plotting-a-revolution:

heyhithehero:

ibeggedformercytwice:

doublenegativemeansyes:

a christmas day

“they all have gone to the party, bear”

“They all have gone to the party, bear.” Sherlock whispered, staring out of the large window of his room. Unopened presents spread across the floor, neatly organised. The moon shone down on both presents and Sherlock as he stared aimlessly into the garden. “They left me all alone.”

Sherlock stared at the bear as if he was actually replying to him. “They got me all these presents, bear, but I don’t want any of them.” His voice was sad as he tore his glance away from the bear. As if he was crying and refused to let the bear see his tears. “Nobody knew what I really wanted…”

Sherlock walked away from the window and fell onto his bed. The covers surrounding him like a sea. He didn’t bother kicking off his shoes or changing his clothes. Instead he just laid they, holding his bear close to him. “Do you want to hear a secret, bear?”

The bear’s head slowly moved up and down as Sherlock had planned.

“Good. Don’t tell anyone but all I wanted for Christmas was a friend.” Tears collected in his eyes before he quickly wiped them away. He never cried. Not at school when they picked on him for being different. Not when Mycroft stole his bear. Not even when Mummy told him off. This was stupid. “Well, least I have you, bear.”

He crawled under his covers, pulling his bear with him. “I just wish they’d stay with me.”

NO

NO IT’S NOT OKAY. OH GOD I’M CRYING. STOP IT. NOW.