~o0o~
Chapter Eight
I knocked on Aunt H's door, and once she opened the door, I showed her the message I'd typed up while walking down. She giggled excitedly and said, "One moment dearie, and I'll get something for you lot."
I smiled and signed, "Thank you." Which she did know. She smiled and shuffled quickly to her kitchen. I smiled and went back up the stairs.
Sherlock looked to be very annoyed as Sarah hovered, but I let them be, and continued my reading in Sherlock's chair. It took longer than I imagined, for him to turn and ask "Aren't you going to help?" Referring to Sarah, not his investigation.
To answer him, I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. He scoffed and went back to his search, searching what, I wasn't sure.
Aunt H had come into the kitchen and was sharing whispered words with John. I sat in Sherlock's chair and tried to read about poisons, but I couldn't focus. I began to feel my eyes droop, feeling tired as I do all the time lately, and so I marked my spot in my book. I set my book aside and then curled into the back of the chair, but kept my eyes open halfway, giving Sherlock a lazy stare almost. My mind drifted with my eyes, and just as they were closing, I heard Sherlock jump up in a hurry.
He was out of the flat in seconds. I frowned, wondering what I had missed, and then looked to John only to see the confusion on his face that I felt.
"Yeah, so I'll order take out?" John said as if there wasn't potentially a break in the case.
I nodded, and got up to help clear the table, but we soon realized that wasn't the best idea. I heard John's phone ding, receiving a message, he pause to read it, then said aloud, "Uh, Nova, did you leave you phone downstairs? Mycroft says he thinks you did."
I frowned, thinking about it, but rolled my eyes realizing that I had in fact, left it in my room.
John laughed as I merely shrugged and sat back in Sherlock's chair, "I'll get it for you after I order the food. You know he'll harass me all night otherwise."
I feigned ignorance as I picked up my book, and continued where'd I'd left off. I did however look up when Sarah walked over to me holding two glasses of wine, and offered me one.
"Do you want some?" Sarah said.
I smiled widely and nodded my head vigorously as I carelessly tossed my book on the arm table, and took the spare glass from her. Then I held the glass in one hand, draped the blanket over myself as I curled up, and simply enjoyed my wine.
My smile slowly slid off my face as my glass became emptier and emptier, and my eyes grew heavy. John was suddenly in front of me, taking my glass from my hand, and re draping me in the blanket that I hadn't even noticed had fallen.
I didn't protest, but groaned aloud as the doorbell chimed and John laughed softly, "Blimey, that was quick. I'll just pop down. Sorry, I tried."
I sighed, and smiled at him as he walked off, and listened to the sound of his footsteps as he went down stairs. I smiled at Sarah as she refilled her glass, but then we realized something wasn't right.
A heavy thud sounded, then there were foreign voices, and multiple sets of feet pounding up the stairs. Our smiles turned into looks of horror as our hearts kicked into gear.
We both leaped from our chairs and ran for different doors, to bar them shut, but as I reached the kitchens door, it burst open. More unfortunately, the door slammed me right in the face, and in my moment of being stunned, they struck me. I felt hands on my shoulders, and then a sharp pain to the back of my head.
~o0o~
I felt the pain first, my entire head, from my nose to the back of my head pulsed with pain. I took in a deep breath through my nose, and felt a gag in my mouth. I opened my eyes, I recognized we were in a dimly lit tunnel. As my eyes focused more, I realized I wasn't alone, and that John and Sarah were tied to chairs same as I. Someone else was with us, the woman from the circus, staring at us, and standing next to the giant crossbow.
My heart skipped a beat and then began racing, my head was clearing and I was connecting the dots to what kind of a situation we were in. A situation I was uncomfortably familiar with. I started to struggle and was on the verge of hyperventilating, and as quickly as I had gained my senses back, I lost them.
I felt myself disconnect from reality, and suddenly I was somewhere else. I heard Him. There was a sound, Him whispering in my ear, but when I whipped my head to the side to see, there was no one. I began looking around frantically, my vision swam, the dark dank tunnel fazed to and from a living room in pastel colors. I felt a weight on my chest, and looked down, but there was nothing physically there. My skin prickled with goose flesh, there was nothing there, but I felt the phantom fingers drag across my arms.
