House arrest was the worst. Of course, Sibley didn't exactly have a choice, Moriarty was out there, probably livid, and she was in danger. Due to this impending doom that seemed to now follow her everywhere she went, she was stuck in the walls of 221 Baker Street. Sometimes she would get bored and go hang out with Mrs. Hudson or go to 221C and work on fixing it up. People had come by recently to clean up the mold and such so it was now safe for her to make it her own space. Still, though, she was insanely bored, being stuck inside was not her idea of a good time. She needed to do something. Be productive. She was insanely ahead on school work, finally picking up on things and the fact that it was online and she could go at her own pace. What didn't help was that she couldn't sleep the hours away either. Whenever she did manage to get some shuteye, she had nightmares and would quickly wake up, sweaty and shaking.
However, she wouldn't dare try and leave the flat. She wasn't the best at following authority and typically being cooped up meant she would just sneak out and do what she wanted, but that wasn't an option. Moriarty terrified her to her core. After coming down from the anger at Sherlock and lust for Amber, she truly began to realize the weight of everything. She had slept in the same home as a psychopath. It was awful.
Some nights, her terrors held a cabbie, killing her before she could be found. Others held Moriarty and Sebastian and all sorts of horrors. She regretted the bright idea to do more research on Moriarty and his crimes because it only fed her brain more ammo to torture her with in her sleep. James Moriarty was freaking crazy. He was also heartless. Sibley knew that if he found her, she wouldn't make it. She would suffer and nothing would hold him back. He lacked the humanity to care about what happened to her. Her father had even told her that everything he did was to rid his boredom. He came up with insanely creative ways to murder and torture people because he was bored. It sent shivers down her spine.
One particular night, one that happened to be worse than others, she couldn't control herself. Typically, she just woke up crying, quiet enough that the residents of the flat slept through her misery, but not this night. This night, she could feel the pain inflicted on her in her mind. She could see her captors laughing and watching her with black, hollow eyes. And Moriarty.....
This dream was enough to send her into a frenzy. She screamed, kicking and turning in her sleep.
Sherlock had been downstairs, eyes scanning his laptop screen as he worked to find a way to take down Moriarty. Just knowing where they were staying wasn't enough. Moriarty was too powerful with too much influence and not enough evidence piled up against him for anything. Besides, he would never make it so easy for himself to be captured. He needed to figure out Moriarty's game and soon. He could tell Sibley was getting more antsy every day and he knew she got her restlessness from him, her being bored for too long wasn't going to end well. Plus watching her suffer and lounge around, horrified to be alone lest Moriarty take her, was too much for him. As he was working, he heard her scream, loud and terrified. He jumped from his chair and sprinted to her room. John was out of his own room within seconds, hot on his flatmates heels.
Sherlock slammed the door open, flipping on the lights, to find the room empty. Sibley was still screaming, but her eyes were closed as she jerked around on the bed. Sherlock barely had a second breath of relief before he ran over to the edge of the bed. John backed out of the room quietly, relieved that she was okay, worried about her fear, and ready to let Sherlock handle it as he went to make tea to calm his adrenaline down so that he could sleep. Sherlock grabbed her and held her into him, not too put out by her thrashing and trying to calmly wake her. She stopped with a jolt, pulling up with a force.
When her eyes opened they were wide and full of terror. She didn't stop her thrashing, now she pulled herself out of Sherlock arms- which he let her knowing she'd come back to reality in a few seconds- and scrambled off the bed and to the back of the wall. He watched her with a raised eyebrow as she looked around. Slowly she began to breathe as she took in her surroundings. She looked at Sherlock and sighed in relief, finally back to real life. Still, her tears didn't subside. She climbed back onto the bed.
"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.
"Sibley, you need to go to sleep." he said. She looked up from her book.
"I-i'm okay." she said. He felt bad. He knew she was frightened of further nightmares and he didn't want that for her either, but she really didn't have any other choice.
"What could I do to help you sleep?" he asked. She smiled slightly at the offer, but it was gone as soon as it came.
