It was slow, but with each passing day Caitlin began to pick up the pieces of her life. With every new day, a small sliver of her old self would fall back in to place. A smile here, a joke there, even her laughter would make an appearance now and then. But there were also the times when those small victories were outweighed by the darkness Caitlin struggled to break free from. An unexplained sound would send her into a panic. An extended hand would make her flinch. It was agonizing for the two men to watch, but there was only so much they could do.
Caitlin hardly ever left the flat. She would go to her follow ups with her doctor and her physical therapy but beyond that she would normally be found curled in Sherlocks chair or secluded in the bedroom. This continued for a couple of weeks until one day John decided to talk to her. Caitlin was sitting in the living room and when John sat next to her on the couch she looked up from her book, a questioning look on her face. John cleared his throat, almost as if he were nervous before he spoke.
"Caitlin," John glanced away quickly before continuing, "Sherlock and I are worried about you."
Caitlin closed her book and stared at her lap.
"What you went through," John paused as Caitlin gripped her book so hard her knuckles turned white. He continued cautiously.
"What you went through is…. horrendous. I can't even imagine what-" John stopped as he saw tears forming in Caitlin's eyes. Letting out a sigh, he placed a hand on hers. "My point is, sitting here and stewing in it can only be making it worse." As a few tears rolled down Caitlin's cheeks he asked,
"Have you considered therapy? Or even joining a support group?"
When he received no answer he closed his eyes in dejection before standing. When Caitlin still refused to make eye contact he turned and murmured, "Just think about it ok?" before leaving her alone once more.
Late that night Sherlock arrived home. Tossing his coat and scarf over his chair he stopped in the bathroom before entering the bedroom as silently as possible. Confident that he didn't wake Caitlin he quickly undressed and slid into bed only to hear a soft,
"John thinks I should go to therapy."
Sherlock watched Caitlin roll over to face him. Pushing himself up on one elbow, Sherlock cocked his head. Normally he would scoff at such an idea. But this was not about him so he paused before asking
"And what are your thoughts about that?"
Pushing herself up on an elbow as well Caitlin was quiet. Staring down at the scars scattered across her arms she all but whispered,
"I think I should. If I don't do something, I feel like I'll drown. My mind is constantly filled with what happened, and the dreams haven't stopped-"
Caitlin cut herself off to find Sherlock looking at her with slightly widened eyes, his brow furrowed. Tears began to form in her eyes when she heard his soft baritone ask,
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Caitlin rushed out an explanation. "They weren't as bad anymore and I didn't want to worry you! I've been able to handle them and-" sniffling she couldn't keep the tears from falling. She didn't even know who she was trying to convince anymore.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Reaching out and pulling her into his arms as more tears came Sherlock ran his fingers softly through Caitlin's hair.
"It's ok" he murmured softly as she cried. He kissed the top of her head.
"It will be ok"