Chapter 5

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When John awoke, there was sunlight streaming through the window and he blinked in shock. Had he slept for so long? He stretched out his tired limbs and slowly emerged from bed. He felt hungry which was a good sign, he noted. He silently opened the door and wasn't prepared for the sight he saw.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, his hands wrapped in his hair, clutching so hard it looked like if he let go then clumps would fall out. His face was slightly rosy, and dripping in tears. His breathing was ragged and he was shaking uncontrollably. But the worst part was that his mouth was turned into a complete grimace of agony. He turned and looked at John and he felt like there weren't enough words in the human language to describe Sherlock's expression. His eyes sang out ballads, full of water, his face pleading. So, vulnerable. Like he let go of everything. More tears started to fall. " John." He whispered in a broken mumble.

John walked over to him. Sherlock noticed, he looked absolutely broken. His face was searching for what was wrong but John would never know unless he told him.

" Sherlock." John's voice cracked. He had never seen Sherlock so shaken. " What happened while I was asleep?"

Sherlock covered his face with both of his hands.

" My parents are dead."

...

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