My name is Dr. Emery Anya Watson, and I am Dr. John Watson's sister. I lived with my family for almost 13 years before I graduated college at almost 14. After I had left college, I got into the Scotland Yard when I was 20. After a few months, I met someone and started dating them. He was really nice at first, but then things took a turn for the worse.
After a while, things between us got...difficult. I had been working late more often, and they didn't like that. Eventually, that resulted in an abusive relationship. It got worse each week. Six months later, here we are. He has beat me to near death because I hadn't told him that I was going out with a friend, and didn't get back til the day after. I am currently chained to the wall, most of my ribs broken, bruises all over my torso, legs, face, arms, and back. He then chains me to two hook-like stakes in the concrete floor and uses a whip for what seems like hours and I black out.
Two days later, I woke up, still chained to the wall. I looked around, noticing that I had been moved from his basement to somewhere else. There was dried blood all over me, a medium-sized pool of my blood beneath me, and I saw a small blood trail coming from the door from when I was dragged in here. I closed my eyes for a second and then heard a door open. I looked up to see a man, not my abusive boyfriend, but someone else. His face was in the shadows, so I couldn't get a complete deduction.
"Why hello there, Emery." I heard a man say in an Irish accent. I didn't speak, and glared in his direction. He explained nearly everything, telling me that I had some information that he needed and that he would get it out of me, no matter what, but didn't give me his name. Finally, right as he was about to leave, I spoke.
"Who...are...you?" I growl.
"Oh, did I not say? Silly me." he said. He was in the light just enough that I can see him smile sadistically. "Moriarty."
That was three months ago. One day, I heard sirens in the midst of some more torture to try to get information out. The door bursted open a few minutes later, and Moriarty escaped. I was covered in bruises and cuts, and my face was stained with tears. Dried blood caked my skin, fresh blood spilling from some of my freshest cuts. My clothes were almost completely torn.
"EMERY?" I hear a voice yell.
I look up to see my brother and the infamous Sherlock Holmes. I pull on the chains, unable to talk because of the gag that Moriarty put on me. John runs over and takes the gag out of my mouth. The cuffs on the chains are soon unlocked and I throw my arms around John, ignoring the pain and crying into his shoulder. He carries me out of the building and to an ambulance. I am placed on a stretcher and taken to the nearest hospital.
After a few hours of surgery, I'm put in recovery. The only people I've seen are doctors and nurses, and it's driving me insane. Finally,a nurse tells me that I can see visitors, I sigh in relief. John runs into the room and I smile.
"Thank God John. I'm going insane." I whisper, smiling as he carefully hugs me.
Soon, I am released from the hospital, John takes me to his and Sherlock's flat, considering I don't feel comfortable in the one that my ex and I shared.
"John, may I stay with you guys? I...I don't really feel comfortable in my old one…" I ask my brother as we get out of the cab at 221B Baker Street.
"What's wrong with it?" he asks me and I sigh.
"I was...in an abusive relationship…" I say. John stops and turns to look at me.
"What? Why didn't you tell me?" he asks me calmly.
"I couldn't...he said if I told anyone, it would be worse…" I explain, tearing up at the memory. John hugs me and I hug him back as I hold back the tears and take in a deep breath. John opens the door and lets me in first. I see an older lady walk up to us.
"John! Your back. Who is this?" she asks.
"Mrs. Hudson, this is my sister, Emery. Emery, this is the landlady, Mrs. Hudson." he says. He asks Mrs. Hudson, "Is it alright if she stays here?"
"Yes, of course!" she replies. I smile at her.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. It was wonderful to meet you." I say as John and I head up the stairs. It takes me a few minutes, still being in a bit of pain from my surgery.
I hear a violin playing as I walk into the flat. I see Sherlock Holmes staring out of the window, playing the string instrument. I slowly walk over and sit in the red chair. As John sits in the black leather one. Sherlock suddenly stops playing and sets down his instrument. He begins to rant on and on about a new case, but stops when he finally sees me. He narrows his eyes a slight bit and I can tell that he's deducing me. I do the same and he finishes a few seconds before I do.
"Hello, you must be Sherlock." I say. He nods, and rants on about his deduction. I'm impressed, and it shows.
"...Is that correct?" he finishes.
"Quite impressive Sherlock. And yes, that was correct." I say, then launch into my own deduction. I see Sherlock smile a bit, and I smirk a small bit when I finish.
"...Am I correct" I ask him. He nods.
"Very well done. I'm surprised we haven't met before." Sherlock replies.
A year and a half later, who would've thought someone like Sherlock and I to be dating someone, especially each other. We've been together for almost a year, and in that time, I've learned to play the violin and the piano. Sherlock taught me the violin, and I learned the piano on my own.
