"What are you-" John paused as he entered 221c. Since I got my check from my last mission, plus a couple extra thousand for the mix up with the sniper, I decided to stop sleeping on that stupid sofa and get my own room. I had been working on it all day, being as how Sherlock ran off somewhere and John was at work. The walls were now a deep purple, ceiling fixed and white. A nice sized bed against the wall under the window and a sofa and table in front of the fire place.

"What do you think?" I asked him as he walked in and looked around.

"Uhh, not bad. Got paid then?" He asked as he walked up to me, eyeing my arm in the sling and the crutches against the wall.

"Yup. Decided to get this room. Mrs. Hudson gave me a deal." I grinned and he rolled his eyes.

"Alright you. Up those stairs. You need to eat and rest." He said, ushering me out of my room. As we made it up stairs, John went into the kitchen and I froze in the living room. I missed it at first, but sitting on top of Sherlock's head was a small kitten. It looked up at me with blue eyes, it's fur all black, blending into Sherlock's mop of black hair.

"Sherlock…: I asked and he continued to read his book. He was laying down on the couch, only in some sweat pants, and a T-shirt.

"What?" He asked, and I had to hold back a laugh as the tiny thing yawned.

"Why is there a kitten on your head?" I asked and he looked at me as if I were stupid.

"That woman came by saying she found my 'mothers' kitten." he said with a glare and I laughed.

"What's going on?" John asked as he came in with a bowl of soup.

"We have a cat now!" I said walking over and taking it out of Sherlock's hair, it purring an nuzzling it's head against my neck.

"It's a boy." Sherlock said, uninterested as he went back to reading.

I picked it up and looked at it, it staring back at me. "Kristofferson." I said and it meowed, making me smile.

"Dull." Sherlock muttered and I hit his head, making him glare up at me.

"No one asked you grumpy." I said as I put Kristofferson back on Sherlock's mop of hair.

"Alright, come on and sit down. I have to get back to work." John said as Sherlock continued to glare at me. I walked over to the armchair and John gave me the soup. "Now stop moving around!" He ordered them turned to Sherlock. "And you no cases! You both need time to heal!"

Sherlock huffed and turned a page in the book. "I haven't moved an inch all day. It's your sister that keeps making such annoy noises all day!" he picked at me and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I had to get my room set up! You've been hogging the couch all day and this arm chair makes me even more sore!" I snapped back at him and he only smiled, continuing reading.

"Right. Well, just stay here. I'll be back home around one-ish." With that he swept out of the room and we were doused in silence. Well, that was until Sherlock decided to speak.

"I have a query that I have been mulling on for quite some time now." He stated randomly, and I just continued to eat my soup. "I have come upon the answer that it is never definitive, and the answer more or less reflects on the thinking patterns of the persons answer." He continued. "So, why is a raven like a writing desk?" He asked and I snorted some.

"Because Poe wrote on both" I said easily and continued to eat. When there was a silence, I looked over to see Sherlock staring at me. "What?" I asked with a glare.

"How did you come up with that?" He asked and I shrugged, taking another spoonful of soup.

"It's the only logical answer." I muttered.

"How?" He asked and I sighed.

"Well, I knew the writer of Alice in Wonderland love Edgar Allen Poe. And Poe wrote on a writing desk, and wrote a poem called 'The Raven'." He just stared at me and I at him, he then smirked and went back to reading, making my brows come together but not say anything. I then proceeded to wash my dish up, ignoring the finger in the drain, and turn the TV on, watching it bored.

"Can you turn that crap off?" Sherlock growled, where my only response was taking my head off my hand and flicking him off, continuing looking at the TV. "Don't promise something you can't commit to." He growled and that got me out of my daze as I snapped my head to him. He only was looking at the book, pouting some.

"You're just pissed because now you don't get to annoy me in the mornings." I said and looked back to the TV, only to be surprised at what he said next.

"What are you going to do about your nightmares?" He asked easily, not noticing me staring at him. He just flipped a page in his book and sniffed some.

"Ho- I haven't had them in awhile…" I muttered and he scuffed, rolling his eyes.

"You've had them everyday since we've gotten back from our vacation." He said, looking to me. "You scream and talk in your sleep, then pop up in the middle of the night, terrified." I just stared at him as he went back to his book. "I have to stay by you until you go back to sleep or else you just sit there like a whimpering cat." He deadpanned, and I sat back, staring blankly at the TV.

"No I don't." I tried and he only scuffed again, not speaking for the rest of the night.

*Sherlock's POV*

"What are you still doing up?" John patronized as he came in a little after one, putting his jacket up and rubbing his baggy eyes.

"I got my seven hours this week." I replied back, tuning my violin as I was stilled laid out on the couch, Kristofferson asleep in my hair.

He groaned and waved his hand, obviously not wanting to 'deal with me' as he says. "Goodnight." And left up to his room. As the hours went on I played without thought, my thoughts taking over as boredom kicked in. As I glanced to the clock, I saw it was three in the morning, and that upset me for some reason. I sighed and put my instrument down, taking the cat off my head as I sat up for the first time in well over a day. Kris meowed and I let him down, watching for a bit as he stumble as he tried to walk. I then sighed and ran my hands through my messy hair, looking at the door. With another sigh I stood and walked down to 221c, hearing Kris feebly follow after me with his tiny legs and body. I stopped at the door, listening. I could hear here breathing hard. I opened the door and walked in, to see her staring terrified at the wall. So, apparently after our conversation in the evening, she doesn't remember doing this every night. It's not unheard of, but I would be a lair if I said it didn't affect me. For some reason, it hurt him some that she didn't remember all the times he just sat with her as she cried into his side.

He walked over and stared down at her, watching as she still seemed to be awake, yet asleep. I sat on the edge next to her, and on cue she wrapped her arms around me and began to cry. I've done this enough now to know that just rubbing her back and not saying anything makes her feel better and let's her go back to sleep. So, that's what I did, glancing down at Kris who was pouting because he couldn't get up to us. After awhile she fell asleep against me as normal, and I stood, placing her gently back onto the bed, covering her and walking out, Kris following behind as I closed the door. As I went back to the living room and onto the couch, I could only snarl one thing to myself. "Pathetic."