Sherlock was first up, full of energy as always. He smiled at his niece and sat opposite her, warming himself by the fire. Mycroft wasn’t too far behind him.
B: “Just had to. Stayed in the shade a lot. Or inside. Father didn’t like it much. He wanted me to command the fields one day, to watch the overseer…”
He couldn’t finish, shuddering at the memory of the cruelty.
Esme flinched slightly when he yelled (essentially right in her face), but she quickly gathered herself and pushed him back towards the bed without hurting him.
"Shut up and eat something. The more you cooperate, the quicker you'll be out of here again."
Esme's primary occupation over the following weeks was taking care of him and nursing him back to health, giving Sherlock the time to focus on doing the same with his brother.
She also spent time writing on her article and occasionally hosting her editor for tea to discuss >
S: “Need more meds. MYCROFT - WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY MEDS?!”
He yelled, not seeing the man in the doorway.
“Quiet, brother. I’m here, and it isn’t time yet.”
S: “I care not for food… Nor do I wish to stay here…”
He tried to sit up with a groan of pain and fumbled to find the painkillers - not realising Mycroft had them.
Esme had wandered downstairs to get an early hot chocolate with cinnamon, then wanted to sit in the living room and start the fire in the fireplace. She gazed around the room, her smile getting wider the longer she took it all in.