Lestrade just came in and told us about a case dealing with a triple homicide and a kidnapping. We call a cab and follow him to the crime scene. When we arrive, I recognize the place. Suddenly, horrible images flashed in my mind. Memories of what happened over a year ago. The crime scene was in the building across the street from the flat I used to live in...when I was abused.
Next thing I know, I'm kneeling on the ground with Sherlock and John next to me. I take in a deep breath and stand up. I feel a wetness on my cheeks, and wipe them with the sleeve of my jacket. I brush off my clothes and shake off the memories, and bravely walk into the building after Lestrade. Sherlock and I look at the bodies and after a few minutes, we give our deductions, which are practically identical.
We leave the crime scene as we both agree on the same thing mentally. You see, he and I have some way of communicating mentally, just by glancing at one another. We run out and hail a taxi and both climb in.
A while later, we arrive back at Baker Street and not too long after, as Sherlock is playing the violin and I am playing the piano, John runs in and rolls his eyes at us.
"You two are ridiculous." John says, a small smile on his face.
"Thank you dear brother of mine." I say, playing a bit of one of my favorite classic songs. I soon get lost in the music and elaborate on the piece and add my own things into the song. When I finish, I hear two sets of clapping. I look up to see Sherlock looking at me in surprise.
"I've never heard you play that before. Did you just come up with that?" Sherlock asks me. I shake my head.
"No, it's a song called "Can't Help Falling in Love", specifically the most recent cover of a famous A Cappella group called Pentatonix." I tell him.
"Hmh, interesting." Sherlock says. I stare off at the smiley face that is still painted on the wall, getting lost in thought as my mind drifts off to my mind palace. I wander around, and I end up in the place I hid away my memories of those three months of absolutely horrible torture that bastard Moriarty put me through. I decide to look through them, absentmindedly.
Suddenly, I'm being shaken. I mentally slap myself and look around to see Sherlock in front of me, looking concerned. He sighs in relief and hugs me. I hug him back with a confused look.
"What happened?" I ask.
"You zoned out for a really long time and then started crying, so I tried to snap you out of it." Sherlock tells me. I realize the wetness on my cheeks and wipe away the tears, and look up at Sherlock. I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face into his chest. I feel his arms wrap around me, and I instantly feel more relaxed. We stay like that for a while, and then I remember something.
"Sherlock! What's the date today?" I ask him quickly.
"November the 18th." he replies.
"Yeah, and what is in three days?"
"The 21st." Sherlock says.
"No dip Sherlock. But it's our anniversary!" I say excitedly.
Three days later, I wake up and sit straight up. I look at the clock and it reads 9:34 AM. I get out of bed and pick out an outfit; black skinny jeans, a mint green shirt with shoulder openings, and black heels. It's one of Sherlock's favorite outfits on me. I finish getting ready and when I walk out I see Sherlock standing by the window, looking out of it. I clear my throat and he looks over at me and smiles. He is dressed very nicely, and has on his coat and scarf.
"Emery, dear, grab your coat, scarf, and gloves, we're going out to celebrate and to take a day off!" Sherlock tells me with a kiss. I smile and grab my things, and follow Sherlock out to the sidewalk. He calls a taxi and we climb in. He hands a slip of paper to the cabbie and we drive off.
When we arrive at the place, Sherlock climbs out of the taxi and runs over and helps me out. I follow him into a nice restaurant and we sit and have brunch. Soon enough, we have eaten and paid for out food, and we get another taxi to take us back to Baker Street. When we walk in, it is eerily silent. My eyebrows furrow for a second, suspicious as I follow Sherlock to the flat. He waits for me and I open the door to find the flat somewhat decorated. I see a "Happy Anniversary" cake sitting on an empty place on my desk. I smile and my eyes fill with tears as I turn to Sherlock. He looks at me lovingly and takes both of my hands in his.
"I have loved you since the moment John introduced us when you first came to live here. Since that moment, I have felt more confident than ever when we solve a case, and after a few weeks of no cases, I realized that I didn't need a case to keep me from being bored. You filled that spot. And, alongside that, you have helped me many times, whether it be for cases or not. So, Emery Anya Watson," Sherlock says. He gets down on one knee, pulling out a box and opening it. "Can I have the honor to call you my bride?"
I feel tears running down my face as I quickly nod my head in agreement. Sherlock stands up and puts the engagement ring on my hand and then kisses me. We kiss for a while, and when we pull apart, I realize the clapping and cheers of the other people I hadn't noticed at first. I look around to see John, Mrs, Hudson, Lestrade, and some of my friends from the when I was in Uni and Scotland Yard. I smile as I hug Sherlock once again, and then everyone engulfs the two of us in a group hug. I couldn't be any happier. I'm living with my new fiance, my brother, and I'm surrounded by the people I love. Even after all the pain I suffered through, I have a life I wouldn't trade for anything.