"It's okay, we can track your phone call. We will be there soon." Lestrade hung up on a tear-stained face Clara.
Within around 7 minutes, the Police were there. The officer she communicated with came over to her and wrapped a soft blanket around her. Just then, a tall, slim man with black curls in his hair and a shorter, chestnut colored hair, and a few rough spots emerged from a cab and came up to Clara. She felt her body tense up. The taller man started talking to her while pulling her away from Detective Lestrade. He started to talk fast, and her head started to spin. Keeping up with him doing whatever he was doing. She then realized right then he was deducing her. She tried to push away from him, but he held her there.
He noticed something about her...She'd been crying. "You've been crying, why?" Sherlock asked cluelessly.
"Now, Sherlock, stop. You're scaring her," the shorter man said impatiently. Clara felt a tear travel down her face. Before she could wipe it away, she felt a rough and bony hand wipe it away. She looked down and fumbled with her phone. She pulled up the Doctors' contact and texted what she could before Sherlock saw the message, "Help me." Sherlock gave John a look that meant "Shoo," so John walked away, but not to far because you never knew with Sherlock.
Sherlock looked back at Clara and asked her, "Your name, what is it?" He looked dead in her eyes to find a small fire burning from adventure that was slowly fading.
"Cla-Clara," she said shaking with her voice cracking.