The flat downstairs was silent, neither John, nor Sherlock dared to disturb me after I stormed out earlier.

"Good riddance.." I mumbled, staring out the rain soaked window. London's weather today was unsurprisingly dreary, as always. I turned off the television and draped a soft burgundy blanket over me, drifting lazily to the kitchen, fixing myself a cuppa tea. 

"Yoohoo!" Mrs.Hudson chimed, knocking on the door softly. I looked at her and smiled softly.

"Good evening!" I poured an extra cuppa tea for her as well. She smiled and sat at the table.

"Why thank you dear!" Her cheery features never ceased to brighten the room. I sat across from her, my burgundy blanket still draped sloppily over my shoulders. Her eyes shifted across the flat nervously, before they landed on my somber self. "Oh Y/N, you should talk to Sherlock." She sighed. My expression quickly changed from warmth to annoyance.

"I think we've spoken enough, have we not?" I muttered, before taking a long sip of tea.

"I heard you two fighting, I'm sure Sherlock was just sputtering out loud-"

"Sherlock doesn't 'sputter out loud'.." I shot her a dark look, part of me felt bad for being so harsh with Mrs.Hudson, the other part was conjuring all the hellish anger I had held in for years.

"I suppose he doesn't." Mrs.Hudson sighed. An urge came on.

(TRIGGER WARNING (SELF-HARM) DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU ARE BOTHERED BY THIS)

"I think I'm going to take a shower." I murmured, rising from the table, leaving my unfinished tea at the table. 

"Okay dear..." She spoke sadly, before standing and turning towards the door. I walked slowly into the bathroom, slipping out of my clothing and locking the door. I pulled my razor off the shelf and turned on the hot water. I began. 

When I finished I cleaned the blood off my legs, hip, torso, and wrists, before cleaning them with disinfectant and wrapping as many as I could with gauze. I pulled on a pair of pajamas, and trudged off to bed.

       Morning came, and the flat was silent. I rose from my bed and got changed into my work clothes, nothing fashionable, a plain turtleneck and jeans. I brushed my teeth and walked to the bakery. I spent the whole day making bread, cookies, and since summer was coming soon, I made lemonades with little umbrellas in them, and sold them at the cash. I sighed, wiping my apron clean of egg and flour in the back before examining an order of donuts that I had just finished.

"Those would be mine." I turned to see Mycroft, Sherlock's brother standing at the cash. Though I didn't know much about Mycroft, I wasn't particularly fond of him.

"Ah yes, Mycroft Holmes!" I smiled a fake cheery smile and brought the donuts to him. He paid before looking me up and down, his expression turned even more grim when he landed on my wrists. I froze realizing the sleeve had come up a bit, quickly I pulled it back down and turned grabbing a lemonade from behind me.

"T-take a fr-free lem-lemonade." I whispered, before walking briskly into the kitchen area. I could feel Mycroft watch me, before turning and exiting. I washed my hands anxiously and cleaned the kitchen. It was almost 6pm. My phone buzzed,

Can I speak to you when you get home?  - SH

I froze, shaking I replied with a joke.

You mean when I get HOLMES ;)  -Y/N

He didn't reply.

Sighing, I grabbed my coat and exited the shop, locking the front door. I turned and slowly made my way back to the flat, where Sherlock was standing outside the door.

"What do you want..?" I tried to sound more confident than I was, and failed miserably, my voice was quivering like a leaf in a storm.

"Come with me." His voice was monotone, as he strutted down the stairs and to a taxi. I followed. The drive was completely silent, the only sound was the car and my heart speeding in my chest. With every sign and traffic light I grew more tense, I had no idea where we were going. The car pulled off at a vacant park, with a singular pond, and a large weeping willow. Sherlock swiftly got out of the car and made his way to the bench under the willow. I pursued. For a moment everything was silent.

"Y/N, let me see your arms." Sherlock was the one to break the silence. I was shaking harder than ever, as I slowly raised my arms to his opened hand. His grip was soft and gentle. Delicately he rolled up the sleeve, and stared down at the scars and cuts.

"Mycroft told you." I whispered grimly. His eyes rose to my own, to my surprise they were soft.

"Yes, but why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you do this to your own body?" He restated himself, keeping his grip on my wrists. I didn't notice the tears falling from my eyes.

"It.. makes my pain feel.. controllable.." My eyes blurred with tears.

"Then let someone else help you control it, Y/N, I saw it, but I didn't want to see it, I could never imagine a wonderful person like yourself harming your own body in such a way." He whispered, using his thumb to wipe the tears away.

"But now you see I am broken.. I am broken, Holmes.." I whimpered, my chest felt like it was constricted, as I tried to hold back the tears. He leaned forward and slowly wrapped his arms around me.

"I cannot fix you, that is something I can help with but not do, I will help you Y/N." Sherlock murmured softly.

"Th-thank you..." I cried, wrapping my arms around his neck. It was nice to know Sherlock was there for me, he would be one of the few, but I was still angry with him for earlier.

But for now..

I'm glad he's here, under the willow with me.