It took a few weeks but Caitlin was finally cleared and discharged from the hospital. Mycroft had even been kind enough to send a car to bring her back to Baker Street. Caitlin had spent the entire ride curled into Sherlock's side in complete silence. As the car pulled to a stop, Sherlock gently brushed his thumb against her shoulder before murmuring,

"We're home."

Looking up at Sherlock, Caitlin blinked as if she had been in a trance. Before she could say anything however, the car door opened and she let out a scream, pushing herself to the other side of the seat as fast as possible. Briefly registering Sherlock's stream of explitives at whoever was on the other side of the door, Caitlin's breathing started to speed up. It only began to return to normal when she felt gentle hands on either side of her face, her name being murmured softly but firmly. Caitlin's eyes began to refocus and met the concerned green/blue gaze of her love. Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments, Caitlin exhaled.

"I'm ok. Let's go."

"You're sure?" Sherlock asked as he lowered his hands. Caitlin took one of his hands in her own.

"Yes. I'm ready to be home."

Sherlock tightened their grip just a little before helping Caitlin out of the car and leading her past the now very ashamed and embarrassed looking driver.

The walk upstairs was quiet but Caitlin kept a firm grip on Sherlock's hand. Opening the door, Sherlock watched as Caitlin stood still for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. Setting her bag down, Sherlock asked quietly

"Tea?"

Caitlin nodded her head before slowly walking around the room. Hearing Sherlock's soft footsteps disappear into the kitchen Caitlin continued to wander. She let her fingertips lightly brush over the furniture, as if to make sure it was really there. There was John's laptop sitting in it's usual spot next to his chair. And there was Sherlock's violin next to his music stand. The desks were still covered in papers, the mantel still layered with dust and all the books still askew on their shelves. Everything was just the same, as if she was never gone. Resting her hand on the arm of Sherlock's chair, Caitlin jumped when a clinking of glass broke into her thoughts. Seeing her slightly widened eyes Sherlock inwardly cringed before saying,

"Here love."

Seeing the teacup that had been placed in front of her, Caitlin calmed.

"Thank you," she murmured before taking a sip.

Perching on the arm of Sherlock's chair Caitlin took a few more sips before saying

"I think I'm going to go lay down."

"Of course."

Smiling softly at Sherlock's reply, Caitlin headed towards the bedroom pausing only to squeeze Sherlock's hand for an instant. Watching Caitlin until the door closed behind her, Sherlock sighed before sinking into his chair. He had no idea what to do.

Caitlin leaned against the closed door for a moment. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath letting the familiar smells of Sherlock's room wash over her. Old Spice. City smoke. Chemicals. She took off her sweater and tossed it at the end of the bed before climbing in. As soon as she lay down Caitlin's body and mind relaxed. All the tension that she'd been holding in her neck and shoulders eased and the turmoil in her brain quieted. Burying her face in the pillows she inhaled, smelling Sherlock's shampoo. Smiling, Caitlin audibly exhaled. She was home. She was safe and she was back where she belonged. Snuggling deep under the covers she almost instantly fell asleep.

Caitlin heard violin music and rolled over in bed. Squinting at the clock she realized it was later than she thought it was. She threw back the covers so she could get up and dressed before heading into the kitchen. Opening the door, she smiled as she heard John reading out case files only to be cut off by Sherlock.

"Boring, boring, the wife did it, boring…"

Chuckling as Sherlock winked at her while continuing to play, Caitlin was surprised to find an actual clean mug in the cabinet. Turning the kettle on, Caitlin picked up the newspaper and started to scan the front page when she noticed it. Sherlock's lovely music had changed. It was now very shrill, almost like shrieking. Caitlin dropped the paper and covered her ears as the whistle of the kettle joined in. Running past the two men, Caitlin ran down the stairs wishing the noise would stop. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she was just about to wrench the door open when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning sharply, Caitlin found Sherlock in front of her, his face worried.

"Caitlin love, are you alright?"

"It stopped." Caitlin sighed in relief.

"Stopped? Oh no, we're just getting started."

Watching as Sherlock's face morphed into her attacker she screamed as she felt the knives cut into her skin.

Caitlin continued to scream and beg for him to stop as tears ran down her face.

As soon as the first scream pierced the air, Sherlock was out of his chair before you could blink. Nearly ripping the door off it's hinges, Sherlock found Caitlin thrashing in bed, the sheets tangled around her as she clawed at her invisible attacker. Careful to dodge her hands and arms he sat and started calling her name, lightly cupping her face with his hands.

"Caitlin…CAITLIN! Love please wake up!"

Her eyes shot open, panicked and fearful as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"No…NO! Let go! Stop…stop…"

"Love it's me.." Sherlock mummered as she continued to flail, Sherlock trying to keep her from hurting herself but also trying not to panic her more. An idea suddenly popped into his head. Tilting her face, he looked into her wild eyes before softly singing

"You are my lucky star…"

Caitlin's breathing slowed to normal. The only one who knew that was…

"S-Sherlock?"

As his eyes came into focus and she looked around and saw she was home at Baker Street, she let out a gasp of relief before letting him pull her into his arms all the while stuttering back between tears,

"I'm lucky in your arms…"

As she cried Sherlock reassured Caitlin that it was just a nightmare. Stroking her hair, Sherlock sat and held her until she had fallen asleep once more. Once he had pulled the covers over her, Sherlock ran his hands through his hair and down his face before sighing. He needed a stiff drink and something he never asked for. Help.