Are You Worried? (Sherlock)

[matilda3948]

Just a one-shot I thought I'd share. It's post season 4 so spoilers if you're not caught up. Hope you like  

 

Sherlock shivered and readjusted the collar of his coat to guard against the wind as he exited the helicopter. He sniffled and coughed into a gloved fist while walking towards the entrance. He’d been nursing a cold for several days and really didn’t feel well, but he only got to visit Eurus twice per month and he wasn’t going to miss one of his scheduled visits for the sniffles. John had teased him (albeit gently) about sentiment clouding his judgement but they both knew things were different now. How could they not be?

Sherlock put his coat, scarf, and gloves in the visitor’s locker and let the guards search both him and his violin case. He was then led down the long, dim hallway towards his sister’s cell. He repressed a shudder as the memories from a few months ago came rushing over him. There was something about this point on the walk that always unsettled him. Perhaps that was when his subconscious first realized something was terribly wrong during that first trip to the island. His escort swiped his keycard and entered a seven digit code to unlock the door and then he turned around and went back the way he came.

“Good morning, sister,” Sherlock said, coming into the room. He wondered if she would speak today. If she would be happy to see him or angry. If she would lead or follow when they played. If she would avoid eye contact or stare at him nonstop. If there was a pattern to her behavior, he hadn’t found it yet. He unzipped his case and took out his violin, picking at the strings and tweaking the tuning before reaching for his bow. He stopped and grabbed for his handkerchief instead.

hahMFshhh! hhmfSHHH!

He wiped his nose and pocketed the cloth again before picking up his bow. When he turned around he found Eurus standing at the ready, violin beneath her chin, bow poised on the strings.

“Any preference this morning?” he asked. Apparently this was a “not talking day” because she closed her eyes and started in on a beautiful concerto. Not talking was fine by Sherlock and he listened for a few bars before coming in behind her and playing the harmony. It wasn’t a piece he knew—his sister likely wrote it herself—but he was able to follow along well enough.

Well, he thought he was following along okay but Eurus suddenly scraped her bow across the strings angrily and stopped playing with a huff.

“Wrong!” she said.

“I don’t know the piece,” he said.

“That’s never mattered before.”

“Forgive me, sister.” He sniffled and cleared his throat. “Shall we try again?”

Music soon flowed from the violins once again as the siblings fell into harmony. However, at the same place as before Sherlock played the wrong note. Eurus cried out in frustration.

“Ugh. You’re stupid today,” she said. Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to come out while not feeling 100%.

“Perhaps I should go,” he said.

“No. You should stay and stop being stupid.”

Sherlock quickly tucked his bow under his arm to free up at least one hand to get his handkerchief back out of his jacket pocket. He angled away from the glass wall between him and his sister and brought the cloth up to his face.

hahhMNSHH! AhhMSHHoo!

He stayed frozen in place unsure if there was an additional sneeze to follow. His breath hitched three times before the tickle finally overwhelmed him.

hahh Hah Ahh hahhmnSHHHoo!

“Excuse me,” he said thickly. He blew his nose and walked back over to his open violin case, swapping the used handkerchief for one of the three clean ones he had brought as backup.

“You’re sick,” Eurus said. Sherlock put his violin down before turning around.

“I have a cold,” he said.

“Why did you come if you were sick?”

“I didn’t realize it would so severely inhibit my musical skills.”

“That’s not what I mean.” she said. He sighed and then frowned when it turned into a cough. He raised his arm and coughed against the fabric of his suit coat. When he looked up he saw his sister was as intent as ever at getting answers.

“It was my day to visit. They don’t let me reschedule.”

“So?”

“I only get two visits per month and I didn’t want to go that long without seeing you,” he said.

“Why?”

This was one of the moments where Sherlock had to remind himself how dangerous she was. These moments when she seemed genuinely bewildered by someone making an effort to show her basic kindness made Sherlock forget. She looked small and young, those big eyes full of confusion and vulnerability. He tilted his head and analyzed her, trying to figure out if this was legitimate or a game. His instincts said legitimate but it was so hard to tell.

“I like seeing you,” he said. “I like our mornings playing music together.”

She narrowed her eyes and came as close to the glass as possible. Sherlock resisted the urge to back up or look away. Even though he knew she was secured and couldn’t hurt him, he didn’t like when she mentally dissected him like she was doing now. He was almost thankful for the building irritation in his nose because it would give him a reason to turn away from that calculating gaze.

hah HAHHmnshhhh! hhMNSHHHoo!

