AN: Hi all. This idea kept me up till 4 in the morning and hasn't left me alone since. Has not been beta'd, sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I only own my OC
What day was it? Are you kidding me? More like what year was it. She had No idea how long she had been there. She was pretty sure everyone thought she was dead. Officially announced dead. The newspapers had her name, but no picture, declared dead. Well there was a pretty bad explosion, and she was in the building. A gas leak had been the official story, but the gas lines were broken on purpose. But she got out. With third degree burns, she was one of the lucky ones.
Lily is, or was, an undercover agent for the British Government. Except, she was not British. She was born in the United States of America. Both of her parents had worked for the Intelligence agency. When she was little, her teachers told her that she was smart. At sixteen she had graduated from college. At sixteen her parents were killed on an assignment gone horribly wrong. Lily had no other living relatives, her parents were all she had left. And they were gone. The American Government didn't dare put her in foster care. She was a trouble maker. She took after he parents and loved to live on the wild side. The British intelligence agency has heard of Lily's parent's previous success and volunteered to take her in.
In England she spent a good part of two years training. The other part traveling the country. When her superiors thought she was ready, they gave her assignments within the country, mostly undercover work. No one suspected an eighteen year old American to know much of anything, which worked to her advantage.
Her next assignment required her to act like a drug addict. Lily was meant to find out everything from suppliers to who was telling who to do what and where and the brains behind the business. The business being selling, dealing and buying almost anything anyone could think of that was illegal.
At first it was working well. After two years she knew who the suppliers were and where they were located. She was able to recognize faces of people who worked for the government, she saw police officers being paid off and when she was snooping a bit too much, she was caught.
"What do you think you're doing?" Rick caught her arm.
"Umm?" Shit.
"You're not supposed to be here." Rick was also American. You did not want to be on this guy's bad side. He had a temper that could level a building.
"I was just trying to find some food." Lily's stomach grumbled loudly to prove her point.
"You and I both know that isn't true, the kitchen is over there." He pointed to the other side of the building.
She didn't respond. The truth was, she smelled gas and she was trying to find out where it was coming from. Then someone used their lighter.
Living threw that explosion… She wished she hadn't. Only a handful of people made it out, even they were severely injured. She pulled out one man who was begging for help.
After the explosion, everyone moved to a new location, everyone that survived that is. Her burns were treated by a veterinarian. He was the only person who was ever kind to her. He treated the low-life's that survived. Everyone else went to a hospital.
The new location was a bar. She saw many faces, old and new. The man she pulled out of the flames, happened to be the brains, the money, the means behind the drugs, the prostitutes, the slaves, the firearms and the corruption. Anything illegal, could be bought from him.
And she just happened to save his life. If she knew who he was, she would have left him to burn. Lily was actually surprised when he wanted to see her in person to thank her. Rick wasn't pleased. Yes, Rick survived. His personal punching bag, getting special treatment from the man in charge. Before the explosion, Rick slapped her around for the fun of it. When she had finished eating the first full meal she had eaten in months, Rick made her pay. She didn't wake up for two days after he was done with her.
When she did regain consciousness, she was in the basement of the bar. Or at least that's where she thought she was. There was no lights, no windows, no anything. She couldn't see anything. At the old place, the basement was where you went to die. It was were the girls were kept. Teenagers that had the misfortune of stepping into the wrong club where their drinks were drugged and they were kidnapped. Kidnapped for the soul purpose of being the fuck toys for the men upstairs.
She could hear them crying across the room. Lily was chained to a different wall. She soon learned that when it was dark, it was safe. When the lights went on, bad things happened. The girls were raped, they didn't last long. Every few days one died and was dragged up the stairs when the bar was empty. A new one replaced her. They were allowed bathroom breaks when the bar was closed. And Food was a privledge. Bathrooms breaks were the only time when they were allowed to move. Life, or the lack of it, went on for an unknown amount of time.
Lately, the beating have been worse and worse. Instead of fists and feet, it was baseball bats as well. She was even shot once. The bullet remained in her thigh. Unfortunately he never aimed for her head. Didn't want to put her out of her misery. Thankfully they didn't rape her. She was saved strictly for beatings. The other girls couldn't take it.
A two day old newspaper was in the bathroom one day. Front page read, Sherlock Holmes Famous Detective Becomes Drug addict? Holmes, why did that sound familiar?
Mycroft Holmes had been her contact, and her boss. Sherlock Holmes, perhaps his brother? 221b Baker Street. Baker street, she knew where that was.
"Times up." A voice shouted through the door.
Rick used his foot this time. He must have been wearing steel-toed boots or something. It hurt exceptionally more this time. There goes another rib… Stomach…good thing she hasn't eaten since yesterday. Probably would be heaving blood again. That's it. She thought to herself. I am done. Tomorrow she would escape. She took the rest of her beating, and passed out when it was over because it hurt too much to breath.
