your-loss-would-break-my-heart:
in which kid!Sherlock deals with ptsd and adult!Sherlock talks about his brother
“What living with Mycroft must’ve been like…”, John mumbled after watching him walk out the door.
“Horrible.”, Sherlock said, “It felt like I had three parents. There were times I was more scared of what Mycroft would do than what my mother would do.” John laughed.
“I can’t imagine he was that intimidating.”
Monsters. Monsters.
Sherlock sat on his bed, trying to listen. Any moment now, the monsters would come. They loved to sneak up on him, grab him and make him scream for hours and hours. He knew they were directly underneath him, just lying in wait.
“I’m warning you.”, he said in the scariest voice he could imagine, “I’m a pirate and I have a sword.”
That wasn’t true. His sword lied on the drawer next to the door. But if he jumped, maybe he could reach it, fend the monsters back and run outside. He slowly crawled towards the foot end of his bed. He wouldn’t be able to take a running start thanks to the soft matress, but the edge of the bed would provide enough room for one foot to have a solid stand. If he was able to catapult himself in the air, he would land right in front of his drawer. Almost like ballet, but more life-threatening.
He heard the monsters whisper and jumped, exactly as he was taught. He landed in front of the drawer, grabbed his sword and swung around. The room was empty, but he knew it wouldn’t be empty for long. He slowly backed away, until he could reach the door with one hand. As soon as it opened, he turned his back and ran.










