The woman stood in the middle of the room chewing the knuckle of her right thumb; her teeth sinking deeper and deeper; surrounding the joint…
She had no idea how long she had been standing there.
Probably for way too long…
The bad habit had started when she wanted to stop her teeth from grinding too hard against each other – an action she could not stop when she did actually manage to sleep, or when she passed out.
Her pinkie finger twitched helplessly.
She had tried to hide the bags under her eyes with makeup but the task proved to become more and more difficult for every day that passed.
Just another day that melted into the miserable cesspool that was her lonely life.
"That is not going to help the callous skin from forming on your knuckle. You know how vain you can be about things like that".
Instantly her sharpened teeth dropped her thumb.
Was that a ghost? The sound of a ghost that should have been long gone…
"I never did understand that" the voice continued "All your scars; you never hide those from the world… but you can't handle people seeing the rings under your eyes or thickened skin on your thumb" The voice became increasingly obnoxious to her.
Oh she really thought she had laid that ghost to rest a long while ago!
"You!" she greeted him with an unwelcome snarl.
"Yes" his curly head came into view now. This did not help her shivering; in fact it had the opposite effect.
"I hope you washed your hands before you started gnawing at your knuckle. I do also know how you feel about germs" The devil continued speaking to her.
Had she not been rendered frozen by being confronted by him so suddenly she would have rolled her eyes at him; perhaps she had even come back with a catty remark.
"Wh-why are y-you he-here" She managed to voice. Her old stutter was showing its ugly face.
She tried hard not to bite her lip though she wanted to. She knew what he could deduce from her slightest movement.
And he seemed to be in that particular mood…
Why could she not stay strong this time?
"Just paying a visit to a very old friend" he gave her his best forced smile. It made him show his teeth; which always had reminded her of a dog… giving a final warning before he pounced.
"No" she coughed and tried to poise herself. "No. Don't do that. That's not it" It took tremendous strength for her to supress the stutter again now that it had surfaced.
She straightened her body as much as she could.
"What happened?" she tried to turn the tables; buying herself some dignity.
"You changed your lipstick a shade. They did not discontinue your favourite brand and you're a creature of habit. OCD in fact. Is that a deliberate change on your part? Are you trying to accommodate for your ghostly pale complexion? Who are you trying to impress?"
Oh shut up.
Her eyes zoomed in on the man. He always did that… he always tried to get clever… he always changed the subject when she turned the spotlight on him.
"I haven't seen you in years" she pretended to overhear his observation.
"I have seen you" her blood turned to ice in her veins. It physically hurt.
"Sherlock. What happened this time?" she took a step towards him.
His eyes shuffled and she noticed him uncomfortably straightening himself.
Two could play his game!
"Don't" he warned her.
"You are compensating… again" she looked into his eyes.
He breathed through his nose; she had managed to hit the nail on the head and he did not appreciate it.
"Don't" he repeated. She took a step closer.
"I thought you were doing well… I thought at least one of us had a chance…"
He stood stoic. Frozen. Ashamed?
"I thought your… friend… was helping you keep occupied" she rolled her eyes.
Her face changed; a bit of colour returned to her ashen cheeks.
She had won the control.
Now she could be the smart-ass.
"Don't" he repeated once more. It seemed to be the only word he could muster.
There was a tremor in his voice.
In an instant she had turned him from a demonic ghost into a broken little boy.
… and it broke her heart.
"Sherlock?" she gasped. It was always difficult to see him weak. He was Mr Smart-ass, always having a comeback remark…
Was he about to cry? Him!? She hadn't seen him cry since… since… oh when? They were just young ones then.
She felt the urge to wrap her arms tightly around his lean form; press his head down against her chest and gently rock him back and forth while her fingers tangled in his curls... Just like she had done those nights so many years ago. Trying her best to comfort him…
Though, she had always been younger than him… but with him there was a strange form of maternal instinct that got switched on when she saw him like that… weakened. She could not stop herself from feeling protective over him.
"You shouldn't be here… not in that state… it's not good… you… Sherlock, no" Her heart shattered into a million pieces as a single teardrop rolled down his alabaster cheek.
As much as she hated him, she loved him. She cared… and she would never stop. Silly heart.
"Do you still have it?" his face darkened, he donned a faux strength; she saw right through it though.
She could not stop her teeth from digging into her cracked bottom lip this time. She saw right through his façade but it scared her all the same.
"Sherlock, no" she whimpered as a tear rolled down her own cheek.
