Falling Stars and Cigarettes

A Lot Like Pride

"Sorry," she muttered, blushing in embarrassment. He sighed and shook his head.

"You couldn't help it." he told her matter of factly.

"No but still," she sighed.

"Still nothing. No point in apologizing for something you couldn't control. It's a natural part of humanity, perfectly normal." he stated. She laid her head on the headboard and closed her eyes, her eyes slowly stopped leaking.

"You should go do whatever it was you were doing before I woke up the entire freaking neighborhood." she said.

"You want to be left alone?" he asked, incredulous. She looked over at him and shrugged.

"I- I'm fine." she said, looking at her lap.

"Don't lie to me, you're rather awful at it." he said. She let out a few stray tears.

"Come on then, let's get you some cocoa." he said, standing and holding his hand out to her. She looked at him, suspicion in her eyes, but took it. He helped her up and didn't pull away when she didn't let go of his hand and led her into the kitchen. She slowly clambered up onto the counter, letting her legs hang off the side as Sherlock put a kettle on.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No." she answered definitely, shaking her head. He accepted this rather gratefully and continued to work in the silence.

Her tears had ended at some point but started again a few moments later. Clearly her mind was going ramped. Sherlock had always hated phrases that spoke about the heart in terms of feelings. Feelings were a matter of the brain, not the heart. That being said, it broke his heart to watch his daughter silently cry. He had been told once by someone that silent crying from your children was the worst and he found the sentimentality ridiculous, but now he understood. He could tell how much pain she was in and it hurt to watch that.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you, Sibley." he said.

"You'll try. It might happen, don't make absolutes, it will make for misplaced guilt in the future should something happen." she said. She sounded so much like him. He eyed her but didn't reply as he continued on making her beverage. He poured the hot liquid into the mug and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and slid off the counter, moving into the sitting room and easing herself into the sofa. John was sitting in his chair, sipping on tea.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" she asked.

"No worries love, I wasn't sleeping very well anyways," he said, giving her a soft smile. She just nodded, drawing into herself as she drank. Sherlock sat in his chair and watched her carefully. She was rigid and shaking. What could she possibly have dreamt of that still stuck with her long after it was over?

Eventually John went back to bed but the Holmes' stayed in the room, Sherlock getting back to work and Sibley reading a book. Every once in a while Sherlock would look over at her and he kept seeing her begin to doze off but then sit upright again. She was terrified to go back to sleep. He imagined most of her nightmares contained the cabbie or the possibility of what could had happened had Moriarty caught her. She didn't exactly have time for him to scare the hell out of her. Then again, she probably saw what he did and what he was capable of while she was there. Knowing that the same man was now her enemy probably did horrify her.

It was late though and Sibley had been extra emotional as of late. As a growing teenager with lots of emotional things going on, she really needed to sleep. It was the healthiest option for her. With these thoughts, Sherlock closed his lap top and turned.