Theme Prompt - Comfort

It was happening again. Sherlock knew it was a nightmare, he’d had it before. And in his five years of life, it was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever experienced. The fact that he couldn’t do anything to wake himself up or change the nightmare only made it that much worse. He still didn’t quite know where the nightmare came from or why it was so scary. To be honest, when he was awake, the whole thing seemed a little silly. Telling Mycroft was completely out of the question, as was telling Mummy. If Sherlock couldn’t articulate to himself why the nightmare was so scary at night then how could he expect either of them to take it seriously?

In the nightmare, Sherlock sat at the dining room table with Mycroft and Mummy. A meal was spread out across the table and Mycroft was explaining something to Mummy. Sherlock didn’t particularly care what it was; he was busy concentrating on the food in front of him. It was his favorite meal and tales of Mycroft’s classmates were boring. The nightmare always started out this way, something innocuous and normal. But as Sherlock lifted his fork to his mouth for the next bite, everything started changing. The light in the room darkened until Mycroft and Mummy were shadows and the rest of the room was completely black. Sherlock watched as the food on his fork decayed and turned into worms and bugs. Whimpering softly, Sherlock dropped his fork on the table and scooted back, terrified eyes locked onto his brother and mother.

They were still talking as if nothing was happening, Mycroft laughing as he continued to relate stories. The part of Sherlock that knew this was a nightmare was amused at his dream-Mycroft. Even in dreams, Mycroft had to dominate every conversation. Sherlock often wondered, when he was awake, if Mycroft would go into politics or something of the sort because he loved to talk so much. Slowly, they started fading away even as they talked and ate the decayed food on their plates. Soon, Sherlock could see patches of the chair through Mycroft and Mummy. He whimpered quietly again, knowing that he was soon going to be alone. They were going to disappear and leave him in the dark. The fading went faster as more of their bodies disappeared and soon Sherlock was left sitting alone at the table. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to wake himself up.

The darkness started creeping in from the walls and taking over the chairs. Pulling his legs up onto the seat and wrapping his arms around them, Sherlock watched and hoped that it wouldn’t touch him. The darkness hadn’t touched him in previous nightmares but it kept coming closer and closer. He didn’t know what was going to happen when the darkness touched him, but Sherlock knew it couldn’t be good. It ate up the chairs and rolled along the table, moving inexorably closer. Right before the darkness reached the edge of the table closest to him, Sherlock opened his mouth and let out an ear-piercing scream. He felt his shoulders being shaken and screamed again before opening his eyes.

“Sherlock, are you all right?” Mycroft asked, his eyes wide with worry. He stopped shaking Sherlock’s shoulders when Sherlock stopped screaming. “You were thrashing around.”

“Mycroft, don’t disappear!” Sherlock exclaimed, lunging towards Mycroft and burrowing into the comfort his older brother offered. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist and held on tightly. “I don’t want to be left alone. You and Mummy disappeared.”

“It’s okay, Sherlock, I’m still here and so’s Mummy,” Mycroft soothed Sherlock, rubbing a hand over his little brother’s back. “It was just a nightmare.”

“The darkness gets closer, it’s almost touching me,” Sherlock continued, unable to stop the babbling that was coming out of his mouth. The nightmare still had its hold on him, here in the middle of the night. Mycroft hadn’t even turned on the light when he came in, he’d just left Sherlock’s door open. A sliver of warm yellow light from the hallway speared towards Sherlock’s bed but didn’t touch either boy. “It’s gonna take me, Mycroft, and I’ll be gone.”

“There’s no darkness coming after you here,” Mycroft murmured, rocking slightly. It had calmed Sherlock down when he was a baby and wouldn’t stop crying. Mycroft had been the only one who could get him to stop crying then. “You’re safe and I’m right here.”

Sherlock felt tears running down his face and couldn’t do anything to stop it. Nor did he particularly care right now. He was terrified and he was only five years old. There was only so much maturity Sherlock could muster, even with his genius mind. Still craving the comfort Mycroft offered, Sherlock sat up from his awkward position and crawled into Mycroft’s lap. Mycroft rocked him until the tears stopped and Sherlock’s tight grip on his shirt eased.

“There now, you feeling a little better?” Mycroft asked softly, brushing a lock of hair off Sherlock’s forehead.

“A little bit,” Sherlock admitted, sniffling and lifting his head from where he’d tucked it against Mycroft’s shoulder. “I hate that nightmare. It comes a few times a week.”

“What happens?” Mycroft asked curiously. “Maybe if you tell me about it, it won’t scare you as much.”

“It’s stupid, Mycroft. I don’t even know why it scares me,” Sherlock replied dismissively though he shuddered at the thought of it. “It doesn’t make any sense and that’s why I’ve never said anything.”

“Just tell me, Sherlock. Trust me, it won’t be as scary once you tell me,” Mycroft insisted gently. He laughed when Sherlock slanted an angry glance up at him and gave Sherlock a patient look. With a sigh, Sherlock rubbed his hand over his face and nodded.

“Fine, it starts out normal,” Sherlock grumbled, staring at the spear of light from the hallway. “You, Mummy, and I are having dinner. While we’re eating, the food starts decaying and it turns into bugs and stuff. Then, you and Mummy start fading away. The darkness eats you and then it comes for me.”

“You said it’s getting closer to you?” Mycroft asked, remembering what Sherlock had said while he was terrified. “What do you mean?”

“Every time I have the nightmare, the darkness makes it closer to me,” Sherlock explained, shuddering again at the thought. “This time, it reached the edge of the table before I woke up. I’m afraid it’ll eat me too.”

“It won’t eat you,” Mycroft told Sherlock firmly, squeezing him tighter in a hug for a few moments before letting go. “Tell you what, darkness can’t survive where there’s light. Why don’t I get you a night light. That way, next time you have the nightmare, you can remember the night light and the light will get rid of the darkness.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” Sherlock said, giving Mycroft a tremulous smile. He finally felt calmer, calm enough to go back to sleep. He saw that he still had a few hours before dawn by looking at the red numerals of his clock. Sherlock hugged Mycroft back and then settled back down on his bed. Mycroft stood and pulled the blankets up over Sherlock’s shoulders. Giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder, Mycroft smiled and let himself out of the room. He left the door open just enough so that the light from the hallway fell across the floor. Once he was back in his own room, Mycroft stayed awake about another half hour to make sure Sherlock wasn’t going to start screaming again.

The next morning, Mycroft got his old night light out of the back of his dresser and plugged it in the socket near Sherlock’s bed. He and Sherlock shared a smile then went down for breakfast. That night, Sherlock had the nightmare again. As the darkness flowed towards him, Sherlock remembered the night light Mycroft had plugged in. It appeared in his dream and the darkness fled from it. That was the last night Sherlock had that specific nightmare and he never had to worry about the darkness again.