Chapter Text
It is a windy, sunlit day in April.
The sea glitters so brightly that Sherlock has to narrow his eyes just to make out the horizon.
Behind him, the pebbled shore shifts softly beneath approaching footsteps.
Careful footsteps.
Familiar ones.
A few more steps, and out of the corner of his eye he sees his mother's long, white, fluttering skirt.
When he glances back over his shoulder, she is just closing her lace parasol, brushing a few dark curls away from her face with a soft smile.
She kneels before him, so they are eye level.
Her eyes, usually grey, had turned pale ocean blue beneath the seaside sky.
One of his earliest observations had been that her eyes seemed to change colour with their surroundings.
And every single time, it fascinated him anew.
“Mon Cœur,” she says softly, pulling him from his silent admiration.
“What are you doing here? I have missed you so much.”
She draws him into a gentle embrace.
He breathes in the scent of fresh white flowers.
Light, warm, familiar.
Everything is quiet and peaceful.
And for one fleeting moment, he believes he could remain here forever.
But then -
"You shouldn't be here," she whispers.
Slowly, she pulls away from him.
"Not yet."
Her fingers brush tenderly against his cheek.
At first, he does not understand.
Then it strikes him. Suddenly, he remembers.
Brighton.
Their last Easter holidays together.
And in the autumn of that very year, she had died... leaving him alone in the fog-shrouded Yorkshire.
For a moment, it feels as though the ground beneath him gives way.
His chest tightens painfully, as though the air itself has been stolen from his lungs.
Tears gather in his eyes…heavy and unstoppable.
Though he is currently unconscious, a part of his mind already recognizes that this can only be a dream.
And yet, he clings to her desperately.
His small hands grasp tightly at the fabric of her skirt.
“You can’t leave me again— I…”
His voice falters against the painful knot in his throat.
“…I’m so alone…” he sobs quietly.
She tilts her head slightly, a tender warmth in her gaze as she looks at him.
“No, my darling,” she says softly.
“You are not nearly as alone in this world as you believe.”
The wind begins to rise.
The scent of rain lingers in the air.
The sea darkens.
“He needs you.”
A thought forces its way into his consciousness.
Sharp, inescapable.
He knows that name.
Far too well.
The waves turn black.
"Go," she says firmly.
A piercing pain tears through his skull.
He reaches toward the sea.
“Liam!!”
With a sharp breath, Sherlock opens his eyes.
His heart skips a beat as he stares up at the white ceiling above him.