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Home- BBC Watson x Reader Chpt. 3

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It’s a Start

I was right about Mrs. Hudson being a catalyst of sorts between me and (F/n). We came home from the train station to the sound of music coming from the flat just as it always did when Sherlock was around. I recognized the tune, it was one he played often, and Mrs. Hudson tells me that it was a sort of link between them, a duet that they wrote together, and that Sherlock played it when he was missing her.

There’s still so much I never knew about him.

I was so angry at first, hearing it brought back so many memories and the pain is still so fresh, but as soon as I saw her in the window with the violin in hand… it was like seeing a ghost. Her posture and movements looked so much like his- even her physical features seem to mirror his. All except for the tears.

Considering what I now know about the tune, she was probably just trying to feel close to him again. I know how that feels. I also learned that she plays the piano and we have since moved the piano from the flat downstairs back up to, what Mrs. Hudson assures me is, its rightful place in 221B. I have yet to hear her play but if it’s anything like Sherlock with the violin it will be beautiful.

We spoke briefly after Mrs. Hudson left, just getting to know each other a little. She was a commando tactician, discharged after she was shot in the shoulder just like I thought. I didn’t get much else out of her but she asked me little things like where I was from, how long I’d been here, what kinds of books I liked, how long I’d served, things like that… I got the feeling she already knew the answers and was just trying to avoid me asking about her past and Sherlock. Not that I minded- anything is better than the silence from before.

After a bit she excused herself saying she was tired but offered to cook dinner if I’d like, to which I agreed and offered to go to the shop, and then she disappeared back into his room. It wasn’t much, I’ll admit that, but it was something. Hopefully the start of something more- a friendship maybe.


Dinner never happened due to a visit from Mycroft. You’d only just emerged from Sherlock’s room again when he waltzed through the door and announced, “I need you to look in to something.”

John just sort of gaped and you shook your head, staring at your elder brother for a moment and then walking over to press your forehead to his tie. He sighed and wrapped his arms around you before resting his head on top of yours, “You need to get on with your life (F/n). He’s gone. It wasn’t your fault and you can’t change it.”

Your voice came out quiet and small, “How can I My? Every moment of my life he was there- he taught me how to walk, held me when I cried, kept all my secrets, balanced the inner workings of my mind with his- He was my twin. How can I just get on with it? Everything feels so wrong without him.”

“I know my, dear. I know,” he said, running his fingers comfortingly through your hair. You pushed him away, turning from him, “No you don’t. You can’t know. It’s like my heart has a gaping hole that nothing can ever fill and I can’t think, my mind is a giant cloud of fog with no actual thoughts- just a never ending and engulfing grey. Nothing will ever be right again.”

It was quiet for a moment as Mycroft and John just stared at you, stunned by the outburst, and you suddenly chuckled, “Did you know that the life expectancy of a remaining twin drops considerably after the loss of the other? Something about the severe emotional stress that comes with the grief of losing someone you are highly genetically and socially linked to. I always wondered, tried to imagine, what that might be like- to be so distraught that you could actually shorten your life span. Now I know… And trust me when I say, I would have been better off bleeding out in some dirty hole in the ground under the Afghan sun then coming home and having to live with this.”

You didn’t give either of them a chance to answer as you turned to glare at Mycroft, “So no. I will not look into whatever it is.”

The door to Sherlock’s room slammed shut a moment later and Mycroft just stared at the empty space in front of him, an uncharacteristically sorrowful look on his face, until John broke the silence, “You didn’t tell me they were twins. It explains her behavior.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him, looking for an explanation, and John sighed, “It is believed that twins are deeply connected and that the grief of one twin over the loss of the other is so intense that they can lose their appetite and fall into a state of despair so deep that it is difficult for them to interact with anyone outside of themselves- among other things.”

He sank down in Sherlock’s chair across from John with a heavy sigh, “Maybe I should take her home to the Holmes estate. Mother is terribly worried… as am I. I thought maybe being here would give her something familiar to hold on to but it would seem it doesn’t really matter.”

John shook his head, “I think it does. Give her time and space. Putting her back with your parents, who are more likely than not going to fret over her, is only going to make her pull further into herself.”

“I suppose you are right... Thank you for keeping an eye on her. I’m afraid I have to go but I’ll leave you the case file, maybe she’ll come around.” Mycroft sighed, standing and pressing the folder into John’s hands before leaving.

A Missing Twin

They were twins.

I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. She looks just like him but for some reason I assumed it was just family resemblance. No wonder she’s so broken up. They’d been in each other’s lives from the very beginning- from the womb. She said that the life expectancy of the living twin when one dies drops drastically and it got me thinking about other phenomenons that occur with twins, so I looked it up.

Twins can have their own language and start bonding- like playing and interacting- in the womb, fairly early in the pregnancy. It is also widely believed that twins can have a telepathic link and sense the other’s thoughts and actions even over great distances. I wonder what they were like together. It’s hard to imagine Sherlock being that close with anybody but it seems like they would have been… Maybe that was why he needed me on cases, to fill in for her while she was gone.

Mycroft wants to take her home to her parents but honestly I don’t think that would help. She doesn’t want to see anyone right now and I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon. Living without him is going to be quite an adjustment for her. Not to mention all the bad press floating around concerning him… it must hurt her so much to see him thought of that way.
Shit got intense up in here... I feel kinda bad for John getting stuck with all this but eh... what can you do.

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Inugirl115's avatar
If I actuially lost my twin I think I would die