of a new beginning and the shadow of the past
Sherlock woke up in a bed that wasn't his. He hadn't really call his bed 'his' yet. He had only slept in it a few hours but this was a different one. Opening his eyes he met his brother's eyes who were watching him.
"Good morning Sherlock." His cheeks flashed red. He remembered the lonely feeling from last night and the nightmare and all the things that had brought him to his brother's bedroom. But sleeping in the same bed was a bit embarrassing. "Morning." Sherlock mumbled into the cushions.
His brother must have sensed his embarrassment and they got out of the bed and ready for breakfast without further conversation. Sherlock was glad to disappear into the bathroom and his room for a quick shower and a change of clothes.
Today there would be another therapy session, Mycroft would show him a few universities and Sherlock would have time to continue his reading in the living room. A busy day was ahead of him. Something Sherlock was beginning to like, even need. When he was busy with appointments and had plans, he had less time to think about his dreams and the past. Hopefully his days would continue to be like that.
The breakfast was relaxed and none of them mentioned the bed sharing thing. The universities that Mycroft showed him where close by. Sherlock's questioning look on the locations got him an insecure look from Mycroft, something you couldn't really see often.
"I would like you to stay close, if you don't mind." Mycroft avoided Sherlock's eyes which gave Sherlock a warm feeling in his chest. His brother wanted him close, it was nice and also something Sherlock would like to continue. Being close to his brother.
The meeting with Dr. Michelson would be in the afternoon and Sherlock started reading another of his science books from the library while his brother worked in the same room on his computer, a work issue he had told Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't really interested in the secret government work his brother was doing. From tomorrow on his brother would be at work during the day. Normal but also new for Sherlock. His brother had been with him since he had found him or better John had brought him to Mycroft. It would be a change but change was a part of life and his brother had done enough by finding Sherlock and bringing him back home. He should go back to work; it wouldn't be normal if he did not.
Sherlock thought about his future, not only to avoid the past but also to find every possible way to go forward and search for the best and right way for him. University sounded good. He could still live with his brother, have access to knowledge, would meet people that didn't know him or his past and he would learn to stand on his own feet. During his train of thoughts Sherlock tended to think of positive aspects.
Thinking about negative stuff was a bit difficult, because it always lead to Moriarty. Speaking of that monster, he was still on the run. Sherlock knew his brother was doing everything to catch that psychopath. But it didn't change the fact that the man was still free and could snitch Sherlock away from this life, a life he was starting to create and build.
Another thing was that he missed John and even with the letters it wasn't the same as having him close. But he couldn't depend on someone again; John had told him that he must be his own Master from now on. He could trust him and Mycroft. But he should not depend on them and follow orders. He needed to find his own way, John had told him. What did that mean? When he followed a way he had decided all by himself, did that make him an independent human being or was it just an illusion? Sherlock's thoughts became darker. Because all his life all his thoughts, his knowledge, everything had been created and shaped by Moriarty. Was it really his decision when he decided to do something? Or was his current doing in some way controlled by the life he had experienced until now?
Sherlock stayed in his head for the remainder of the morning without really reading the book in front of him. Mycroft must have noticed Sherlock's change in mood but must have decided that he couldn't help. After a light lunch they were on their way to Dr. Michelson, Mycroft had insisted in accompanying him. Secretly he was happy about it.
Sherlock would ignore the dog, it wouldn't be right to ask her to send him out but as long as he couldn't see him, Sherlock could pretend that Chestnut wasn't there. It was his only thoughts as he entered the doctor's room. She didn't smile at him and her look wasn't one of pity; it was open but he couldn't really tell with her colorless, blind eyes. "Hello Sherlock, I hope you feel better today."
He thought about what to answer. Better yes, he didn't feel like vomiting again. But since the last meeting he had had a nightmare that had chased him into his brother's bed. He had trouble believing that he had something like a free will or that his decisions were his own. And he felt guilty all over for what he did.
