If we've started a thread on a meme and you'd like to continue it here instead of in bakerstreet or wherever, then we can do that here. I'll post headings and links to the specific thread below.
[John never really considered his PTSD to be that big of a deal, which is probably why he'd stopped therapy for it as soon as he conceivably could. It just seemed pointless to sit there in a room with someone who didn't really know him and talk about things like getting shot at or shooting at others or watching men he'd served with die. Yes, it happened. And yes, his brain had given him a psychosomatic limp and put a tremor in his hand, which John considered unfair of it because he was fine really.
He didn't jump at loud noises or flashback when there were fireworks like some of those in his unit did. He could shoot his service weapon with a steady hand and not feel traumatized or remorseful afterwards. He'd seen a man get blown up in front of him, was wrapped in semtex, kidnapped, tied up, handcuffed, and it never really made him panic, or at least not more than your average person would panic in that situation.
But every so often he'd dream. Dangerous dreams of gunfire and dry, desert heat, and faces that seemed to melt and distort in the sun. Everything was too bright and searing to his eyes and it was loud and chaotic and stole the breath from his lungs. And sometimes he'd wake up gasping. He'd jolt awake too fast and bolt from his sheets, covered in sweat and sobbing as whatever it was that panicked him so much receded into his subconscious.
And then there were the few times he didn't wake up fast and found himself in a corner of his bedroom with his gun in his hand, shoulders pressed hard against the wall, his leg buckling in agony, and those were the times that scared him into going back to therapy. It hasn't happened since he moved to Bakerstreet, and John thinks that some part of him must interpret the soft sounds of Sherlock puttering away at his experiments or idly stroking the strings of his violin at night as 'safe'.
He did warn Sherlock when he first moved that he might have night terrors and not to stand too close if he wanted to wake him, but that turned out to be unnecessary. The rare time John has nightmares it only takes a quiet vocalization of his name to come out of it.
[ The problem with night terrors is that Sherlock has no true way of combating them. There are no inclinations that can clue him in on the fact that John's subconscious has decided to be needlessly cruel to him until that fact is suddenly upon him, and he's left to try and calm the situation down before it escalates. Usually, saying his name will pull him back to his senses and remind him that he's at home, safe in his flat and alone save for his flatmate as opposed to locked in the desert sun alongside the men he'd fought with and failed to save.
The fact that there's no real way to anticipate these attacks means that Sherlock is never entirely prepared for when they happen and although he's researched into the 'correct' way of helping someone with PTSD get through their flashbacks, everything is far too generic (and in some cases blindingly obvious) to really offer any solace. It's a process of trial and error, because the nightmares and subsequent flashbacks aren't necessarily all the same - there are differences between emotion and intent, differences between the correct ways of responding depending on the specific thing that's triggered the response. Sometimes talking helps, other times it only serves to make things worse, sometimes touching is needed and other times it leaves John incredibly tense - there's just no way of knowing until he actively attempts to engage with him.
It's the not knowing that puts Sherlock on edge; never having a specific list of things to do that will definitely help him separate reality away from a flashback - it's a guessing game, and Sherlock does his best to read the signs and cues for what they are. He's careful to monitor how he's coming across, to use open and honest body language in order to further the association of 'safe' and 'home' and sometimes that's enough.
When Sherlock hears a strange, muffled shuffling coming from upstairs as well as the tell-tell signs of John being awake, he places his violin back down onto the chair and moves to investigate, his steps sounding far too loud against the quiet of the flat as he makes his way up to John's room. He hesitates on the other side of the door, ears straining to hear anything without actively forcing his way into his room. ]
...John?
[ He pauses, exercising some rare caution before attempting to move his way into John's room. ]
[The sandstorm is a bad one. Thick enough that the sand eclipses the bright desert sun and makes it look like night time, dark and treacherous, and it's difficult to see anything from the meager shelter of the building John's pressed up against. He's lost his unit. He can hear them, somewhere, muffled by the storm. Someone's calling his name. The soldier he'd been sent out to retrieve maybe. There's enemies hidden somewhere inside the storm too though. John can see the shadowy shape of them flicker out of the corner of his eye and it makes him tighten the grip on his gun.
