*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*
Sherlock's heart stopped beating and he could no longer breathe. No! No, no, no, no, no! Nothing but death could have been worse. Bruises would fade, cut would heal, bones would mend, but this? This he could not fix, this he could not heal for her. Dearest Joan, how could anyone do this to her? He knew the answer. She was now beyond repair because of him, and he could do nothing to save her. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and pressed her tight against his chest despite her soft whimpers of pain.
"Joan… sweet, perfect Joan… I am so sorry. So very sorry." For months now he had strived to hide his affections for the beautiful women who lived under his roof. From the moment she entered the house everything had changed in his life. He first learn not to hate her, then to like her, then to admire her, then to need her, and finally, though he would not admit it aloud, to love her. Ironically, he had Moriarty to thank for his discovery of his true feelings, it was her offer to run away that had opened his eyes to how much he loved Watson. He could never leave her, and now here she was, a shattered mess, and he couldn't love her more.
"We need to call Gregson." Sherlock said, slowly sliding back into his detective mood as he gets up off the bed.
"Must we?" Joan's voice was full of panic, and Sherlock's heart broke watching her suffer.
"Perhaps it can wait… but just for a while. We must tell Gregson before too long." She nodded reluctantly, despite everything she knew that there was no avoiding what must be done. "But Joan," Sherlock turned around to face her as she lied still curled up in the bed, afraid even to breathe too quickly. "Joan… can I at least turn on the lights and look you over? I need to know what he did to you… everything." His jaw clenched as he remembers the demon who had called him, the monster who had hurt this woman, the woman he loved.
Joan hesitated and pulled the quilt tighter around, trying to cover every inch of her skin. He waited, uncharacteristically patient, as she deliberated. He knew that she was scarred now, and everything at this moment had to be her decision. She had to have control. Slowly she looked up at him and nodded, giving him approval to switch on the lights. Gently, he flipped the switch and slowly looked back at Joan whose face was turned towards the window. From the way she clenched the quilt to her chest, he knew she must being hiding some physical damage. It was obvious that she knew every place that she had been hurt, and that she knew that the abuse was going to be evident. She also, despite all her own pain, thought of Sherlock's pain, she knew he was blaming himself for what had happen to her and that every bruise, every scar would just encourage him to lay more guilt upon himself. She had to take this very slow.
"Before I show you," Joan said, still not turning to face him. "You must remember, that this isn't your fault. Sherlock can you hear me? This is not your fault in the least, our home is the safest place I could have been alone."
"I shouldn't have even left you alone, after everything that has happened in the past few weeks… I should have never left your side." It was obvious he was torturing himself, and that hurt Joan almost more than anything she was physically dealing with at the moment.
"No! No, Sherlock, you can't think like that. You thought all the danger was gone, we both thought we were safe, that it was over."
It is almost as if she knows who is responsible, as if she knows it was Moriarty. As he thought this, Sherlock considered telling Joan what he had learn, but as he watched her shiver and whimper from the pain that shot through her body, even with a small movement, and decided against it. He would have to tell her eventually, but not now, he looked up at her weak little frame. Definitely not now.
"Sherlock? Do you understand me?" Joan interrupted Sherlock's current train of thought yanking him back into the present moment.
"Yes… yes Joan. I will not blame myself." But I also will never forgive myself. He swore to her that she would never be hurt by Moriarty and he had failed her.
"Okay…" He watched her inhale deeply and turn her face in his direction. She refused to look him in the eye, she knew what her face must look like. She cringed as she couldn't help remembering what happened.
XXXXX
When the intruder opened her door, she assumed it was Sherlock and was about to launch into yet another lecture about personal space, but the words frozen in her throat when she look up and saw a man she didn't know standing in the entrance way. His presence alone made her tense and as he approached her instinct to escape took root. Unfortunately, not fast enough. He slapped her hard across the face with so much force that she flew across the bed.
"Hello love." The man laughed. He grabbed a handful of Joan's hair and used it to pull her face up to his and aggressively crushed his lips against hers. Joan dug her nails into the monster cheek and felt the blood drip over her fingers, he simply laughed at her efforts. "Now I see what Holmes see in you love. You are certainly a feisty one." Joan continued to struggle to get out of his grip but it was pointless, she was clearly over powered. Next thing she knew, her hands were tied to the headboard, her clothes stripped off. She attempted to kick him away and as a response he snapped one of her ankles. Joan screamed out in pain as the beast laughed, squeezing the shattered bone as she writhed to get out of his grip. On every single part of her body he touched she felt a bruise forming. He wanted to leave physical evidence, lots of evidence. Just as Joan began to believe that it couldn't possibly get worse, she received a horrid shock. The man bent over her and sunk his teeth into both her breast, breaking the skin and causing blood to flow down her body. Again she screamed out in pain, only to have him slide down her body and do the same to each of her hips. Tears began to stream down Joan's face, everything hurt, every surface of her body, every inch. Finally, he positioned himself over her and put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "A gift love. From the new Moriarty." And with that he thrust into her.
He had left as suddenly as he had entered. Before his exit he grabbed her phone and kissed her forehead. "Don't you miss me too much now love." He laughed and walked out the door, leaving her bound and weeping, praying for Sherlock come home and save her.
XXXXX
"Joan!" Sherlock shouted, firmly but gently. Waking Joan from her dark memories. She looked up at him as he reach ouy and gently caressed the bruise that created a mask over her eyes and nose. She winced in pain and pulled away. "Oh Joan… Joan I'm so sorry… I-I didn't mean…" Sherlock moved quickly away, uncharacteristically cowering.
"No… no it's fine…" Joan whispered, regaining her composure. "Are you ok?"
"Yes… yes of course…" He replied. Reluctantly, Joan showed Sherlock her arms covered in hand shaped bruises, her wrists with the rope burns, her neck bruised and coated with sores, her now deformed, broken ankle and hand-print covered legs, and finally her torso including the four bites covered with a layer of dried blood. Sherlock had not realized he was holding his breath until the shock of the blood forced it out of him like a punch in the gut. Seeing her body in full light, Joan began to weep once again, causing Sherlock's heart to shatter. "Joanie… sweet, beautiful Joanie… please don't cry. I'll get this bastard." He swore to her. "And when I find him… I'll kill him."