He blew his nose and coughed several times. What he wouldn’t do for a cup of tea. He sniffed and straightened back up.

“Excuse me.”

“You’re cold.” It wasn’t a question and yes, in fact, he was chilled. “George, increase the heat two degrees,” she called out to the ceiling. When she looked back at her brother she smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going mad…madder. Our dear older brother thought an AI assistant would be less corruptible so he installed George to take care of some of my more mundane daily needs. I wanted to name him Jim but Myrcoft refused. He didn’t think it was as funny as I did.”

“Sense of humor has never really been his strength,” Sherlock said. His voice caught again and he quickly raised an arm to block the bought of coughing that overtook him. It took an embarrassingly long time to get himself under control this time. He was going to lose his voice by tomorrow if he kept up like this.

“George, tea!” Eurus shouted at the ceiling. “Sit down,” she said to Sherlock. “You’re rubbish at playing today anyway.”

Sherlock pulled a chair up closer to the glass and sat down. A minute later the secure door opened and a guard came in with a rolling cart with a tea pot, two cups, and sugar, milk, and lemon. He walked over to the pass-through to Eurus’ cell.

“Against the wall, please.”

“I don’t want tea you moron. It’s for my brother.”

“Alright. Enjoy, sir.”

The moment the door clicked behind the guard, Sherlock looked at his sister with a smirk.

“Are you worried about me, sister dear?”

“Which one is that?”

“It’s the one where you don’t like the discomfort other people are feeling and try and ameliorate it to avoid a worsening of their condition.”

“No, that’s not the one,” she sighed.

Was this what it’s like when John tries to explain emotions to him? Sherlock wondered as he fixed a cup of tea. It was frustrating and…sad to tell the truth. He put a bit of lemon in his tea and took a tiny sip. It was still quite hot but it felt wonderful against his throat.

“Thank you for the tea,” he said. She didn’t respond or even look like she had registered the comment. “It’s very good,” Sherlock said, trying to see if he could prod some kind of response from her.

“He sends me the best of everything,” she said.

“Mycroft?”

“I hate him.”

Sherlock paused. He found it disconcerting the number of times he’s risen to his brother’s defense since the whole incident on Sherrinford. Many people were angry at him but Eurus was the only one who really had reason to hate him. He would hate him if Mycroft had him locked away like this—even if it was for everyone’s safety.

“I don’t blame you,” he finally said. “If I were you, I’d hate him too.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to pluck out his eyes and—”

“Stop,” he said sharply.

“Why? Wouldn’t it be fun to—”

“I will not listen to this.” He stood and put his tea cup down, ready to leave early if this was going to turn into a “ways Eurus could torture Mycroft” session. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

“You still care about him?” She practically spat the accusation. “After everything he’s done, you still care about him?” Sherlock met her gaze and nodded once. “How?” she demanded.

“For the same reason I still care about you. You are my family. No matter what you’ve done, it doesn’t change the fact that we are siblings.”

“So sentimental,” she hissed. “It’s always been your downfall.” She began pacing the length of her cell.

Sherlock sighed and sat back down in his chair. How many times had he lectured on the dangers of sentiment—the grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment? How many times had Mycroft lectured him on the same topic? In the end, it was sentiment that saved him—that still stung a bit. It was also why he was still sitting in front of his sister’s cell; he didn’t want to leave her agitated and upset. That was not the point of these visits. He sniffed and took another couple sips of his tea. Eurus continued to pace and he was glad for the momentary distraction. Sherlock took out his handkerchief and folded it over his nose, blowing it in an attempt to quell the itch that had been building the last few minutes. He was looking forward to getting home. John and Rosie would be there. Even though they hadn’t officially moved in yet, they were spending more and more time at Baker Street and he knew John would want to make sure he was okay after seeing Eurus. Maybe they could get take away and watch one of those ridiculous shows with the talking animals that Rosie’s so fond of.

hahh..hah AhhSHHHoo! hhNSHHHoo!

So much for getting rid of the tickle. If anything it seemed to have gotten worse in the last five minutes.

Ahh AhhNTSHHH! hahhTSHHHoo!

Sherlock felt a sharp pain in his sinuses and winced. John was not going to be pleased with him if this little excursion cost him a sinus infection. He folded the cloth in half and lifted it to his face once again.

ahhTSCHHoo! AHHSCHHH!