He wishes he had his combat knife instead, preferring to move undetected if he needed to make a kill.
It doesn't matter though because the soldier - Archie. Sitrep said Corporal "Archie" Bensen, and he's only 22, little more than a kid really - is calling to him from behind the wall, giving away their position.]
Shut up and stay put, Archie. I'm coming to you.
[He moves immediately after calling out, rolling through the stinging sand until he's on the opposite end of the wall in case some ambitious insurgent decided to open fire in the general direction of the noise.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
TFLN Meme
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[ ... that. that was too easy. John should not be fooled by Sherlock's shenanigans, for this is most definitely shenanigan-esque. ]
2/2*** whoops
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TFLN Meme
Calm You Down meme
He didn't jump at loud noises or flashback when there were fireworks like some of those in his unit did. He could shoot his service weapon with a steady hand and not feel traumatized or remorseful afterwards. He'd seen a man get blown up in front of him, was wrapped in semtex, kidnapped, tied up, handcuffed, and it never really made him panic, or at least not more than your average person would panic in that situation.
But every so often he'd dream. Dangerous dreams of gunfire and dry, desert heat, and faces that seemed to melt and distort in the sun. Everything was too bright and searing to his eyes and it was loud and chaotic and stole the breath from his lungs. And sometimes he'd wake up gasping. He'd jolt awake too fast and bolt from his sheets, covered in sweat and sobbing as whatever it was that panicked him so much receded into his subconscious.
And then there were the few times he didn't wake up fast and found himself in a corner of his bedroom with his gun in his hand, shoulders pressed hard against the wall, his leg buckling in agony, and those were the times that scared him into going back to therapy. It hasn't happened since he moved to Bakerstreet, and John thinks that some part of him must interpret the soft sounds of Sherlock puttering away at his experiments or idly stroking the strings of his violin at night as 'safe'.
He did warn Sherlock when he first moved that he might have night terrors and not to stand too close if he wanted to wake him, but that turned out to be unnecessary. The rare time John has nightmares it only takes a quiet vocalization of his name to come out of it.
Just not this time.]
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The fact that there's no real way to anticipate these attacks means that Sherlock is never entirely prepared for when they happen and although he's researched into the 'correct' way of helping someone with PTSD get through their flashbacks, everything is far too generic (and in some cases blindingly obvious) to really offer any solace. It's a process of trial and error, because the nightmares and subsequent flashbacks aren't necessarily all the same - there are differences between emotion and intent, differences between the correct ways of responding depending on the specific thing that's triggered the response. Sometimes talking helps, other times it only serves to make things worse, sometimes touching is needed and other times it leaves John incredibly tense - there's just no way of knowing until he actively attempts to engage with him.
It's the not knowing that puts Sherlock on edge; never having a specific list of things to do that will definitely help him separate reality away from a flashback - it's a guessing game, and Sherlock does his best to read the signs and cues for what they are. He's careful to monitor how he's coming across, to use open and honest body language in order to further the association of 'safe' and 'home' and sometimes that's enough.
When Sherlock hears a strange, muffled shuffling coming from upstairs as well as the tell-tell signs of John being awake, he places his violin back down onto the chair and moves to investigate, his steps sounding far too loud against the quiet of the flat as he makes his way up to John's room. He hesitates on the other side of the door, ears straining to hear anything without actively forcing his way into his room. ]
...John?
[ He pauses, exercising some rare caution before attempting to move his way into John's room. ]
Can I come in?
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He wishes he had his combat knife instead, preferring to move undetected if he needed to make a kill.
It doesn't matter though because the soldier - Archie. Sitrep said Corporal "Archie" Bensen, and he's only 22, little more than a kid really - is calling to him from behind the wall, giving away their position.]
Shut up and stay put, Archie. I'm coming to you.
[He moves immediately after calling out, rolling through the stinging sand until he's on the opposite end of the wall in case some ambitious insurgent decided to open fire in the general direction of the noise.]