I tried to curl into myself, but the most I could do was pull my shoulders up to my ears and squirm in my chair. I heard myself whimper, completely submerged in my hysteria, but suddenly I hear a scream that wasn't my own.
My eyes locked with John's as I heard him shout my name again. I felt myself stop breathing, and I focused again. The Chinese woman was talking to John, she thinks he's Sherlock.
I watched her, she reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his wallet. My hearing was still fuzzy, so I couldn't understand anything, but I did when she pulled a gun.
My eyes widened and I held my breath, she pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. I let out a shaky breath, but my relief was short lived. One of the henchmen pulled a sheet off of a rather large something, and it turned out to be the large crossbow from the performance. Then they picked up Sarah in her chair, and placed her in front of the bow.
My breathing picked up a pace as she started to mockingly put on a show, and I watched helplessly as John struggled harder. I tried to concentrate on getting out of my binds as well, rather than delving back into my hysteria.
Just as it seemed like we would lose Sarah, John ]shouted, "I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"
"I don't believe you," Shan spat angrily in return. I inhaled a shaky breath just as Sherlock's voice echoed loudly around us, "You should, you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."
Shan spun, cocked her gun, and aimed down the tunnel, "How would you describe me, John?"
I started to calm, the tears still flowed, but John sighed with relief as Sherlock continued to talk, "Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"
One of Shan's goons ran toward Sherlock's voice as John said, "Late?"
"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over 1,000 meters per second." Sherlock, smarting off even in this situation?
"Well?" Was Shan's reply, perhaps she didn't connect the dots.
"Well…" Sherlock began again after taking out the goon, "... the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."
It turned out his speech was to stall for time, as he finished speaking, he ran up and knocked over the barrel of fire, darkening the tunnel even more. I could only hear the sound of rushing footsteps, but vaguely I saw, most likely Sherlock, crouch behind Sarah. As Sherlock tried to untie her, he was attacked, they struggled, and John became desperate as the wight lowered more.
John stood still tied to the chair and tried to hop as much as he could to get to the crossbow, but he fell, and just as the weight dropped… John was able to kick the crossbow aim to the side, and impaled Sherlock's assailant.
As Sherlock recovered from a choke hold, Shan ran off, and Sherlock surprised me by staying. I imagined now that we were fine, capturing Shan would be the most important thing….
He turned and crouched in front of Sarah, "It's alright," he began again untying her.
"You're going to be alright. It's over now."
John tried to joke, "Don't worry. Next date won't be like this," But it sounded more like a sad comfort.
She was sobbing as she started at John, my heart was breaking for her, and I realized I'd begun shaking. Sherlock quickly undid John's torso and wrists, and left him to untie his own feet.
Then Sherlock was suddenly in front of me, he grasped the sides of my face and made me look at him, "Breath." Was all he said. I wanted to argue with him, I wanted to tell him, "I can't." But his eyes had captivated me, and somehow I did as he compelled.
He nodded and then began untying me, first the gag, then my torso, my feet, and then my hands. As the last rope dropped, I leaped at him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I'd stopped crying, but I was shaking from the stress of it.
His arms wrapped around my torso in a tight embraced, and I felt my body take a deep breath of its own accord. I pulled away from the embrace, knowing he must be uncomfortable, and gave a sorry excuse for a reassuring smile. He nodded with a frown as he stood, and grabbed my hand, to make sure I followed.
As I stood, my legs momentarily gave out, Sherlock caught me, and as he supported me, I pushed him away. I gave my non-reassuring smile to his deeper frown, and merely held his hand as we walked.
As we walked to the exit of the tunnel, it seemed the cops had finally arrived, so I walked closer to Sherlock's side. John steered Sarah to one of the officers, and got her a shock blanket. I denied one, we continued walking, but stopped to talk to Dimmock.
Sherlock spoke as if I wasn't now clinging to his side, "We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report."
Dimmock tried to argue, "Mr. Holmes…" Sherlock spoke over him, "I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career."
"I go where you point me." Dimmock spoke reluctantly, as he accepted finally, the enigma that is Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock removed my hand from his, difficulty, and wrapped his arm around me. "Exactly." He said as he steered us away finally.
John and Sarah had already gotten a cab, presumably because they were going to her place, and so it would just Sherlock and I in the cab going home. I got in first, and he ducked in behind as he fired off the address.