"Nothing, I don't think." she muttered. He cringed at the failed grammar but didn't comment on it. Instead he stood up and walked out of the room, after a moment he came back, blanket and pillow in his hands. He tossed them at her and she sighed, but got herself settled on the couch. He flicked off the lights and pulled the chair the clients normally sit on next to the couch. She frowned at the image of his silhouette, confused. He then reached out and began to run his fingers softly through her hair, beginning to soothe her.
"I'm right here, you're safe and you can go to sleep, I won't leave. I'll wake you up if you begin to have another nightmare." he promised. She yawned, nodding under his hand and slowly began to fall asleep.
~~~
Sibley woke up on the couch and true to his word, Sherlock hadn't left, he did move, but only to his arm chair where he himself was fast asleep. John was sitting in his chair in silence but she did catch him smirking at the two of them before going back to his paper. She groaned and stretched out before sitting up, pushing her blanket to the side and walking into the kitchen where she made coffee.
"Dad," she said, voice soft as she nudged him awake, mug of black coffee in her free hand. His eyes shot open and he sat up. He was an extremely light sleeper. She held his coffee out to him and he took it, grunting thank you, which surprised John because when did Sherlock use manners, but whatever. Sibley pulled her computer to her and clicked onto Tumblr, another of the many things she used to pass the time.
Hours later, John was out getting groceries, Sherlock had solved at least three cases from inside the flat, and Sibley was dying of boredom. She huffed, closing her laptop and looked around. She may not have been a genius, but she did have an imagination, there had to be something she could plan up.
After several moments, she came up with nothing, but then her eyes landed on her father's favorite instrument. She looked over at him, then back at the violin.
"Hey, Dad..." she said smiling over at him.
"Yes?" he asked, not looking up from the computer screen.
"Wanna teach me how to play the violin?" she asked. He looked up from the computer instantly, then smiled.
~~~
John walked into the flat, carrying in the groceries that had originally just been sitting in his girlfriends flat as he needed time away from the Holmes and their boredom. He heard the familiar sound of Sherlock playing the violin and smiled. He did enjoy listening to him play, he was rather good at it. This time it wasn't as fluid and clean as Sherlock normally was, but it wasn't too far off.
When he got up the stairs to see that it wasn't Sherlock playing, but Sibley, he was surprised. Sherlock was watching her from his chair with a smile that looked a lot like pride, and she was staring hard at the instrument in her hands as she moved the bow. When she stopped, John clapped.
"Brilliant! Did you just learn that?" he asked. She blushed and nodded.
"Yes. You did mess up a few notes but that was rather good, Sibley," Sherlock praised. She grinned in excitement, wanting nothing but to please her father. John smiled at Sherlock's words, he was slowly learning, it seemed.
"Hold on, you're telling me that in the last nine hours you learned that?" John asked in amazement. She shrugged and nodded, putting the violin back in its case. John was shocked. First, Sibley was using Sherlock's violin, his most prized possession. Second, she learned it insanely quickly, impossibly quickly. Third, Sherlock had complimented her even though she hadn't been perfect. Fourth, Sherlock was proud and showing his pride as he spoke about how well she did.
"That was very quick. Seems she has a knack." he said.
"Yes she does." John sputtered. Sibley was bright red by now, clearly not used to being complimented, but she seemed to be enjoying it all the same.
"Well, now that you're here John, I have an errand to run." with that Sherlock stood and rushed out the door. John and Sibley shared a look and she just shrugged.
~~~
Sherlock came in around an hour later, a violin case in hand. He handed it to her without word and turned to walk into the kitchen to begin an experiment. She watched him, surprised, and then turned back to the case now in her hands. John watched, curious to see what her new instrument looked like. She slowly opened the clasps on the ends of the case and pushed it open. n, inside was a shiny light blue violin, it was beautiful. She pulled it out and held it in her hands.
"Dad..." she said softly. He walked over to the doorframe and leaned on it.
"This is too expensive. We don't have this much money," she muttered.
"I'm a famous detective, we have plenty. Think of it as all the late birthdays and Christmases," he said. She set it back in its case and ran over to hug him.
"Thank you!" she pulled away, "Teach me more?" she asked. He smirked and walked over to his own violin. There, they began playing.