Sherlock Preferences

One Shot: Do No Harm

Written for @musical_emo_kitten I hope this is good and I hope you're doing better. I am so sorry for how late this is.

Trigger Warning for mentions of self harm
-----

It had been a long day. Too long. Too loud. Too crowded. Too horrible. Sam walked into the flat, shoulders drooped and head down. He just wanted today to he over. He wanted life to be over.

The flat was empty, as it always seemed to he lately, and sun pierced the windows in a very unpleasant way. For how bright it was, the day seemed bleak.

Sam moved towards the couch, curling up in it with his eyes squeezed shut and arms around himself. A brief though was given to blades hidden where even Sherlock wouldn't think to look. Before they got home...

He wasn't able to finish the thought as suddenly the door to the flat flew open. He started, looking towards Sherlock and John with wide eyes. They were soaking wet.

"What happened?" he asked. Sherlock, his watered down curls making him look like a drowned kitten, didn't answer as he walked towards him room.

"Evidence in the Thames," John said, kicking off his waterlogged shoes. "Only it wasn't evidence. It was trash."

And then he was gone as well. Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He went back to his position on his side, curled up on the couch.

"John, can you make some tea?" Sherlock shouted as he walked back into the room. There was a pause, Sam not even moving to see what was going on. After a few moments, he felt a hand move through his hair.

"Go away," he muttered, eyes closed.

"Sit up," Sherlock insisted.

"Go away, Sherlock."

There was a pause and then Sam felt himself being moved. He opened his eyes as Sherlock curled onto the couch with him, holding him close.

"What happened today?" Sherlock asked. Sam didn't immediately respond and just closed his eyes again.

He could always trust Sherlock to be able to know what he needed. Be it being alone or just being held like this. He felt Sherlock's fingers run through his hair and he relaxed further into his touch.

"Tell me about the case," Sam said quietly. He needed to be talked to, needed to hear Sherlock's voice. He listened as Sherlock's voice wrapped around him, lulling him into a safer state of mind.

"Which leads us to the Thames..." Sherlock said. "I'm sure they'll fish evidence out of it eventually but John and I didn't find anything. I believe he's a bit cross with me."

"The Thames is freezing. I would be too," Sam stated. Sherlock made a hmph sound and Sam laughed a bit. "People will definitely talk."

"People do little else," Sherlock said gently. "What do you think John should call this one? The Drowned Fish?"

"The Fisher King?" Sam offered. Sherlock thought on it.

"Seems as good as any," he finally said. They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, Sherlock twirling blue and black strands of hair between his fingers. "Are you feeling better, darling?"

Sam didn't respond immediately as he thought. He slowly looked up at Sherlock and gave a tired sort of smile.

"Better than I was," came the reply finally. "Thank you, Sherry."

"Anything for you, darling," she said softly. He kissed Sam's head. "I'm here for you always."