I Won't Tell Anybody That You Turn the World Around

“I didn’t know you served.” I jumped and spun around at the unexpected voice in the basement.

“Jesus, Sherlock!” His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked in at me from the threshold.

“It explains the recent anxiety and tendency to jump.”

“You didn’t know I served? You?” My incredulous tone matched my expression at this point as he stepped inside of the room and looked around for a brief moment.

“No.” His eyes found mine as I bit my lip and looked towards the floor.

“Not so on top of your game then.” I mumbled towards my feet.

“PTSD then?” My head snapped back up to meet his face. He was studying me, in much the same way he had been studying his experiment upstairs.

“Personal space.” I snapped as he seemed to remember I was a person, not an experiment.

“Listen, I know how your mind works and I know how everything is a wonderful mystery waiting to be solved, but please stop. Don’t say anything you think out loud about me. It doesn’t do anyone a bit of good and I don’t want for her to worry about me.” I could hear a tea kettle whistle from a distance, up the stairs.

“Am I right?” I could have hit him.

“Yes, okay? Yes. I suffer from PTSD and anxiety.” I answered with a harsh tone, hoping he would be satisfied now.

“Why?” I couldn’t stop my angry face from making its appearance. He was walking around the room, finally stopping in the middle.

“What do you mean why? I was at war.”

“Something happened to you.” He looked at me, his head turned slowly as he found my gaze.

“Yeah, I was in war.” I said the sentence slowly, as if he was stupid.

“No, not just the war. Something tragic.” He placed both index fingers to his mouth as he began to really think.

“Will you just-“ I didn’t finish my sentence as he held up a hand to stop me from talking.

“Fine, then. I’ll leave.” I huffed as I walked past him and slammed the door to the room shut. The whole flat shook and I found myself breathing heavily. I began to climb the stairs but stopped and turned to look at the door.

“And don’t go through my things Sherlock!” I stomped up the stairs and entered the second floor living space and sat down roughly on the armchair across from John’s. I crossed my legs and began to bite at the inside of my cheek.

“He can be quite-“ I looked over at John who was searching for the word to describe the man downstairs.

“Abrasive?” I answered for him. He nodded with a slight smile.

“Sorry.” He folded his newspaper up and placed it on the table before stretching.

“You don’t have to apologize for his behavior. Sherlock has been like this for as long as I can remember.” I sat back in the chair, not really knowing why he was bothering me this much. My tolerance of Sherlock was a lot more than other people’s, except for maybe my aunt.

“How did you two meet?” John looked at me and smiled slightly.

“Mutual acquaintance, we were both finding it rather hard to find a flatmate who would put up with either of us.” I could see that being the case for Sherlock, but not the man sitting in front of me right now.

“Hm.” I responded folding my arms across my chest as heavy footsteps were making their way up the stairs.

“Who wants a cuppa?” My aunt called from their kitchen in a cheery tone.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I responded as Sherlock sat down on the couch, still looking at me.

“I’ll have one Ms. Hudson, thanks.” John said as he picked his newspaper back up before he glanced at Sherlock.

“Sherlock?” She asked coming out of the kitchen to look at him.

“No thank you.” His eyes never left me and I was beginning to get annoyed.

“It’s rude to stare.” I found myself in a staring match as I gripped at the arms of the chair.

“You’re staring at me.” He shot back.

“Oh my god.” I muttered as I turned my attention to look at the back of John’s newspaper.

“Here you go, John.” My aunt handed John a steaming mug of tea and then took her own cup to sit down next to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, stop it.” My aunt’s tone was cross as I saw him lean back roughly and fold his arms to match my own, he was like a gigantic child in a man’s body.

“Were you a POW?” My head spun so fast I thought I was going to fall out of my chair.

“What in the hell did I just tell you downstairs?” I shouted at him as John’s paper fell into his lap, my aunt’s horrified expression met my face. Sherlock seemed to realize he had said that question out loud as he guilty looked towards my aunt.

“Well, were you?” My aunt’s tone was now worried, trusting whatever Sherlock had seen in me.

“Auntie, it’s nothing really.” I tried to play this moment off as I simply shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

“Sherlock.” My aunt now turned to Sherlock who was staring at me, once again. His elbows were perfectly balanced on his knees and his chin was resting on top of his fingertips.

“My mistake, Mrs. Hudson. It really is nothing. Layla has always been a hard read.” I heard John begin to cough as he choked on his tea, I turned to make sure he was all right before I turned to look at the dark haired detective.

“Oh. Right then.” My aunt didn’t look any less worried, but took his word for it. He tilted his head slightly to the right before he abruptly got up from the couch and grabbed his violin from behind the chair I was sitting in. A soft melody floated through the air as he stared out of the front window. I sighed heavily and looked at John.

“A hard read?” He looked disbelieving as he glanced at his friend behind me before smiling slightly in my direction.

