+19: Shrink - Adam Ant

Request from @KelsaFord

Okay, so, there a few issues and mental health things mentioned here. None of them are really shown, though... If that makes sense.

Anyway: I'm not an expert so if you see something I've got something wrong, let me know.

-

"Good morning, mister, how are you?"

As always, Sherlock giggles as he and the nameless eight year old crossed paths. Sherlock knew he was eight because last week the short, black-haired boy had a badge on that said '8 today' in writing that lit up and flashed.

Every Wednesday Sherlock crossed paths with the boy. As the boy came out of the door marked 'Dr. B. Miller', Sherlock entered it. And each time, the boy repeated the words that Doctor Miller always said first. The mister was only there to make Sherlock feel grown up, even though he was only nine.

The words always made Sherlock laugh. But John said that the boy was trouble and that Sherlock should stay away. John always said that Sherlock didn't know why the boy with black hair was here which always made Sherlock remind John that Sherlock was here because of him, because Sherlock has a condition with a name he can't pronounce. Skit-so-somthing. That always shut John up.

After Sherlock giggles and the black haired boy disappears around the corner, holding the hand of some older black haired woman, Sherlock and John have their usual tiff before Sherlock enters Doctor Miller's office.

Once he's in there, he gets asked all the usual questions.

"Have you taken your medication?"

"No"

"Why not?"

"Because the pills make John leave and I don't want John to go away"

"Is John here?"

"Yes"

"What is he doing?"

"Sitting on the floor, near my feet, and waiting for the session to be over"

"Sherlock, you understand John isn't real, yes?"

"Yes"

"Doesn't that scare you?"

"No"

"Do you understand why you come here?"

"I have a mental disorder. I see John, who isn't real, and according to you I have a split personality. I'm 'not living in reality'"

Then, Doctor Miller will talk to Sherlock about how Sherlock feels the last week has been and try to convince him to take his pills. He never shouts or sounds bored. He always looks concerned and tries his best to be helpful. If Sherlock turns to speak to John then Doctor Miller will sit and wait, despite not seeing John.

At the end of each session, Sherlock gets asked the same question: "Are you going to take your medication?"

His answer is always the same. "No"

Sherlock's life goes the same way for the next three years.

Every Wednesday, he goes to the therapist where he gets asked the same questions as always, which he always gives the same answers to and on the way to see Doctor Miller, Sherlock always has the same conversation with the black haired boy (if saying a few words counted as a conversation).

*

"So, Sherlock, your mother told me it's your birthday today. Happy Birthday. You're thirteen, yes?" Doctor Miller asks with a gentle smile on his face.

Sherlock nods but he's distracted, keeps glancing at the door. John is beside him, watching curiously as his friend seems to work himself up.

"Why do you care?" John asks "It's not like you knew him. He's probably mentally stable enough to stop seeing the Doctor. He probably takes whatever stupid pills they give him"

Sherlock growls and glares at John. "Shut up! Or do you want me to start taking the damn pills?"

John silently shakes his head, looking down at the floor. He didn't want to leave. If Sherlock took the pills, he wouldn't exist anymore.

Doctor Miller frowns, leaning forward in his chair. "Is everything okay, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looks to Doctor Miller, in a panic. He nods slowly before shaking his head. "No. Where's the boy with black hair? The one that usually comes in before me. I usually see him"

Doctor Miller hums for a moment. "He had to leave early today. He had somewhere he needed to be"

Sherlock nods, glad the boy was okay. "And he'll be back next week?"

Doctor Miller nods as a reply this time. Sherlock let's out a small sigh and relaxes into the chair.

John groans "I don't like him, Sherlock! I can just tell he's no good"

Without replying, Sherlock flicks his foot out to kick John but the blonde moves away and sticks his tongue out at Sherlock.

"So, Sherlock, how was your week?"

Just like that, the session returns to it's usual pattern.

*

Sherlock was sitting in the waiting room with John and his mother on the day of his fifteenth birthday when the boy with black hair approaches. Sherlock's mother takes notice but doesn't say a word, knowing that Sherlock would shout at her if she interfered too much - and Sherlock considered nearly all the occasions where see showed concern as interfering.

Blinking slowly, Sherlock frowns at the boy and checks his watch. The boy was out of his appointment early. Sherlock was usually called for in a few minutes and they'd always cross paths as the boy's appointment ended and Sherlock's began.

Before the boy could speak, Sherlock does. "You're out early"

The boy doesn't look surprised. He nods and takes a seat beside Sherlock. John moves from the other side of Sherlock to stand in front of Jim.

"I don't like him" John says.

Sherlock glares at him. "Shut up, John"

The boy looks to the space before him, unaware he was looking directly at Sherlock's closest friend. He didn't looked creeped out like most people his age did, though. He simply looked curious.

"Who's John?"

"He's my friend. Apparently, he's not real" Sherlock shrugs, glancing at the boy.

The boy would be thirteen now, Sherlock knew. He'd turned eight after Sherlock had turned nine. So that meant he'd be thirteen now, soon to be fourteen.

Not seeming fussed over the fact that Sherlock had a friend that he couldn't see, the younger boy offers his hand for Sherlock to shake. Oddly grown up. Sherlock accepts it and shakes.

"I'm Jim - although my mother calls me James when I'm being a pain"

"Sherlock." Sherlock replies, releasing Jim's hand.

"You're the one with Schizophrenia" Jim nods, folding his hands in his lap.

Sherlock frowns. "How do you know that?"

Jim goes on as if he hasn't heard Sherlock, lookin ahead of him towards the reception desk. "And your full name is actually William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You have an older brother, no other siblings. You don't get along with anyone except John and refuse to take your meds."

