"Be at The Yellow Cat at 8 -SH".

The woman had been staring at her text from the mystery number for a while now. She had never liked it when that happened.

She took a deep breath and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. She was obviously not going to The Yellow Cat tonight. No way.

But she did have to know who would text her; chances were it was some woman who had given a man a false number to avoid dealing with him in the future; how often had she not done the same? But what if that was not the case?

A quick Google search left her as dumbfounded as when the text had arrived. She found it on a blog.

"Sherlock Holmes" escaped her lips involuntarily.

…

She couldn't explain why; but 7:52 she was at The Yellow Cat and had ordered herself a pint of Guinness. Her foot was tapping on the floor and she had to physically put her hand on her thigh to stop it.

She would know that face anywhere; the curly hair and those cheekbones and lips. But what surprised her were his eyes; they looked straight into hers as soon as he had entered.

"Hello" he said as he took a deep breath; still looking right at her as he sat down without taking off his long dark coat but he did make sure to straighten it so it wouldn't crease too bad; even if it wouldn't show on the fabric.

"Hello" She responded as calmly as she could. Her insides were screaming at her to ask him why on earth she was here.

The silence that followed was actually painful; she knew exactly what he was doing as he sat there in front of her. He already knew everything about her.

"Stay" his words were brief as he left the table and went to the bar. He soon returned with a bowl of water with ice bopping around its cold surface. He put it in front of her and smacked his lips.

"Put your hand in" he gestured towards the bowl. He put his hands together almost like a chess player waiting for his opponent to make the exact move he had calculated a while ago.

She didn't blink as she put her hand in and immediately balled it into a tight fist. He smiled.

"Questions?" he blinked. She was counting her breaths trying to ignore the urge to remove her hand from the painful liquid.

"Too many" she looked back into his eyes.

"Good" he took hold of the wrist on her dry arm; checking her pulse. "Very good" he was trying to hide his excitement.

"Strange man walks into a pub and asks you to perform a painful experiment and you don't ask why". He let go of her wrist and put her hand back on the table. She took a large gulp of her beer.

"I don't mind" She remained cool.

"- The pain you mean" he managed to crack a smile on her lips.

"Why me?" She finally got the question out; perhaps it was the sharp stinging sensation in her hand. "Are you going to interrogate me?" she tapped on the side of the bowl making the water move ever so slightly; washing even colder water over her hand that was fighting to accommodate for the cold.

"No; I wouldn't need to torture you for that" he shook his head.

"Right, and you wouldn't do that here either." She corrected her hair. "You're testing me" her eyes widened ever so slightly.

"3 minutes" he let her know. She registered it but didn't move her hand; it was about to turn numb as soon as the tingling ended. "It's an interview" he wet his pale lips.

"Interview for what?" she winched as all the signals in her body was telling her to get her hand out of the ice and run.

"I need a corpse" his voice was barely a whisper. She wasn't sure if it was the nerves in her hand going numb as a natural response to being submerged in ice water or if her heart might have stopped.

There was no sound coming from her as her pink lips muttered 'What?' as if she hadn't heard him.

"4 minutes 30 seconds. How does your hand feel?". He quizzed her completely ignoring what he just told her before.

"Fine" She wasn't specifically lying; she had no idea if she even had a hand anymore or if she ever had.

He grabbed hold of her wrist again; this time he was much firmer as he felt for her pulse. He seemed to even be listening for it.

"Your pulse should be elevated" he informed her. "Not only are you experiencing piercing pain but your life is at stake. Why are you calm?" he grabbed her wrist even tighter staring straight through her eyes.

"I can control my pulse" she swallowed hard. "I can ignore pain" she felt a slow icy fire start within her.

"You can still feel it" he informed her. "6 minutes".

"Of course" she breathed in trying to quench the fire. She turned mild again. "Why don't you tell me why I ignore it?" she set him a challenge. He sat back and let go of her wrist.

He smiled as he looked her over; he was making sure she noticed what he was doing and where he was looking.

"You taught yourself to endure pain for extended periods of time; a chronic condition. I'd say back and stomach maybe even in a sort of symbiotic relation; your stomach starts and your back follows; and the other way around " he paused to wet his lips with his tongue "No there's more. You were introduced to the pleasure of pain as a young girl and found a whole world of your own in it. It's your escape." He deduced. "It was the one thing you had control over. You have control now; you think you have control because I am exposing you to pain". His eyes narrowed as he looked through her soul.

Her foot had started tapping again.

"And now I burst your bubble." He looked rather pleased. She took her completely paralyzed hand out of the water and squeezed her thigh as hard as she could.

"8 minutes 17 seconds. You are impressive" he had begun sounding like the maddest scientist sitting across from his experimental animal.

"I could have continued" she groaned. Mostly annoyed with herself. "So how are you going to do it? Stab my paralyzed hand? I wouldn't even know you did it". She didn't take her eyes away from his.

"I need a corpse, not a dead girl" he shook his head seemingly disappointed in her lack of intelligence.

He got on his feet and turned the collar up on his coat. "I know you're coming" he winked at her with seriousness on his face.

She did. She wasn't sure why but she did. She had to.