(A/N): I'm terribly sorry for taking so incredibly long time to update, but I have been plagued by a writer's block the size of Utah, and had I not had the good fortune of having a frenzied beta armed with a pointed stick, I probably would have given up by now. So thank you very much for the advice, beta-ing and death threats TheThiefsDaughter ^^,

CHAPTER 10 ~ SHADOWY SILENCE ~

Day two

Thea ~ Saturday 18th of October 1890 ~ sometime during the day

Julia's head rests on my shoulder. She is still asleep. I stroke her hair absentmindedly. I take a close look at her – This is the first time I'm able to make out more about her than just her silhouette (maybe my eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness?) Her face is youthful, and even though I know that she is around my age, she looks like she's much younger than her years as she unconsciously scoots closer to me. She has bags under her eyes, and even in her sleep her brow is furrowed. She trusts me completely (even though she has only known me for a couple of hours) but she's still scared out of her wits for what is to come. Like me, my mind adds.

She has – or had, more like – a long mane of blond hair (it has become quite discoloured from dirt and lack of care. As I inspect her hair closer, I even think I see some streaks of silver.) Her dress is dirty and torn at the hemline. I feel a strange mingling of pity and respect for this girl. She has already been through so much!

I wonder what day it is now. The ad in the Agony Column said she'd be "bailed out" the 19th. Doubt begins to enter my mind: Will I be able to cope without her? What will I do when she's gone?

She is still asleep and leaves me with nothing else to do but dwell on dark thoughts in the shadowy silence.

Holmes

Mrs. Hudson – who has not deigned to speak a single word to me ever since she discovered the empty state of the guestroom yesterday – angrily, yet gracefully, opens the living room door whilst balancing a silver tray.

The woman glares daggers at me, but silently hands me a note from my brother Mycroft.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," I say in a polite – albeit slightly exhausted – tone. The housekeeper huffs indignantly.

"Dear Sherlock," the note says.
"My men have discovered that the shipping company Morton is owned by a Mr. Robin Hadley, a previous common merchant who has established quite a personal fortune by trading in the West Indies. It seems the old man has recently retired and let his nephew, Mr. Andrew Hadley take care of his company. The younger Hadley is believed to possess a vast gambling debt, which – according to my men's report – as of yet is a fact still unknown to his uncle.
I wish you – as always – a fruitful hunt.
Mycroft."

In the nooks and crannies of my mind, I connect the information, and sense a well-known pattern forming. Gambling, extortion, kidnapping; all acts of crime carefully planned and thought out by a brilliant criminal mind. Actually, a very specific brilliant criminal mind.

I grind my teeth and curse under my breath.

Thea

At some point, that feels like many hours later, I hear heavy footsteps outside the door. Thump, thump. Suddenly the door opens and light floods in. I shield my eyes from the brightness with my arm. As I take down the arm, I see a dark shadow outlined against light. It approaches us and I can feel my body tremble with fear. My tremor awakens Julia, who screams as she notices the Shade is bending over her. It places a hand over her mouth, grabs her hair and drags her out of the room. I look after them with a scream lodged in my throat. I wonder if I'll ever see her again. I cannot make myself move as I am paralyzed with terror.

Holmes

I rummage through my room in search of the shaggy pair of shoes I recall discarding in a heap of costumes on the floor, after the successful conclusion of the McPherson-case.

Ah! There they are!

I am looking out of the bedroom window as I notice a familiar figure making his way down Baker Street. I retreat to the living room and seat myself in a comfy chair, ready to receive him and hear the news he brings.

Mrs. Hudson shows him in. I ask him to be seated but he refuses.

"Mr. Holmes," nods the Inspector in greeting. "Lestrade. Has there been any development?" I ask patiently.

The Scotland Yard inspector frets slightly but continues after a moment of hesitation.

"Miss Ashton has just regained consciousness this morning and has given her statement. There are some quite important points that I felt compelled to share with you," he says seriously. Silently I urge him to continue.

"Miss Ashton has been raped."