"Do, you, have, it?" he pressed on, emphasising each word; as if he assumed she had not understood him the first time.
The knuckles on his hands turned white as they balled into fists. He was obviously trying to control his temper.
"Please, don't do this" she begged. Her wet eyes seemed to grow; perhaps in a subconscious attempt at persuading him to listen to her. "What about M-Mycroft?" The stutter made a reappearance.
She braced herself for the outburst the mention of that name would cause.
The loudest sigh of exasperation came from him. His eyes rolled and he seemed like a dragon about to spit out fire. And she was right in the firing line.
"Give it to me" He was done playing 'nice'. As nice as he could pretend to be.
He had lost the last of his patience.
"You don't have to do it" she reminded him. She could barely breathe. Her fingers twitched and her skin crawled. She suspected the same thing was happening to him…
"You're a sore advocate of sobriety!" he snapped cruelly.
The woman jumped.
Her eyes narrowed… but she knew this was not him talking… it was his need.
- That was what she convinced herself of. It made it easier to bear when he treated her like crap. Her of all people…
"I know!" she replied. "But unlike me you have made a life for yourself. Don't spoil it now!" To her own surprised her voice raised and she tried to school him. "Besides, you're an idiot for leaving your kit with a fucked up crack whore" She barked.
It was a cheap trick, insulting his intelligence.
In truth, it was in her pocket. She would never dream of using or selling his gear; no matter how desperate she had been. It was the last of him she owned…
"Last time I checked you didn't do crack" he growled. Was that all he had to say? "Oh. You've been touch with daddy have you?" his eyes narrowed in on her.
"Shut up" Her eyes burned into his. He had taken a step too far. This was low. Even for him!
He physically closed his mouth before more horrible words spilled.
She swallowed the hard lump in her throat that was about to choke her.
Fuck you. Holmes. Fuck you.
"I… I'm sorry" minutes later he broke the painful silence.
She was aware what strength it took for him to form an apology. Even when it didn't sound all too sincere.
"If you need money…" he dug into his trousers and produced an envelope.
She took it; not speaking a word. She shivered. She stuffed it into her pocket.
"You need my… time?" she avoided being indelicate. He shuddered.
"You need MY time?" it only now dawned on her. He did not have to go to her to get his 'basic' needs fulfilled… There were many other places… but he had chosen to come here! To her!
She wanted to cry. No… This was not just about getting off…
"Sherlock. What happened? Please?" she walked up to him; gently running the back of her hand against his cheek. She could still feel the dampness of where that one teardrop of his had been.
His eyes bore into hers. His entire body froze.
"What you said about me having a life…" his voice was hushed. His shivering stole its strength away.
"I blew it. Leila. I blew it" those clear eyes turned wet… and one tear after the next rolled down his cheeks.
This really was a ghost standing before her and he seemed to shrink before her…
Shrinking into the young man with all those damp black curls, the mud on his knees and his torn faculty shirt.
The young boy who used her as his diary… confessing the most horrible things to her; the things he hid behind his cool and quite frankly obnoxious external shell… the same shell that caused his cuts and bruise…
And how he afforded to feed his habit…
The same young boy who got high with her when it all got too much to handle for both of them.
He trusted her, and she trusted him… he was all she had… that young boy.
"They are sending me away" He even sounded like that handsome boy she used to know.
"It's okay" she cooed at him. She reached out for the boy. Her arms embraced him hard; not wanting to let him go… not again.
He sobbed against her chest and quickly stopped fighting her embrace. Giving in to her.
"Sherlock… shhh" she continued to coo. His hands clawed at her; holding on for dear life. He didn't know his own strength… oh he never had.
Those long limbs had been so awkward for the teenager to control…
Before she knew it he had her on the cold and dirty floor… him sitting on top of her; pinning her hips down with his legs… and she didn't fight him.
She only gasped when he stripped her off her top. Oh always in a hurry!
His nose against her bare skin felt like a rush; unlike any other man who had had his way with her; she actually reacted to his touch.
He could make her feel so alive…
Only now, too late, she realized he was recreating a fond shared memory… in the hassle and haze of all that happened he had managed to find his kit in her jeans.
It wasn't her naked skin he was sniffing…
"Sherlock!" she yelped.
"Leila" he answered. Leaning in to get the rest of the line… this time his nose and lips travelled down towards her navel. She wriggled; his touch tickled.
