The walls, the ceiling, and the floor were all as white and as spotlessly polished as Jayne remembered them. She hadn't been in a hospital before Sherlock and John took her for the first time. The rooms brought back the memory, and she couldn't separate the fondness of the memory from the pain and weakness it carried with it. She pulled a face and shook her head a little, as if that would shake off the memory. Perhaps it would throw it into the sky and far away. Even Jayne knew that was just a fantasy, but she tried to ignore it anyway. She followed her mother down the corridor until she reached Molly's familiar lab - the one she always entered - and pushed open the sparkling white door. Her white lab coat floated out behind her just slightly at the ends, and for a while the only things that weren't a blinding shade of white around Jayne were her mother's skin and hair, and obviously, her own. Molly had been called in by the famous consulting detective to help him with a case. It was just the norm, as Jayne's mother had put it. Jayne smiled at that. She loved imagining Sherlock running after her mother for help and making her feel important. She also loved how her mother had invited her to join her in visiting the lab at St Bart's. Obviously Jayne had practically jumped at the chance to see Sherlock and John again. She hadn't seen them in two months. Sherlock and John had been the first two people Jayne ever learnt to trust in her short life, so it was more than understandable the impact they had had on the little girl. Molly held open the door with one of her small, slim hands, her fingers curling around the edge of it as she stepped aside so Jayne had enough room to enter behind her. Jayne gave her a grateful smile and a quick 'thank you' as she placed her feet into the room. She walked with her head down to start with, but once she was completely in the room and past her mother, she carefully looked up. She was startled - all eyes in the room had fallen on her in a somewhat stunned silence.
The familiar consulting detective was sat behind a long white table, with bits and pieces of lab equipment thrown haphazardly around it. He looked just the same - the same wild eyes that scanned you like a futuristic machine. All information processed. 1.16.23 seconds. Study completed.
Leaning his arm casually against the other side of the table was a friendly face that brought a bright, happy smile to Jayne's face. John Watson. The same old John with his warm, fond eyes that could make anybody feel at ease. It's like when you find yourself in a room full of strangers, but suddenly you spot one person you're close with. That was the effect that John could have in any situation. Jayne also knew that this part of John could instantly change in less than half a second, and the army doctor could make anybody feel small and powerless against him. He had fought in Afghanistan, and he loved the thrill of danger. That can make anybody seem frightening, and John particularly so. He could brake your bone before you knew it was happening, and he could argue his way into making you feel like nothing. That was something that Jayne found so intriguing about him, but it never stopped her from feeling relaxed around him. She was, after all, the daughter of former most powerful criminal in London. So for now, John Watson was the man who had saved her life, and his expression was the first to change from shocked to a soft smile.
Just that simple look could make Jayne feel at home, safe, and wanted. She couldn't resist it - she let out a gentle giggle as she ran up to fling herself into John's arms, like a child much younger than herself seeing their parent after the first day of nursery.
John caught her mid-jump with a laugh, pulling her up into a tight embrace. From behind them Jayne could still sense Sherlock's eyes upon her, and as much as she tried to ignore it she still felt exposed, like an exhibit on display. She buried her face into John's shoulder, sheltering herself from the detective to avoid him seeing anything more, if that was possible, but also helping her to ignore his gaze.
"Hello, Jayne," she heard John greet from behind her head.
"I've missed you," Jayne answered, her voice muffled by John's coat.
"I've missed you too," John laughed, and finally placed her dangling legs back down onto the floor. "How are you, Molly?"
"Yeah, good, actually. Good. Thanks," she answered. "So come on. What's this case, then?" Jayne's mother began walking over to Sherlock's side, but suddenly he didn't look interested in the documents, and equipment that he had been so engrossed with not more than a few seconds ago.
Jayne looked up at John with a wide grin upon her face, like a child who had just got themselves a stick of cotton-candy at the fairground. John's face wasn't the same as what Jayne had expected - he was also beginning to observe her, Jayne being able to find the same glint in his eyes as Sherlock's, their eyes jumping up and down her, taking in every inch of her. Suddenly Jayne's expression fell, and she took one cautious step backwards. With a sharp intake of breath, she snapped, "What is it?"
"No, no...Jayne," John soothed. "Nothing's wrong. It's just...you look so different. So much better, healthier. It's good to see."
Jayne let go, her tense body relaxing. It was true, she did look better. When she first arrived, she was skin and bones, dangerously skinny. She had messy black hair, that had never been cut unless Jayne ripped it off with some sort of knife. She was pale, and she looked like a ghost compared to any healthy human. Now, Molly had cut her hair properly, with a small pair of hairdresser's scissors as she sat in the middle of the living room floor on a Tuesday afternoon. It had also been washed, and instead of a black as dark as a witch's cat, it had lightened to a dark brown like dark chocolate truffles. There was more of her now, a healthier weight. Obviously she wasn't quite there yet, but at least she had gained some weight. It was a start, but there was still a noticeable difference, Jayne knew.
"Oh, right...I've gotten better," Jayne agreed, a sense of pride in her tone.
"Something's wrong," Sherlock finally perked up. Jayne's eyes widened. She knew it, she knew it. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
"What do you mean?" Molly asked him.
"Something's wrong with Jayne. Isn't there?" Sherlock clarified slowly, putting on his best 'I'm surrounded by idiots' face.
"I'm fine. I don't know what you're talking about," Jayne replied sternly. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
"Yes, you do." Crash, crash.
Jayne was silent. Stunned. Vulnerable. Hopeless.
Useless. Worthless. Weak. Revenge. Oh, god...oh, no...
There was nothing left. Crash, crash. Scratching, harder. Breaking, falling. "Sherlock?" Jayne's voice was quiet and hesitant, like a child at a headteacher's office.
She beckoned him over with a tilt of her head, asking to talk to him in private. She turned to walk away, and heard Sherlock beginning to follow. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
"What is it?" he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.
"How did you know?!"
"When you walked in you held your head down, as if you were ashamed or afraid. Your right hand remained at your jean's pocket until you went to John. That's where your phone is, you can tell by the shape of it in your pocket. You were always so afraid of your phone, now you want to protect it, to hide it. When I looked to you, you looked away, as if you were afraid. Afraid of what I would find out - but you made it so blatantly obvious."
Jayne sighed, and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Of course. 'Obvious.'"
"Let me see your phone, then." Scratch, scratch, scratch. Breaking down.
Jayne remained still, but Sherlock just continued to glare down at her with those piercing eyes. Giving up, she hesitantly took her phone out her pocket with a shaky hand. She held it out to him, but the only way for him to get it was for him to snatch it out of her fingers before she knew it was coming.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Crash, crash, crash.
Break, break, break.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One. All information processed. 1.16.23 seconds. Study completed.
"Moran."
Disaster.
Useless. Worthless. Weak. Revenge.
The monster's alive, it's real, it's here. Jayne couldn't hide it anymore. It was gone. Gone from her protection, and now he knew. Now everybody would know. The monster had escaped from the zoo.
"You didn't know?"
"Not at all."
There was nothing left. Everything was ruined, and the monster would only cause more damage. Jayne felt physically sick, her face paling and tears springing up behind her eyelids.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Revenge, revenge, revenge.
Useless. Worthless. Weak.
"He's taunting you. Why didn't you tell anybody sooner? He sent you the first text two months ago!"
Useless. Worthless. Weak.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Those were Jayne's last thoughts before her head began to spin, black dots clouded her vision, and her legs failed beneath her. She was down on the tiled floor. 1.16.23 seconds. Gone.
Weak. Worthless. Useless.
"Please...just stop."
Chapter One is here :) Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! xx