Sherlock watches from the window.
Persi walked down the unseasonably cold and grim Baker Street.
Heels clipping the uneven path of the pavement.
Hair falling accross her face, freeing from the pins.
Dress dirty from the fall.
Black lines dripped across her cheeks.
Bloody grazes on her arms and legs.
The black car pulls up.
She steps inside.
"Persi. I told not to go to him"
She looks towards the man.
This was her final day.
AN: I'm a sucker for short openings :)
