Weeks had passed since my interaction with sherlock at the bench. He was distant, sure I didn't technically know him that well before but I know sherlock...he's troubled by something. 

I still tagged along with him and John on some cases. I even enjoyed weekly dinners with the Watsons, sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock never spoke about our confusing moment, he moved on as if nothing had ever happened, so I did too. I enjoyed spending time with him, even if it was silent breakfasts at baker street. It was never awkward...it felt normal. 

"Valerie...where are you from?" He asked me. 

We were sitting in silence at his flat, a cup of tea at each of our sides. He was scanning the morning news while I sat reading a book. When he spoke, he didn't raise his head he just continued to read the black and white paper.

"Oh, Ireland," I replied looking up from my book. 

"I know that but where IN Ireland," he says rolling his eyes. 

"Sorry, Mullingar, it's not very big but it was more or less home," I sigh. 

He hums in response before turning back to his paper. I frown slightly before standing up from my position on the couch. Thinking to myself I tap my chin. Finally, I got an idea, nothing much but enough to hit a nerve just for fun. 

I pull my scrunchie out of my hair, letting my long blonde locks fall over my shoulders. I then make my way over to the detective, who still wore his pyjamas and robe. Stepping behind his chair I chuckle to myself before weaving my fingers through his bed head of curls, pulling them into a bunch on top of his head. 

"what on earth are you doing," He grumbles. 

I ignore him briefly as I pull the scrunchie over the messy tuft of hair. 

"ta-da!" I giggle.

He shakes his head lightly causing my artwork to fall apart. 

"Hey!" I say. 

"Don't be ridiculous Valerie," He says, his own smile playing lightly on his lips. 

"Fine," I sigh as I sling the scrunchie at his face. 

He seems stunned at first before he drops his newspaper and picks up the scrunchie. I was curious as to what he was gonna do with it. He stretched it for a moment before frowning slightly. Unexpectedly he aims the scrunchie at me. I laugh at his new behaviour and duck behind John's old chair.

"Well come on, that's not fair," He complains. 

"come on sherlock...play the game," I smirk. 

"Oh, it is on," He grumbles standing up from his chair and walking steadily in my direction. 

I yelp and dash from my hiding spot and into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows at me before attempting to chase me. I ran out of the kitchen, nearly tripping over a stack of books by the door. He effortlessly follows me around the room before catching my foot with his, causing me to stumble and fall to the carpeted floor. I let out a small scream as I hit the ground. Sherlock stops dead in his tracks, his once cheery grin turning into a concerned frown. I can't help but laugh out loud at the situation. 

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I giggle. 

I sit there for a moment while he looks down at me. I was still trying to catch my breath, half expecting him to hold out a hand to help me up. That did not happen. He started for a moment before strutting back to his chair. I push myself off the ground all the while rolling my eyes at the stubborn man. Letting out a tired huff I shuffle my way back to the couch to fetch my book. 

"Thanks for the tea," I grin. 

"Hm," he replies.

I stand by the door for a moment, admiring the newfound concentration on his face before turning the door nob and heading across the hall to my room.

--------------

"Sherlock don't be silly! It's for fun, there isn't a need for it to make any sense," The girl laughed, her messy hair billowing in the wind. 

"Mycroft never liked to do any of this..." The curly-haired boy mumbled a tich of sadness that could be heard wiggling through his words. 

"Well, I'm not Mycroft, Sherl. Now come on! My favourite one is next!" She exclaims, bounding over to the radio next to the porch 

We're caught in a trap...

The young girl grabbed the boy by the arm, dragging him onto the well-trimmed grass. He was confused but yet again he watched her dance around without a care. 

I can't walk out...

---

Sherlock awoke with a start, aggressively looking around the room as if the image of the familiar memory would still be there. He rubbed his face with his hands before swinging his legs over the side of his bed. The detective let out a loud groan of frustration as he makes his way out the door of his room. He was distraught and unsure and he was almost never unsure of anything. He shuffled around the living room, pulling his robe over his shoulders. As he made his way to the kitchen his robe snags against something, out of frustration he yanks at the snag. While ripping his robe free his elbow clashed against a stack of dishes strung about the table. The noise echoed throughout the room and could certainly be heard through the halls. Sherlock cursed one terrible word after the other. His hands were shaking, he couldn't understand why he was so stressed and uncomfortable. It was as if a tidal of anxiety was attempting to drown him for no apparent reason. His eyesight was blurred and his breathing became shallow. A knock at the door caused him to step backwards frantically, stumbling over the mess of his flat. Sherlock barely made it two steps before the door opened on its own. A pair of concerned brown eyes met his tired ones. Her gaze landed on his pale state and she whimpered at the sight. At that moment sherlock's gaze began to fade. He watched her immediately run towards him before everything went dark. 

"Sherlock..."  She whispered, stroking his hair soothingly. He was sweating slightly and there was a tremble in his bones. 

He slowly regained consciousness, blinking slowly in an attempt to erase the blur taking over his vision. She was humming...something familiar. when at last his vision began to clear his eyes met her deep hazel brown gaze. Her brows were knit together and her pupils dilated. Her eyes were glossed with an emotion he couldn't understand. 

"why does she care so much?" He thought.  

She held him while she knelt on the floor of his flat. She stroked his hair, to comfortably gaze into his icy grey eyes. He felt relief, Her presence brought him a sort of protection from his mind. She didn't move from her position and nor did he. She didn't want to let go in fear as soon as she turned her back he would collapse again. 

After a few more minutes of silence, the blonde spoke up. 

"Sherlock, when was the last time you ate?" She asked, her voice shaking and her grip on their embrace tightening ever so slightly. 

"We had tea...this morning remember?" He mumbles. 

"Sherlock that doesn't count..." She whispers. 

"Oh..." He responds. 

She cuts back a concerned sob before helping him to his feet. She made sure he had his balance before leading him to his chair. She helped him ease into a sitting position before standing up, wrapping her long cardigan around her and stepping towards the kitchen. 

"What are you doing?" He asks through shallow breaths. 

the blonde stops for a moment, biting the inside of her lip. 

"Making you breakfast."