Here's another chapter wether you like it or not! Though I hope you do like it.
I don't own Mycroft, I wish I did but I don't. I don't own any of the Sherlock characters, only Margaret.
Margaret woke up on the cold concrete of a small cell. Her head pounded and her red hair fell into her eyes. Only then did she realize that she didn't have her cap. She muttered profanities; she had really liked that hat. She looked around her and noticed a small cot and a sink with a toilet next to it.
"Ah, they've got to be jokin'."
"I assure you, we are not."
Margaret turned around and saw Mycroft standing at the bars, leaning on his umbrella. The bruise on his face was now a nice, dark blue. Margaret was very proud.
"Yer bruise is comin' in nice."
"Ah, yes. I have you to thank for that."
"Yer very welcome."
Margaret stood up and walked, slightly off balance mind you, over to the bars. She grasped them and looked up at Mycroft, only now seeing the height difference. He stared down at her and she felt very small indeed, even as she glared at him.
"How long you plannin' ta keep me 'ere?"
"Just until you give us the location of the disk you stole."
"What was on that disk that was so important?" Mycroft looked down at her in bewilderment.
"You don't know what was on it?"
"Ah course not. I was just doin' a job for a client. Never looked at what was on it."
"Who was your client?"
"You heard of doctor, patient confidentiality?"
"Yes."
"Same relative principle."
Mycroft gave her a look somewhere close to pity before he turned around and walked down the corridor.
"Eh! Where ya goin'?"
But he did not answer, he just kept walking. Soon after he left, two burly guards came down and opened her cell. They took her arms and dragged her out, going the way Mycroft had. The came to a set of double doors and which led to a larger room covered in white tiles. Mycroft stood in the corner, leaning against the wall.
"Last chance, Miss Gladstone."
"I thought I told you to call me Margaret."
"If you do not tell me now, I shall be forced to be less than kind to you."
"Ha, wot could you do to me?"
"I would do nothing." he nodded to the two men who held her by the arms and the first one proceeded to punch her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. The two men dropped her to the floor and she fell, coughing and gasping for air.
The second one kicked her in the stomach and she grabbed hold of his boot, pulling roughly on it, sending him to the ground where he came forward and kicked her in the face. Blood trickled from her nose but she had no time to notice for the other one was already upon her.
Margaret kicked and punched as best she could, trying to gain the upper hand somehow but the two men were large, far larger than her. In the end her resistance really had no effect whatsoever.
4 hours later
"That'll be quite enough, Michael, Gerard. Thank you."
Margaret lay on the white tiled floor, bleeding, battered, broken and bruised. Mycroft still stood in the corner, though his jacket lay on a chair beside him and he was looking at the time on a pocket watch. The two guards left, closing the door silently behind them.
"Four hours, not bad." he walked over and crouched down beside her.
"Yer a bastard." she hissed before coughing up spatters of blood.
"Mmm, I've been informed of that." he clasped his hands in front of him. "Now would you like to tell me where the disk is?"
"Go to hell."
Mycroft sighed and looked down at her in derision. Then he stood up, grabbed his coat and stepped over her, walking to the door. As soon as Margaret heard the door shut, she curled into a ball and just laid there.
This went on for a number of days. Mycroft would enter the room, followed by Michael and Gerard. He would ask her where she hid the disk and she would refuse to comply. Then the two guards would proceed to beat the living crap out of her as Mycroft looked on in rapt indifference. It became somewhat of a daily ritual, one Margaret was proud to be apart of.
By the third day, Margaret was sporting a broken nose, a black eye, several cuts and bruises riddled across her body and three broken ribs, making it difficult for her to breathe. She sat in the corner of the room, sore and hungry, for they had yet to feed her, watching the door waiting for the three men.
It was then that the door began to creak open. Margaret stiffened and glared at Mycroft as he entered but grew confused when he shut the door. He was alone and in his hands was a small medical kit. He walked over to her and knelt down.
"What're you playin' at?" he looked up from the kit and into her scowling face, and then he smiled.
"Can't have you dying from infected wounds, then we'd never find the disk."
"Yer a cold bastard." she whispered harshly.
"Caring is not an advantage."
"I'm not askin' ya to care, I'm askin' ya to be human!" she took a short intake of breath and went silent.
He looked at her but didn't respond; only opened the med kit and took out rubbing alcohol and some gauze. Taking hold of her wrist, he began to clean the cuts on her arm. Margaret looked at his hand, his fingers were so long they wrapped fully around her small wrist and then some.
"Ah," she hissed, "careful!"
"Well if you told us where you hid the damn thing we wouldn't have to do this." Mycroft said impatiently.
"If I told you where I hid it, me client would most likely kill me."
"We can offer you protection." she scoffed as he said this and his grip on her hand tightened.
"You can trust me-"
"TRUST YOU!?" she screeched, ripping her hand away from him. "AFTER YOU TOLD THOSE GORILLAS TO NEARLY KILL ME, NO SIR!" her breathing became short and she gasped desperately for air.
"You seem to have broken a few ribs, you'll need a doctor." he stood up and walked out the door, returning shortly with a few men and a stretcher. They laid her on it, as she was still trying to breath and the last thing she saw before all went black was the seriously annoyed face of Mycroft.
It took several hours but Margaret now sat back in her small cell, completely fine, except for her ribs, which The Doctor had said would take some time to heal. He'd also told off Mycroft, which was rather amusing for her. She liked The Doctor.
She lay on the small cot, just thinking. She had to congratulate herself on lasting this long without saying anything about that disk. Why didn't they just understand that she was the only one who knew where it was and that it was safe and let her be on her way?
She groaned when she heard footsteps on the concrete floor. Thinking it was Mycroft coming back, she pushed herself off the bed, cringing slightly, and walked over to the bars, leaning on them.
"I've told you, I'm not sayin' nothin'!" she called. "Only I know where the bloody thing is and it's gonna stay that way!"
"Ohh, I do hope not." the soft Irish voice filled the corridor and her eyes widened in fear.
"Moriarty."
Oh snap, it's a wild Moriarty...
