Be My Starlight

Family matters

  John and Mycroft sit and laugh at my obvious confusion. He keeps calling me his "little otter,"   Mycroft states something about weasels and calls John a "little hedgehog." They laugh again, making my headache worse. John, noticing my discomfort, suddenly turns serious.

      "Are you okay Sherlock?"

     Mycroft walks over to where we are lying, John below me, and places his hand across my forehead. John shifts to sit up, making sure I am still lying across his lap. My brother sits on the floor beside us, falling back asleep rather quickly. John and I sit together late into the night, talking about everything that has happened recently. He explains the hedgehog/otter/weasel thing to me, I chuckle weakly.

     "How are you feeling Little Otter?"

     "Everything hurts and I feel like I'm going to hurl again."

     He shifts back slightly, smiling down at me.

     "As long as you don't puke on me or Mycroft."

     We both laugh at this, trying to quiet ourselves before we wake Mycroft. John tells me what I said earlier, sending us both into another fit of laughter. I get up slowly, heading for the washroom again. My stomach heaves, but I don't throw up again. I look up as both John and Mycroft walk into the small space, triggering my claustrophobia again. Mycroft backs out when I draw back, but John steps closer.

     "Are you okay?"

     Mycroft lays his hand on John's arm, telling him that I'm claustrophobic.

     "I know."

     John crouches down beside me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I struggle to steady the shaking of my body, trying to stay in control of my mind. John whispers softly in my ear, pressing my head against his chest.

     "You're okay Little Otter. I've got you. Its okay. Calm down, breathe."

     I feel myself begin to calm down, soothed by John's voice and the steady beat of his heart.

     "How is he?"

     "He's doing okay, calming down. I didn't realize how bad his anxiety and claustrophobia where."

     "It gets worse when he's experiencing withdrawal or when he's coming off of a high. You are the only other person I have seen talk him down this well."

     My breathing doesn't even out, though we have been sitting like this for the past twenty minutes. John continues to hold me to his chest, still whispering soothingly in my ear. Eventualy, he picks me up and takes me back to the living room. Mycroft is in the kitchen again, cooking something for breakfast. He calls us to the table, insisting that we both eat something. John starts eating as soon as his plate hits the table, stopping only when he realizes I haven't started eating yet. Mycroft is also eating his breakfast. The smell of food makes me feel sick. Mycroft made eggs and bacon for them and, remembering I'm vegatarian, doesn't add bacon to my plate. I get up slowly, heading into the kitchen. John and Mycroft call after me, I hear a chair scrape against the hardwood.

     "Sherlock, are you okay?"

     I stop to lean against the counter, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket. John places his hand over mine, pinning me to the counter.

     "What's going on Sherlock?"

     I ignore him, pushing his hand away and walking back into the dining room. Mycroft looks up in surprise when I walk past the table, going to the library room in the back of the flat. I slam the door shut, sinking to the ground against it. Someone knocks on the door, pushing it open partway.