“Can you whisper?”, asks John Watson hoarsely and the anger, he held back until now, finally overhelms Greg. “NOT REALLY!” He screams directly into John’s tired face and the shorter man flinches. Greg watches grimly how John tumbles through the door and then turns to Sherlock.
Sherlock doesn’t lay on the narrow bed anymore.
Instead, he crouches on the floor, with his back to Greg and both hands over his face, rocking forth and back. Greg can hear him whimper quietly.
He stares at Sherlock in
unbelief. Suddenly John, who came back because no one followed him, says “Sherlock!” beside him in a very concerned tone.
Sherlock doesn’t react. He continues to whimper and rock.
“What’s wrong with him?” Greg asks confused and worried.
“I don’t know,” John answers and the tiredness in his voice has disappeared. “Looks like a panic attack.”
He slowly approaches Sherlock and says quietly: “Sherlock, can you hear me? What’s wrong? You’re alright?”
Sherlock doesn’t seem to notice him. But when John carefully reached out a hand to him, he suddenly starts to stumble incoherent
words. “Please, no, don’t, please don’t, stop…”
John frowns and kneels slowly in front of Sherlock.
“Sherlock, it’s me, it’s John. Everything’s alright. Can you look at me?” After a few seconds, Sherlock slowly takes his hands off his face and blinks at John. Greg swallows when he sees the tears in Sherlock’s wide open eyes. ”John,” Sherlock whispers barely audible. “John? ”Yes, it’s me,” John says with a encouraging smile. “You see? I’m here. Now we get you on the bed again, yeah?” He reaches out a hand to Sherlock, who just looks at it for a moment. Then he sniffs and hesitantly takes it. “Good,” John says again and helps Sherlock on his feet. “Very good.” He leads Sherlock to the bed and the detective sinks down on it. “So, can you tell me what happened?” John asks after he sat down next to Sherlock. Sherlock stares at him with a very confused look for a moment. Then he swallows and says barely audible: “The … The shouting …” “Shouting?” John asks frowning. “What shouting?” “They … didn’t let me sleep. They woke me up … with shouting. Every time … Every time I fell asleep …” “They?” “The … men in Serbia. Who tortured me.”
For a moment there is a shocked silence in the cell.
Then John coughs and says with a choked voice: “Ok. Alright. You don’t have to talk about this, now … How about we get you home and you sleep for a while? Until you feel better?” “Yes …,” Sherlock murmurs and looks down. John leads him out the cell and throws a shocked look at Greg, who swallows and follows them to the entrance of the station.
“Don’t blame yourself,” John says quietly to Greg outside Sherlock’s room. The detective fell asleep after only a few minutes. “You didn’t know. I didn’t know. Jesus.” “He said he was tortured, John. Tortured. God. Why?” “Don’t know. We … haven’t really talked about his time away,” John answeres and he feels a stab of guilt. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want to scare him,” Greg says and looks down. “Again. You didn’t know it, Greg. I’m going to try to talk to him about it when he’s awake.” Greg nods. “Good luck with it.” “Thank you.”
Greg leaves and John sits down in the kitchen after he called Mary and told her that he will stay at Baker Street for a while. He waits for Sherlock to wake up. And he asks himself, what horrible and traumatic things Sherlock experienced there in Serbia. And everything for their protection …