summary: you haven’t been at school all week, you haven’t been answering texts. eventually, the boys decided that they’re not going to wait for you to reply anymore, and take matters into their own hands.
a/n: yoo so sorry for the angsty thing, i was planning on putting up some starboy laurens fluff but ive been having a pretty bad day meself so. wrote some angst cuz it made me feel better. if you’re having a bad day i hope it helps and i hope u feel good tomorrow!
You had spent the week in bed. Your work was beginning to
pile up – in both a metaphorical and literal sense, you thought as you looked
at the pile of papers on your desk – and you probably got more texts in the
past five days than you’ve gotten in the past year. Everyone was worried about
you. Just today, Alexander had left you 3 voicemails and he sent you 51 messages in the span of 6
sent you 2 pictures of Lafayette and Hercules playing checkers, and then one of
himself pouting because, as he put it, he ‘wanted to see you’; Lafayette sent
you a video of himself singing some French song that was supposed to be a
lullaby but it didn’t really help; Hercules sent you a picture of himself in a
Nothing cheered you up. You hadn’t had this bad of a spell in years, but lately
things had gotten worse and couldn’t bring yourself to do anything. You just couldn’t.
I know you’re an Army doctor, and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. You’ve got a brother worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help, because you don’t approve of him, possibly because he’s an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife, and I know your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I’m afraid. That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think? The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.