He stood and walked over to his violin case. As he was reaching inside, Eurus cried out,

“Don’t leave!”

He turned around and felt an odd pang of sympathy. She had her hands to the glass and looked like she might actually cry.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “Just getting another one of these.” He showed her the clean handkerchief he took from the case.

“I thought you were leaving early because of what I said about the other one. I don’t want you to leave me, Sherlock.”

“I forgive you for what you said about Mycroft.” He returned to his seat and poured another cup of tea.

“But I’m not sorry.”

hahhMNTSHHH! hhNTSHHoo!

“I’ll play for you,” she said. “You’re sick and stupid today, so I’ll play.” She grabbed her violin and drew her bow across the strings. In another life, she could have been a concert violinist, he thought. The music was beautiful and her technique perfect and soulful. For the next thirty minutes, she swayed with the music, eyes closed and as close to peaceful as Sherlock had ever seen her. He continued to sneeze and cough with increased frequency but it didn’t seem to faze her. As soon as she finished, she looked to him for his approval.

“That was ehh…ahh…excuse me…extraordinary.”

ahhNTSHHHoo! hahNTSHHoo!

“You should go home now, brother dear. You’re running a fever.”

“You’re right. Thank you for playing for me.” He rose from his chair and began packing up his violin case.

“I hope you’re recovered next time,” she said. “You play terribly when you’re ill.”

“I do think you’re a little worried about me,” he said. “It’s kind of you, sister. I might hug you if they’d let me.”

“But they won’t, because there’s no way to tell if I would hug you back or snap your neck.”

Sherlock shivered, choosing to blame it on the fever. He picked up his case and stopped in front of the glass.

“I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Goodbye brother.”

 

[Oolia]

ARGH I got so excited when I saw that you'd posted a new story, but I haven't seen all of season 4. I'M SO TORN.

I'll binge watch this weekend and come right back here

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Wonderful fic! Your Eurus is just as creepy as the original. The exchange as Sherlock tries to explain an emotion to her was fabulous. 

Edited March 31, 2017 by Sanguine Cheerful Worrier

[SneezyHolmes]

My god this was beautifully written! Thanks for posting!  

[Shamaël]

Wow. Just... wow. Eurus is as frightening as she is in the show and I love Sherlock's point of view (especially the part when he wonders if it's what John weht through when he had to explain to him what feelings are...). And the fact that he's got handkerchiefs in his violin case...

12 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

I wanted to name him Jim but Myrcoft refused. He didn’t think it was as funny as I did.”

“Sense of humor has never really been his strength,” Sherlock said.

Okay, I found it funny. 

12 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

“But they won’t, because there’s no way to tell if I would hug you back or snap your neck.”

Sherlock shivered, choosing to blame it on the fever.

(Swallowing painfully. Glups.) Oh. My. God. What a perfect ending. Thank you so much for this post-season 4 fic!

[Snape]

Great fic! A bit funny and their personalities- oh my God. Just loved it

[AngelEyes]

This is great. Serious, funny, creepy, all at once!

On 3/29/2017 at 10:16 PM, matilda3948 said:

This was one of the moments where Sherlock had to remind himself how dangerous she was.

So true.

 

On 3/29/2017 at 10:16 PM, matilda3948 said:

I wanted to name him Jim but Myrcoft refused. He didn’t think it was as funny as I did.”

 

 

“Sense of humor has never really been his strength,” Sherlock said.

Too funny!

 

On 3/29/2017 at 10:16 PM, matilda3948 said:

Was this what it’s like when John tries to explain emotions to him? Sherlock wondered as he fixed a cup of tea.

Insight!

 

On 3/29/2017 at 10:16 PM, matilda3948 said:

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to pluck out his eyes and—”

And...Creepy...

 

On 3/29/2017 at 10:16 PM, matilda3948 said:

Sherlock sighed and sat back down in his chair. How many times had he lectured on the dangers of sentiment—the grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment? How many times had Mycroft lectured him on the same topic? In the end, it was sentiment that saved him—that still stung a bit.

I like this part. The inner battle.

 

On 3/29/2017 at 10:16 PM, matilda3948 said:

“But they won’t, because there’s no way to tell if I would hug you back or snap your neck.”

And...Super creepy! I love how matter of fact she is about it. Like it really could go either way.