Lily climbed out through the bathroom window as soon as she entered the bathroom. She couldn't go to the police, a fair amount were paid off and they would be searching for her as soon as they found out she was missing. Any contact she had with the Government was most likely outdated. She had to go to Baker Street. It was only a few miles away.
A few miles… It felt like it took her a week. She had to take a break every five minutes.
As she turned the corner onto Baker Street she noticed an arrogant looking prick getting into his car along with several body guards. The car drove away.
She knocked, holding on to the doorframe for support. Hadn't walked for this long in years, her lungs felt like she ran a marathon. Her knees were swelling up as well.
An older woman answered the door.
"Hello, may I help you? Oh my, are you alright dear?"
"I need to speak to Mr. Holmes." She gasped.
"Oh? Um, just a minute dear. Come on in. I'll be back in a tick." Lily gingerly stepped through the doorway.
"Sherlock? There's an American who wishes to see you."
"An American?"
"She seems a bit worse for the wear I'm afraid."
Sherlock sighed, only had a few hours before…
"Tell her to come back next week. I'm busy."
"Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson Scolded.
"I'm busy."
"I'm sorry dear, he's -."
'Sherlock Holmes!" She did her best to shout as she slowly limped up the stairs.
"I-." Oh sweet Jesus. Her sides. She could hardly breathe. She paused in the middle of the staircase to get some oxygen before she passed out.
"John." A blurry figure rushed down the stairs.
"Sherlock call an ambulance."
"No." Gasp Hospital. Can't. Not safe. Mycroft." And she passed out.
"Mycroft?"
"Sherlock. Jesus. She's got….Jesus Sherlock look. Look."
Clothing was ripped and covered in dry blood. Her breathing sounded labored, pained. Broken rib(s)? Wrists were cut and bruised and scared, signs of a struggle with handcuffs and other restraints. Severely underweight. Malnourished. But at one point was healthy and active. Cigarette burns on her arms. Signs of a broken femur, not set, partially healed, but incorrectly. Signs of third degree burns on left thigh and left arm.
"Sherlock help me." John was trying to pick her up.
"What?"
"Help me carry her into my old room. We need an ambulance."
"I don't think that would be wise." Sherlock pulled out his phone and texted his brother. Baker Street. Now.
"Sherlock she can hardly breathe."
"You're a doctor. Do what you can."
About twenty minutes passed before an annoyed looking Mycroft Holmes showed up.
"Sherlock what is this nonsense?"
"Mycroft!" John breathed.
"Over here." John pointed towards his old room.
"I do have a country to run you know, this had better be-." Mycroft dropped his umbrella.
"Good lord. Can't be possible." Mycroft took out his phone and dialed a number.
"Who is she?" Sherlock asked.
"Someone who is supposed to be dead." He replied before speaking into his phone.
"Yes, I need Joseph at Baker Street. With anything and everything he can bring. As soon as possible. Faster than possible."
"Not good enough for a hospital?" Sherlock observed.
"Too good for a hospital. Do not let anyone, anyone come in here."
"As interesting as this seems, I need to go shopping."
Joseph arrived in fifteen minutes.
"What is it Mycroft?"
"In here." He directed the man into John's old bedroom.
"Is that…? Oh lord." He couldn't believe his eyes.
"What's all this fuss about?" Mrs. Hudson came scurrying in.
"Mrs. Hudson, do not let anyone, besides Sherlock and John, in here without my consent."
"Is it about that American? Is she alright?"
"I can only hope."
"Doctor?"
"Nothing I can't fix. But it will take a good long while. And I need more supplies and a hand."
"John?"
"Yes yes, I'll help."
"Joseph, this is Doctor John Watson, John this is Doctor Joseph Clarke."
"Pleasure."
And they got to work.
"John? Tell me everything that happened when this woman arrived here."
"Well, Mrs. Hudson came up to tell us we had a client. Sherlock claimed we were busy and told Mrs. Hudson to send her away. This woman called out Sherlock's name and proceeded to come up the stairs, she made it halfway up where I told Sherlock to call an ambulance. She protested, saying it wasn't safe and then said your name. Then she passed out on the stairs."
Mycroft began texting furiously.
After every part of her body was x-rayed, the fun began. She regained consciousness soon after the Doctors began their x-rays. But breathing was just too painful, so she was given a sedative. Which they were going to give her sooner or later because they had bones to re-break, bones to set, and a bullet that was still in her thigh. Lots of work to do.
It took about eight hours before everything was said and done. John had to leave for something near the end, leaving the other doctor to finish by himself.
"I can't believe after all this time she was still alive." The doctor spoke quietly to Mycroft.
"Indeed. Call me when she awakens. I am needed elsewhere."
Mycroft left, leaving the Doctor alone with his patient.
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