The warehouse was dark, not that it needed to be. Maelin could smell the cleanliness of the place. She had been blindfolded upon getting into the town car, her hands bound behind her once they reached the destination, and now her feet were bound as well. Kneeling on the cool concrete, she sighed at the approach of footsteps.

"This is quite old fashioned of you," she said as the steps closed in on her. There was another man here, the man who had bound her feet and hands, but he remained silent. Even Maelin's sensitive ears could not pinpoint his location. Either he took his shoes off or he was exceptionally well trained in silent maneuvers. Possibly both.

"Well, sometimes you just want to break out the classics for a special occasion."

Moriarty's voice did not echo as she thought it would in this cavernous room.

"Good insulation, too," she mused. "Now I'm concerned."

He laughed, which didn't help her concern.

"No need, dear. I mean, I am going to hurt you," he said as he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "But it's not your physical pain I'm really interested. Not this time."

Maelin swallowed. "Jim-"

"Not now. Daddy's talking. We've discussed what I want you to do for me, to help little Sherlock on his journey to the ultimate fall. You're clear on that mission, I know. But I'm not in a patient mood right now, so I thought I'd speed things along a bit. So you give this message to Sherlock, and do one more little thing for me."

He leaned close and whispered in her ear. Maelin closed her eyes willing herself to remain calm, but she could feel her body trembling.

"Now," Moriarty said as he moved around her. "Tom here is going to help you hold still while I compose my message. Be a good girl and we'll even give you a ride back to the flat."

Strong arms gripped her shoulders and lifted her shirt off her back. She made to struggle but was caged in by powerful legs.

"What are you going to do, whip me?"

"Not quite," Moriarty chuckled. "I wish I was that precise with a whip. Hmmm… something to keep in mind for the future. Thanks, love." He kissed her cheek, and in the instant before the pain began, Maelin tried to relax her muscles.

It didn't help. The first few cuts were deep and she gasped. The other cuts were fast and sharp, and tears streamed down her face, though the physical pain wasn't what made them flow. It was the gleeful sound he made each time he slashed at her which cause Maelin to break down. When he was done, he gave a breathless sigh.

"Not my best work, but it'll do. And you were an excellent patient. Top marks. Still, can't have you bleeding all over the car on your way back. A cloth soaked in some type of antiseptic was placed on her back, and Maelin released her one cry of anguish. When it was removed, her shirt moved to cover her back again and the strong hands released her. She fell forward and Moriarty caught her.

"Now remember what I told you, and give this message to Sherlock with my love, alright?"

His lips pressed to hers and before she could think to reply, she was hoisted up and folded over the shoulder of the silent man.

"Until next time, darling," Moriarty called as she was carried out of the room and she knew he was waving her goodbye.

She was placed in the car, still bound, facedown across the back seat. Her bonds were cut just as she was planted outside the Baker St. flat to haul herself up the stairs to Sherlock and John.

When Maelin related the tale to Sherlock, she omitted telling him about Moriarty's extra message, whispered conspiratorially in her ear. She trusted Sherlock now, but that part of her mission wasn't about trust. After telling Sherlock (almost) everything, Maelin wiped off a few tears with the back of her hand.

She shifted to sit back, out of habit, and Sherlock caught her by the shoulders. She flinched, then fell forward into him. She felt his heart pounding against her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I should have let him end me before ever bringing you into this."

Sherlock lifted her head up by the chin. His look was stern, uncompromising.

"Do not ever say anything like that, not ever again."

"Sherlock-"

"Not ever again. Please."

Maelin nodded. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Now what?" She asked as she pulled back.

"I need to think," Sherlock said, his gaze already retreating within himself. "John should be back soon."

"Mrs. Hudson left food."

"I'll eat a bit," he said, standing up and offering his hand.

Maelin shook her head. "I need a minute. We'll talk when John's back."

Sherlock gave a single nod and left the room. She heard him take a plate and tea cup with saucer from the tray and then settle in his chair. He had placed a case with some of her things on the kitchen table. She came out of the room and pulled it off, nodding her thanks. Sherlock didn't acknowledge it; he was already deep in his head.

After setting the case on Sherlock's bed, Maelin reemerged and went to the breakfast tray. She grabbed the teapot and strainer, walked over to the small side table beside Sherlock's chair, and poured him a cup. Once she had finished, she went back to the kitchen to do the same for herself. She heard Sherlock take a sip of tea and turned to see him holding the cup delicately between his fingers, his eyes still miles within, and she smiled.