"I see you have trouble finding the right answer. But there isn't a right or wrong one. Tell me as much as you feel comfortable with about what flew through your head a second ago." She didn't look directly at him. "Or you tell me something you did today or your plans for the future." This was a different kind or method compared to yesterday. She asked questions. But what to tell her? Best something that wouldn't lead to him breaking down completely.
"I think I want to study chemistry." It was an answer to her last question. The future not the past, he wanted to concentrate on the future and forget the past. Forget Moriarty and the blood and guilt and death. Leave this all behind and start over new. He needed to forget it.
Dr. Michelson looked him over. "You already found something you want to do. That's good. Did you find it by reading the books from the library or from your lessons with Miss Wilder?" Good question. She directed it again into the past. But this question he could answer.
"I was already interested in the possibilities of mixing different substances before I found the books in the library and Miss Wilder was not part of the decision." He was able to say things like that without speaking directly about Moriarty or say his name.
"Would you like to tell me about your night?" Changing the subject suddenly confused him further, he hadn't told her or his brother about the nightmare, how did she know?
"No, I don't want to talk about it. It's not important." A second later Sherlock recognized the mistake in his answer. He hadn't denied the fact that he had had a nightmare and now she knew he had had one.
"Will you tell someone else about it?" Would he? He could write John about it but he wasn't sure. He could tell his brother but he was busy. Or he could…, yes who was there to talk to about it?
"You are the one that is supposed to listen to things like this, right? It is your job." Sherlock countered. Now she had to answer.
"I'm here for you, in whichever way you need me. If you want to talk, talk. I will listen. I won't judge and I won't question it if you won't." The room went silent, she waited for him and Sherlock, he was thinking and waiting. Would she pressure him? Would she continue to ask questions or would she change the topic again?
She didn't, minutes passed, the end of the session came closer and they were still sitting together. Sherlock relaxed. Dr. Michelson wouldn't push him. She gave him time.
"I dreamed about the people I have hurt. I dreamed about their hate against me. They had black hands and the hands held me down. I couldn't move and everywhere there were eyes looking at me." He couldn't continue, he couldn't explain the pain and guilt he felt inside. He couldn't speak about the things he had done. Nor his brother, nor his therapist not even John could know what he had done to survive.
Sherlock's fast breathing continued until he felt a warm hand on his own hands cramping up in his lap. He looked up and met Dr. Michelson's eyes. The colorless eyes had a hypnotic look that caught Sherlock by surprise. Concentrating on his breathing he managed to slow it down and return to a normal rhythm.
"Sherlock are you back with me?" He nodded. "Good. Thank you for sharing your dream with me. I'm here for you to talk about things like this and I hope you will continue to tell me when something like that happens, because that's the way to take all this away. To get you ready for your life without any weight on your shoulders. The dream was a message from your subconscious telling you something. You feel guilty for your actions, that is not only normal, but also good. You still have feelings. You haven't become an emotionless monster like he wanted you to be. You are still you. A feeling human being that did some wrong things that he now regrets. And that is what separates you from him. You are not a monster, you are not like him. You are still Sherlock." Her words made sense. But what would it change for the people he had hurt? They would still be hurt, they would still moan about their loved ones.
They made it home after the therapy this time without a shaken Sherlock. The session came to an end after they had talked about the dream and Sherlock thought that it was probably better this way before they could talk about other things that made him sick again.
Sherlock would have an appointment with Dr. Michelson every day of the week and he wasn't sure if she would be able to help him or make things worse.
Mycroft was busy in the evening with work things for the next day. Sherlock sat with him in the living room on a chair by the window watching the busy life of London in the early evening. He did not want to be alone. His brother had done everything so that Sherlock could begin with his studies early. He would have to take a test but that would be no problem. He was a quick learner. He had to be.
Sherlock was looking forward to it. Something that would bring his life in the right direction. He would have lessons with Miss Wilder for at least another week before he could start. Daily meetings that shouldn't be too boring with homework to busy him in the evening after his sessions with Dr. Michelson.