Ok, so i had this dream last night and I just HAD to get this written out! I really don't know if I'm going to do much with this but at least let me know what you think!

"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" Lestrade asked stopping mid walk.

"I was bored Lestrade. You really have no new cases?" Sherlock said looking around as though he was hiding them from him and one was just going to pop out at him.

"Sherlock, look I'm in the middle of something and I can't entertain today." Lestrade said. Looking down Sherlock saw that he was holding two cups of tea.

"You have someone here, a case. You only break out the tea when you're trying to get something out of someone, or if there is bad news... and judging by the look on your face it suggests the first. Honestly Lestrade you should have just called me, you know I can get something out of someone quicker than you." He turned towards the room he knew Lestrade was heading towards.

"Sherlock no!" Lestrade slammed the cups down on a near by desk, sloshing some onto the desk. "There is a reason I didn't call you. I'm taking care of this one by myself."

"That's stupid, why?"

"Because," Lestrade sounded exhausted. "This is a special case. A very special case." Sherlock looked over towards the room once again and his brows furrowed.

"It's a child isn't it?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade sighed, there really was no stopping him, "Might as well be. She's too scared to speak, guy had her locked up and beat her for the past 20 years. She's not right in the head." Lestrade said, Sherlock noticed how sad and tired he sounded.

"Ah, Mycroft told me you'd been at work non-stop for the past week. He's worried you know, wont say anything, but I can tell." Sherlock said looking over at the DI. "At least let me sit in."

"Can't, she wont even talk to me. At this point I'm not even sure she can talk." He let out another sigh and ran his hand over his face. He was tired and the small wrinkles that dotted the sides of his eyes seemed more prominent than normal and his patience was wearing thin. "I'm on the verge of calling a doctor."

"For you or her?"

"Very funny." He paused. "Fine, you can have a sit in, but don't say anything. It's taken me four days of non-stop talking to get her to even stop twitching and rocking back and forth in the fetal position. You better not ruin this. Just, don't be Sherlock Holmes for once in your life." He picked back up the cooling tea and started forward Sherlock quickly falling into place next to the DI. He stopped outside the room and Sherlock took off his coat and scarf.

"You said not to be me, well this is as good as its going to get." Sherlock said stiffly. Lestrade nodded and carefully opened the door slowly going in first, Sherlock followed right behind him.

The lights in the room had been dimmed, and in the middle of the room sat the normal metal table, and at the table sat a young girl about Sherlock's age. He had never seen in person someone who was in worse condition. She was beyond skinny, it looked as though she was just a skeleton with skin pulled over it, her left arm was in a sling it must have been broken, along with a rib that looked that it had healed at a funny angle. She wore a dirty skirt that was far too big for her and had way too many holes, along with a black ribbed tank. Her hair was long, down to her feet and was caked in dust, grim, dirt, and what looked like blood, he couldn't even begin to guess what color her hair originally was. Sherlock guessed the blood was her own as she seemed in no condition to hurt anyone. The girl looked up quickly as the two men walked into the room, Sherlock noticed there were only two chairs, she must have noticed as well because she quickly vacated the chair she had been occupying and stood in the corner, leaving the chair for the new person, him.

"Miss. Collins I brought that tea I said I would." Lestrade said as friendly as he could manage without sounding too cheerful. Lestrade set down the two cups of tea and the woman took a quick step forward looked down at the two cup up at the two men and before either could say anything had added a couple spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of cream to each and pushed them back towards Sherlock and Lestrade shrinking back towards the corner where she sat down hugging her knees to her chest rocking back and forth on her feet looking down at the floor.

Sherlock looked down at the tea and over at Lestrade who's face was impassive, "She's been like this since we brought her here. Every time we try to get her to eat she just makes the plate more presentable and pushes it back towards us. I'm starting to think we are going to have to sedate her again, and strap her down to an IV to even get something in her so she wont die." Lestrade sat down in the chair. Sherlock looked from Lestrade to the woman, her eyes bore into the floor, muttering soft spoken words under her breath. He listened careful and realized it was words to a TV show theme song to a show he himself used to be sat in front of by the nanny in one of her attempts to make more of a normal child. He took a step forward and the muttering stopped and she stopped rocking and he could see, what little muscle she had, tense up.

"Whats her first name?" Sherlock murmured to Lestrade.

"No idea, the father wouldn't tell us, and we've had a hell of a time with the hospital trying to get a match on some prints. For as far as we know she didn't even exist until we found her. And we weren't even prepared to find someone living there besides the Father. We found her in a small closet next to the fireplace." Lestrade said. "I'm about to send her to the hospital for the mental nurses to take care of her. I'm at my limit and I can't have her living in my interrogation room."

"She's been living here? In here?" Sherlock looked around. There was a small cot that looked as though it hadn't even been touched, the blankets lay next to it on the floor.

"She won't let anyone come near her to move her into another room. I don't even want to think how we are ever going to get her out of this room when he finally need to." Lestrade took a drink of the now cold tea.

Sherlock looked back over at Miss. Collins who had continued her muttering and rocking. Growing up with Mycroft he had never even know that there were people that lived like this, true he knew not everyone lived in a happy family but for someone to actually treat a child, or even a person like this was disgusting. He crouched down and slowly maneuvered his way towards her, she had once again stopped her muttering and rocking, only this time she looked up watching Sherlock, a curious look on her face as she watched him wobble his way closer to her. When he was less than a foot away she did something that made Lestrade fall out of his chair.

She held out her arm that wasn't broken with her palm facing flat towards Sherlock, "Stop." She said in a voice that was quite soft, but sounded croaky as though she had never spoken this loudly before.

Sherlock did, he did not stand but sat there in the crouched position. "You do talk." He spoke no louder than a whisper, not wanting to scare her.

"Little..." She said in the same voice.

"Bloody hell Sherlock is there anything you can't do?" Lestrade cussed silently, but Sherlock heard and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Where Master?" She asked, before launching into a coughing fit, her voice was apparently not used to this much use at this volume.

"Master?" Sherlock asked, he looked back at Lestrade who shrugged, "I think she means her Father," he looked back towards Miss. Collins, "Do you mean your Father?"

Miss. Collins just looked at Sherlock with a blank face. "Where Master?"

"He isn't going to hurt you anymore." Sherlock said, not sure how else to let her know she was in a safe place.

The woman looked away back down to the floor where she ran a finger in between the tiles along the lines, Sherlock was starting to think that she was done talking when just as he was getting ready to move she spoke once again. "Master bad man..." She said it so suddenly it seemed to even surprise herself, as she looked at the one way quickly then to the door. It was as though she knew there were people watching her, but she seemed to fear one of them was her Father she quickly looked back down at the floor and tensed up again.

"Do you have a first name? What did Master call you?" Sherlock asked, trying to bring her back out of her shell, but she did not look up, she simple continued to look down a single tear fell off the tip of her nose falling to the floor as she muttered a single word, that she seemed to know meant something bad, and it made an anger swell up in his chest.

"Bitch."