"Fuck me if you want, but keep me out of fucking up your life" the woman under him turned to ice. She tried to sit herself up
"Shhh" he shushed her. His tongue reversed the journey his nose had made… moving just a bit further towards her face; his lips hovered over hers. "Besides, you're the cleanest surface in here"
She rolled his eyes at him… oh for fuck's sake.
"Leila" he moaned her name; just before his lips met with hers; claiming her mouth; pushing her back onto the floor
She melted with him.
How. How could he always do that to her? She was putty in his hands… quite literally.
"Don't make me do this, alone" his vulnerability returned for a second.
He was breathless; and he had already taken her breath away.
"You don't have to be alone…" she whispered. Her wide eyes met with his.
He didn't respond. He only dipped his finger into the white powder and smeared it onto her lip. The little hairs raised at the back of her head. It took inhuman strength not to lick her lips.
"Don't move" she heard the teenage boy from her past giggle.
"Oh no, that one was mine!" he had chuckled as she had licked her lips; giving him a challenging glance. "You'll pay!"
The man growled as he kissed her again, this time with even more force. His hands hurriedly yet skilfully undid her jeans.
Oh how she wanted the power to slow down time, just to relish him… this was all moving too fast… soon he would be gone… again…
He tore her jeans and panties off in one long movement; and barely allowed her a second to breathe before he moved himself back on top of her; inside her.
"Tell me to stop" he groaned with the powerful thrust.
She gasped; her hips bucking upwards towards him. Her body hungered for pleasure… she had been numb for far too long.
"I want you, Sherlock" She confessed; her body trembled and her hands reached for him; clawing at him; untrained even… She was grasping for more. Almost as if this was the first time…
Oh those words… she had spoken them to him before…When she had to convince him that he was perfectly all right… and him even wanting to have sex with her was not a bad thing.
If only he had seen himself through her eyes… so much could have been different.
He hardly looked at her as he began to move. Strong, long movements; knocking the air out of her. She was building fast, and so was he.
"Please let me cum" she found herself begging him desperately. She could not bear it if he should stop now… leave her unfulfilled…
The veins in his arms grew as he placed his hands on her sides; giving him extra power to give her the final push over the edge.
She could not hold back the shrill scream as pleasure ripped through her system; making her convulse out of control.
He finished himself and instantly got off her; standing himself up to close his pants. He ruffled his hair.
"Thank you!" she cried as she was riding out the last of the cramps. Her body was aflame.
He corrected his shirt; tugging it firmly into his trousers; unceremoniously putting the kit into his own pocket.
She was still writhing; she swore she could still feel the friction of him inside of her. She struggled to even sit up.
"That was…" he seemed to reach for the end of the sentence but found nothing.
"You're leaving?" Her heart stopped in her chest.
"Leila. I'm afraid must" There was not a single trace of emotion in his voice.
"Don't, please… don't leave me here again" She managed shuffle to get her clothes back on; at least enough to make herself half decent when she got back on her feet. The pleasure died between her legs as her fear took over.
"I am not leaving you… I am leaving everyone. Don't feel special". Just like that, he was back to being cruel. Pretending not to care.
And now it was her to turn into the young girl.
Finding him at the school; her clothes soaked through and hair a mess… missing one of her shoes from running through the mud… calling his name…
And he just claimed not to know her when one of the older boys put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and grinned.
"And how would the freak know the whore?"
And what had he done?
He gave her one of his looks…
"Look how she's shaking. She's obviously delirious, high is my guess, freaking out. She most likely doesn't even know where she is; let alone her own name."
"Oh Leila." He rolled his eyes at her. She was crying rather helplessly.
"You must have known… but thank you" He ruffled his hair again; almost as if he wanted to tip an imaginary hat to her.
"Where are you going?" She sniffled; desperately trying to supress her emotions that had overwhelmed her.
He pointed upwards… and with that he turned around.
"And don't you dare following me. Like you said; one of us still has a chance".
She let him walk away. She wanted to run after him and cling to him; beg him to come back… but it was worthless. She had tried that already…
And there stood a woman in the middle of the room… chewing the knuckle on her thumb.
She had no idea how long she had been standing there…
Hours after she reached into the pocket of her jeans. Gone was the metal box she had had a bad habit of fondling for all these years… it was replaced with an envelope.
She opened it with shaking hands; her finger twitching even worse than before.
It held a key, and a cheque for 100.000 pounds; and a handwritten note with an address and the words:
"Be happy, Leila.
Goodbye
- Sherlock"