Fuming now, Sherlock stands and yanks the boy half off his chair. John was cheering him on as his mother approaches, worried.

"How the hell do you know all that?!"

Jim smirks, unfazed by this sudden violence. "I looked through Doctor Miller's files when he was called out the room once."

Relaxing, Sherlock blinks. The anger was fading rapidly. He let's go of Jim and they both sit back on the chairs in the waiting room as if nothing had happened.

Jim points over to a boy around their age sat in the chair across the room. "He has OCD"

"I could tell you that without seeing his file"

"It's supposedly from when he lived with his mother and was treated like Cinderella from the age of four" Jim adds, smiling as he looks at Sherlock from the corner of his eye.

"Oh..."

The speaker in the corner of the room buzzes as it comes to life and a gruff voice calls Sherlock's name.

Standing, Sherlock dusts himself off. He nods to Jim. "Goodbye. I'll see you next week"

Jim nods and waits until Sherlock has walked half way across the room to call "Happy Birthday"

John huffs, muttering about not liking the boy. Sherlock just tells him to stop whining.

*

Jim comes out of his sessions earlier than before every week after that. His session had been shortened, apparently. He'd picked the habit of saying "Good morning, mister, how are you?" again and would come sit with Sherlock for the time before Sherlock's session.

They talked a lot about John and the other children here. Jim told Sherlock all he could remember from the files and Sherlock told Jim his deductions about the other children.

Jim never spoke about his own reason for being here and Sherlock, no matter how he tried, couldn't deduce it.

The time flies and before Sherlock even realises it, he's on his way to Jim's fourteenth birthday party.

Jim didn't have any friends and so he only had a few family members visit along side Sherlock and John. Sherlock had brought Jim a small but professional spy kit for his birthday and Jim had given him a kiss on the cheek when he said thank you before the two of them went into the backgarden and hid from the adults in Jim's old treehouse, talking about various things.

Sherlock had smoked a cigarette and guided Jim through his first smoking experience despite John's complaints. They'd used the spy kit to watch the adults in the kitchen, deciding to not discuss the way Jim's father had kissed Jim's aunt when Jim's mother wasn't looking.

When it was time to part ways again, Jim kissed Sherlock's cheek for the second time before thanking him for coming and giving him the spy kit. He'd also given Sherlock a piece of cake wrapped in kitchen roll even though they both knew Sherlock would throw it away.

When Wednesday came, they went back to their usual routine of discussing the other children. John, as he often did when Jim was around, sulked as he sat against Sherlock's legs. Sherlock would occasionally run his fingers through John's hair, giving him him the attention he wanted and he always found himself smiling a little at the way Jim never thought anything Sherlock did was odd.

Well... Sherlock had never seen him react anyway.

*

Before Jim is fifteen, he stops going to see Doctor Miller. Not that it matters, he and Sherlock are good friends now.

They're often at each other's houses and always spending time together, not one t enjoy the company of others. The only thing Sherlock didn't like about their friendship was the fact John looked to wonder off when Jim was around.

*

"Why don't you take your pills, Sherlock?" Jim asks, his fingers running through Sherlock's hair while his other hand held a cigarette.

The seventeen year old hums, eyes still closed as he lays his head in Jim's lap.

"I don't want John to go away"

Jim pauses to take a drag of his cigarette. "Can John go places without you?"

"He can. Doesn't like to, though. Says it's boring when he has no one to talk to. He doesn't like you so he goes when you come round" Sherlock shrugs, giving a small yawn.

Jim nods, not saying anymore as he looks to the TV across from the red sofa they sat on - well, Sherlock was laying across it.

*

Jim's voice seems to echo in the dark of the room as they both lay in Sherlock's bed, staring up at the cieling. "Do you think we're in love, Sherlock?"

"I'm not sure... I don't really know what love is like"

"You love your mum" Jim tries to point out.

"So do you"

"Only sometimes"

Sherlock's hand slides into Jim's and squeezes. "The love we have for family isn't the same love as you mean, though.. If I did fall in love anyone, it would be you"

"I agree"

"Do you think you love me?"

"Yes, but sometimes I also think that I want to tie a pretty, red ribbon around your neck while you sleep and choke you until your heart stops"

"I wouldn't mind"

"I know" Jim hums before rolling on to his side, his hand slipping away from Sherlock's.

Sherlock rolls the opposite way. "Goodnight"

"Night"

That night, when Jim slides a hand around Sherlock's throat and squeezes, Sherlock doesn't fight. In the morning, he wakes with a sore neck to find Jim gone and John hovering over him with worried eyes.

Sherlock shrugs off John's cautions, as always.

*

They kiss for the first time when Jim turns seventeen. They were sat in Jim's treehouse, sharing a cigarette and flipping through gruesome comic books that consisted of many mutilated, bloody bodies. Then Jim took the one Sherlock was holding and put it to the side before he crawled into Sherlock's lap and kissed him.

He tasted like cigarettes and the chocolate cake Jim's mother made for his birthday.

Sherok hadn't cared. He kissed back until Jim got bored and got off him, returning to the comic without a word.

From then on, kissing became one of the things that they just did. They'd kiss when they parted way and they'd kiss when they first met up and whenever they wanted to in between.

*

When he's twenty years old, Sherlock stops therapy. He just stops going and past a phone call to ask why, Doctor Miller didn't try to get him to go back.

He only went because his parents said they'd kick him out if he didn't.

Now, he's moving in with Jim so it doesn't matter. He doesn't care what happens to him - doesn't care if his 'illness' gets uncontrollable.

He has Jim and he has John. That's all he needs and wants.