I've been looking for this for ages but haven't found it. So I'm gonna do it myself. Inspired by this post:


I think it's unlikely that the writers will address this issue any further (I mean come on - John almost burned to death and resumed going on adventures on the next day!). So I'll have a go.

While writing this, I'll do some more research on PTSD (you know, beyond Wikipedia).

The story is set after "The Empty Hearse" and will most likely ignore the other episodes of series 3.

Will wait with the next chap until tomorrow just in case that tonight's ep will contain some useful material.

He was hunted. Hunted by very stupid, very cruel men. They were going to get him. He would suffer even more.

In the end, they got him. They hit him and whipped him without showing any mercy. His sleep-deprived brain was aware of a familiar voice. John? Sherlock lost consciousness several times and everytime he was roughly shaken or slapped he hoped it'd be John.

But the voice wasn't John. It took him almost a week to figure out who he was. He was quite embarrassed that it took him, Sherlock Holmes, the clever Detective with the funny hat, one week to figure out his own brother's voice. But then again if he hadn't been starved and thirsty and so terribly tired and if he hadn't been floating in a world of pain, misery and utter humiliation, he might have had a better chance.

On the flight back home, he slept for the first time in what felt like years. The nightmares were terrible and felt too to be dreams. He awoke screaming and cried for half an hour straight with Mycroft trying to awkwardly soothe him. They'd both pretend it never happened.

Back in London, everything was familiar yet so different. He was different.

Mycroft actually expected a thank you after watching him going through hell and had the nerve to complain about all the inconveniences he had gone through. For the first time in ages, Sherlock felt a very strong rage boiling inside him. He couldn't understand what's happening. All his carefully built walls seemed to crumble down in very mundane situations. It was weird.

He refused the doctors to take a proper look at his scarred back and only allowed them to bandage it so all the still seeping wounds wouldn't ruin his shirt.

He tried to go back to being the cold, clever detective. He put on his coat in a desperate attempt to put all this in the past. But he couldn't escape the images in his head however hard he tried.

When he entered that restaurant and saw John, he felt almost whole again. He saw that person whose voice had kept him sane in the last two years whenever he had an unpleasant or painful experience. John's playful banter and occasional compliments had been guiding him going trough hell and back. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

After John's obvious blindness, Sherlock was slightly hurt but appreciated the opportunity to work out an even more genuis way to reveal himself. That was until he saw Mary. John was obviously gonna propose to Mary (Justlookathissleevesandtheboxinfrontofhimandthewayhedrankhiswineandhisshoesandthemostobvousthingofcoursethewayhestyledhishair!), it was as if his whole world was about to break down. The only person he'd survived all that terror for (and this is by far not all about the incident in Serbia) was about to promise to spend their life with that woman.

Determined to stop that, he'd just intervened. After that, He may or not may have been slightly carried away by his unlimited joy to see John again so that he'd said some insensitive things considering his best friend had just discovered that the last two years had been a lie.

Now, he was lying on the ground in agony. His back was giving him hell and he was absolutely sure that at least three wounds had reopened (additionally to the still not closed ones that really, really hurt) but the worst thing about the situation was the sharp pain in his very soul. He was not welcome anymore.

The next day, he decided to give Molly a try. His emotions were still too stubborn to let him contain them and he still heard John's voice in that terrible room that looked too similar to that bloody cell these apes had imprisoned and tortured him in. He was so scared but John gave him the strength to hide that.


Consider this a prequel; the next chapters won't be that introspection-y and contain some action and other characters' thoughts. Just bear with me!

Sooo, Please leave a review and before I forget it:

This is Fanfiction. None of the characters are mine because if they were you wouldn't read this on a Fanfiction site but watch it on BBC one!

Moffat's the boss