Never Coming Home

Chapter I | Silently Broken

Sherlock looked around the dance floor, trying to find Janine. When he didn't his smiled faltered as she pointed to the man he had picked out for her, a bright smile on her face even though she was still holding his boutonnière. Sighing, the brunette backed away and looked around. He gave up on thinking about finding someone to dance with. Silently he wandered up on the stage and placed the sheet music to John and Mary's waltz into the envelope, before slipping away to find his coat.

Sherlock slipped away unseen, everyone was too busy dancing and smiling to even notice that the best man had vanished from the party. He wasn't good at parties anyways. Straddling his motorcycle, the brunette took one more look over at the building, listening to the music play loudly. People laughing and cheering.

At that moment he felt something inside him start to tear in two. A feeling he hadn't gotten since his father died. Swallowing hard, he sat there thinking before placing his helmet on his head.

He had grown a heart only to have it broken.

Learned to love, only to be forgotten.

Gained a best friend, only to be replaced.

There was nowhere for such things in his mind. What use was a heart only to have it shattered in a million pieces every time he got close to someone. It wasn't worth it to him.

You made a vow to keep them safe Sherlock.

"Shut the bloody hell up. Of course I'll keep it… but I just… I can't be here," He mumbled and stood up, slamming his foot on the kick start and listening as the bike roared to life

I don't belong here.

He revved the throttle and started to pull out of the lot.

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When the song stopped Mary looked around, gently patting at John's chest. "I'm going to dance with Sherlock." She turned to John, who smiled at her and nodded, surveying the crowd. His face fell a little when he didn't see him though. "Maybe he went out for a smoke or something."

"I think he left John."

The doctor turned and looked over at Molly, who had walked up behind him. He furrowed his brows a little and opened his mouth to say something, but Mary beat him to it. "What do you mean he left?" The brunette woman nodded and pointed up to where Sherlock had been playing. "He went up there and put the sheet music away and walked out the door. I thought maybe he was going for a smoke or something as well, but it's about ten minutes."

Suddenly John was jerked away from Molly, being pulled out the door by Mary as she looked around the parking lot for Sherlock's motorcycle, only to hear the rev and watch him turn out of the drive. She frowned and turned to John who was watching silently.

"John. All that work we did making sure he was okay with this and he still-…"

The blond shook his head and tried to smile. "I'm sure he's fine. Probably just too many people for him." He reasoned as he pulled his hand away from her and turned around to go back in, only to be stopped with a sudden jerk. "John… he didn't say goodbye." The doctor froze and looked back at her, then where the motorcycle had turned to leave the drive. "I'm sure he's okay. Come on. Back to the party." He said with a smile, tugging her hand as she looked back once more where Sherlock had gone.

Once back inside she went to her phone and sent a quick message, since John was playing it off.

To: Sherlock

You didn't say goodbye twat.

XO

Mary.

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Pulling up to Mycroft's home he sighed. Killing the engine before pushing open the gate to his brother's yard. He closed it behind him and walked up the long driveway, stopping to lean over his bike and pull off the helmet before digging in his pockets for the keys. Sherlock quietly walked up the stairs to the front door, finally finding his keys and tugging them out the brunette held them in his right hand and aimed for the key hole. He cursed softly as his hand shook so much he dropped them. Sherlock took a step back and frowned, putting his hands out in front of him and watching as his right one shook.

Intermittent tremor.

PTSD.

"Shut up, that's stupid. Me with PTSD? Pfft." He scoffed it off and leaned down to snatch the keys up, using his left hand this time to push them into the lock and open it. He stopped when he felt his pocket buzzing at him. Furrowing his brows Sherlock reached inside and pulled out the phone, looking over the message that made him smile a little.

To: Mary

Sorry, wasn't feeling well. Too much to drink. Can't handle a lot after the stag. Goodnight.

SH

It was late already. Past midnight. Since Mycroft decided it was a wonderful idea to live out in the middle of nowhere, it took him forever to get here. But finally he was able to enter the house with a soft sigh as he pushed the door shut as quietly as he could. He just hoped his nosey older brother would stay asleep.

Don't get involved.

I don't get involved.

Yes, unless it has to do with me, then you're right in it.

He thought to himself, rolling his eyes at the thought. Pulling off his dress shoes and coat, Sherlock made his way to the living room. He was glad Mycroft had decided against a dog, although considering the somewhat lax security, maybe he should rethink that decision. But for now it was okay with him. Sitting down on the oversized couch he sighed a little and rubbed his face with his hand. He could still feel his right hand trembling. He hated it. He didn't want to think that there was something wrong with him. He had thought there was something wrong with him all his life. He spent years, reading through books trying desperately to find something.

But he never did.

And now there was something.

He didn't like not knowing.

Sherlock loosened his tie until he was able to pull it off and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it over to the chair next to him. The brunette yawned and sat there, bare chested and staring into the darkness. When his mind when blank, he undid the button and zipper on his pants before turning into the couch and pulling the blanket over him.

Closing his eyes he didn't even realize he was crying. He didn't even realize it, totally lost to the confines of sleep.

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Sherlock woke the next morning to the sound of papers shuffling and coffee cups clinking on the table. He blinked his eyes and turned to see his brother sitting in the chair near him. "Mycroft… how long have you been there? What time is it?" He pushed himself up from the chair and shoved a hand through his wild hair. "A little after 10, I've been up since seven. I just let you sleep but there's coffee in the kitchen if you want some." The brunette looked over at his brother and did as he was told, padding into the kitchen for some coffee. Just pouring it was a hassle. His hand was still shaking and it made him a little nervous to be honest.

After collecting himself and his coffee, Sherlock went back to the living room. "You don't mind that I stayed here last night do you?" He asked as he moved to sit back down on the couch, watching as Mycroft shook his head. "No, that's why you have a set of keys brother dear." He hummed looking over at him, flashing a smile at the Sherlock returned before reaching for his coffee, trying to steady his right hand, but of course the all too observant older Holmes brother caught it. Dropping his paper in his lap, he moved to sit up a little bit. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" The brunette quickly placed his cup down and pulled his hands back and started to wring them. "I…" Swallowing hard he stared at his hand for a moment before looking back up at his brother. "I don't know. It's been shaking since yesterday." Mycroft lifted himself from his chair and walked over to his brother, who scooted down the couch to make room for him as he took his hand, feeling the tremor before looking up at Sherlock. "Sherlock, I'm worried about you. What else has been going on?"

He frowned and shrugged a little. "I heard John's voice once when he wasn't there." Sherlock swallowed and shifted on the seat looking down at his shaking hand. "I think you need to talk to someone. About what happened, about what is happening. Are you—you didn't go back on drug did you?" He asked with a serious face as Sherlock held out both his arms and looked at him firmly. "Not of my own accord. If you would have intervened a little sooner I wouldn't be…" He frowned a little and brought his arms back to his chest, wrapping them around him.

"Broken."