I huddled by the window, staring vacantly out, still shivering, but now from the cold. "Could you turn up the heat please?" Sherlock spoke to the cabbie driver, then me, "Come here."
I frowned at him as he forced his scarf around my neck, then dragged me into his arms, against his chest, and wrapped what he could of his jacket around me.
"Should have gotten that blanket at least to warm yourself" He spoke as if irritated. Yet, with his arms around me, rather than tensing, I relaxed, and letting the warmth seep into me, I pressed my forehead against his neck. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and lost myself trying to figure out what kind of cologne Sherlock was wearing.
Sherlock gently shook me as the cab came to a stop, hopefully at 221B, and he paid the driver as I mindlessly climbed out of the cab. I was immediately shivering again, the only part of me warm, was the small of my back where Sherlock's hand rested as he pushed me through the door.
I veered slightly, to go to my flat, but Sherlock steered me up the stairs. "Not tonight." Was all he staid, and I knew he understood, and I hoped it was because he cared. A girl can hope right? Right?
We reached the top of the landing and he continued to push me down the hall and into his bathroom. "Shower, it'll help."
He stood there staring at me, probably waiting for a confirmation, but the request wasn't processing in my mind. Sherlock sighed heavily, took a step towards me, but then pause. His eyes connected with mine, I knew what he was asking, but I wanted to see what he would do.
As if sensing my challenge, his hands rose and grasped the bottom of my filthy pink tank top, and I lifted my arms as he removed it for me. Now I stood standing in only my bra and shorts, still staring at him with a blank face, unsure if I actually felt anything in this moment as I watched for his reaction.
He continued. He tossed the top out the door, then tucked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, and suddenly he froze. Although he didn't show it, I knew he just realized the slowness of his moves, were a little… sensual.
He jolted as if shocked and I almost lost my balance as he yanked my shorts down, pushed me into the shower, and turned it on. I was shocked myself by the water, and distracted as I fumbled to fix the temperature to as hot as possible. I heard the bathroom door slam shut, and after I confirmed that he wasn't with me, I removed my now soaked undergarments.
I sighed and tilted my head back, letting the water hit me right in the face. I took a big deep breath before exhaling it slowly, and repeated until I felt myself come back to earth. I tried to process all that had happened, but felt suddenly like that wasn't a good idea. So, instead I tried to think of what Sherlock had just done. Taking my clothes off me….was it sensual or was it that he was treating me like an invalid? Or-
Suddenly, I heard a violin right outside the door.
I turned off the water and listened, the music then drifted away and towards the living room. I glanced around for a towel and similarly found Sherlock had at some point shoved some clothing through the door.
I dried and stared at the pile of clothing, and then dressed in what Sherlock had chosen for me. It seemed he'd been able to choose a plain pair of black undergarments and a pair of black shorts of mine, but he didn't give me one of my shirts. He's given me his purple one.
I paused and stared at it, contemplating refusing, but I made myself not think about it. Once I was dressed, I left the bathroom and followed the music from the violin. I found him in the living room, and he stopped as soon as he noticed me.
"Feeling better then?" Sherlock spoke, and in answer I only shrugged a shoulder.
I raised an eyebrow as I saw his eyes roam me from bottom to top, and linger on his shirt. He skipped looking me in the eyes and instead sprung from the chair saying, "Tea?"
I didn't bother with responding, since his back was to me, and I figured he'd make and bring it regardless. So I chose to grab the blanket from the couch, curl up in John's chair, and get comfortable for the time being.
As I sat there, I realized Aunt H most likely cleaned up in here after we were taken. My book was perched on the arm table, the blanket had been folded on the back of the couch before I got to it, and nothing was otherwise knocked over.
I sighed as Sherlock floated in and handed me a warm cup of Chamomile, I brought my knees to my chest and simply held the tea under my nose, and relaxed with the warm aroma. I closed my eyes lazily, but opened them when I felt another pair of eyes on me.
I raised an eyebrow, but he chose to ignore my body language, and started a sort of staring contest with me. I wasn't surprised, he was Sherlock the Enigma, after all. So, I frowned and suddenly felt like making funny faces at him.
He shook his head and frowned while saying, "What are you doing?"
I shrugged my shoulders and went back to sipping my tea.