“Believe it or not he’s said that about me for as long as I have known him.” I took his frustration as hatred when I first met him, but I had been wrong.

“My Layla doesn’t give away much.” I turned with sad eyes to look at my aunt. I was a closed off person and I was sad at the thought that she knew that.

“He doesn’t meet too many people who stump him, I don’t know if that is a gift or a curse.” Her words met my ears and I felt a heavy weight in my chest.

“Please excuse me.” I muttered to the room as I stood up from my chair and made my through the living space and walked down the stairs. I grabbed my jacket, gloves, scarf, and hat and threw them on before stepping out into the crisp, cold air of a winter London day. I had come to my aunt’s for a change of pace, to hopefully move on from my past days living in fear and constantly looking over my shoulder. I was almost looking forward to seeing the infamous Sherlock again, I hadn’t seen him in a few years. I was now, almost, regretting the decision to come and stay at 221B Baker Street.

“You really should pick a different spot to run to when you’re upset.” I felt myself involuntarily cringe at his voice but kept sitting on the bench.

“I don’t remember implying that you could follow me.” He came around into my sight before clasping his hands behind his back and then finally sitting next to me.

“Peter Pan has always been your favorite.” His tone was soft, as if he was trying to say sorry without actually saying he was sorry.

“Very observant, Sherlock.” I was not in the forgiving mood at the moment and he knew it.

“I’ve never asked anything from you, I’ve never wanted anything from you and you just couldn’t listen to me.” My anger was making a comeback, something I had been dealing with since the PTSD had made an appearance.

“Do you like to make her worry?” I turned my angry gaze on him, he was staring straight ahead at the statue that marked my favorite spot in Kensington Gardens.

“No, I don’t.” I blew out a hard breath of air and turned my attention back to the statue.

“I’m actually quite curious as to why you haven’t told anyone about it.”

“Of course you’re curious.” My tone was snippy and I hated it.

“I’ve seemed to have upset you again.” His head had finally turned so he could look at me.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I caught a bit of a grin as he turned his attention away from me again.

“I know it’s not something you can help though.” I sighed as I brought a hand up to my forehead and leaned forward on my knees.

“No, I suppose it isn’t.” My right knee began aching from the cold weather as I leaned back against the bench.

“Do they know you followed me here?” I couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on my face as he looked over at me.

“No, I didn’t really give them an explanation when I walked out the front door.”

“You checking up on me?” I folded my arms across my chest and tried to warm myself up as best I could.

“Mrs. Hudson is already worried, I just didn’t wish to be blamed if something happened to you because I ran you out of the flat.” I nodded my head and looked towards the ground.

“So you were held captive.” It was a statement and it had me rolling my eyes as he turned to look at me.

“Yep.” I was back to my snippy tone and he was back to trying to figure me out.

“But you’re intelligent, I don’t exactly see you being taken-“ He trailed off and I felt myself become surprised.

“I’m sorry, did you just call me intelligent?” His expression was unreadable as his eyes were locked on mine.

“Yes.” He made a face as if to say ‘did you not just hear me?’ I held my hands up in a mock surrender.

“Sorry, that’s just a compliment I wish I could wrap up and give to myself for Christmas.” He looked confused at that sentence but continued to stare at me. There was a loud bang from behind us and before I could comprehend what my body was doing I had grabbed Sherlock and thrown us both down to the concrete. My tiny body trying to shield his gigantic one. My breathing was ragged and labored as my mind wandered down the dark path of my past.

“Layla.” My grip on him loosened at the sound of my name. I pushed myself back until I was sitting on the ground with my knees pulled up to my chest.

“Layla, it was just a car backfiring.” He was on his hands and knees but pushed himself up so he was kneeling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw you down, I’m so sorry.” I managed to stutter out as I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward to meet my knees. I made a noise that sounded like a cross between a cry and an anguished yell. I felt his hand on my forearm as he scooted closer to me. I moved my head to allow my right hand to support it before pressing my middle finger and thumb to my eyebrows.

“If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colors suspended in the darkness;” My head slowly came up from my legs as Sherlock repeated the words from my favorite book in his calm, deep tone. “then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the colors become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire.”

“But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon. This is the nearest you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly moment.” I finished the passage feeling much more at ease than I had a moment ago. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth and I could tell he was surprised at what he had just done.

“Right then, think you can stand?” He pushed himself off of the ground and then extended his hand towards me. I grabbed his hand and accepted his help as he pulled me up so I was standing, I came up to his chest.

“Thank you.” I said quietly as I now avoided his stare.

“You’re welcome.” He spoke just as quietly before taking a step away from me.

“Well I expect Mrs. Hudson has made lunch by now, do you want to head back to the flat?” He made a weird motion with his hand as he asked. I nodded slowly as I followed his lead and we walked towards the road to hail a cab to bring us back to Baker Street.