Stuck on the puzzle
I own nothing but the oc
St Barts was more morbid then ever, the cold sterile hallways stretching into an abyss. In the morgue it was deadly silent, the kind of silent that makes its own noise and rings in your ears like white noise of its own kind. She looked the window to the morgue before Mycroft was there, standing over what Ramona could assume was Irene's body.
"You shouldn't come in." Sherlock said from behind her. She turned around to face him. "They only need me to identify her."
"I'm going in."
"Don't."
Ramona opens the door. "Too late." Her words don't match her face.
Molly's standing over the body. "The face is a bit smashed up so it might be difficult to see..." She lifts up the sheet and Ramona suppresses the primal urge to scream and cry and be hysterical or at least look away, but she doesn't.
"Show me the rest of her." Says Sherlock grimly. Molly pulls back more of the sheet.
"That's her." Confirms Ramona, she then paces out of the room followed by Sherlock. She looks out the window, watching the snowfall that seemed oblivious to a tragedy.
Sherlock looks out of the window beside her, and she looks up to study him. She could tell that he was in as much pain as she was, but was hiding it much better. He stays completely still, studying each snowflake critically with his eyes that seemed to change colour everyday. SHe looked back out at the snow. It was peaceful, and so quiet, and so still. She realised she wanted to comfort him somehow, maybe even hold his hand, but she knows that she doesn't know how, when she couldn't even comfort herself. Footsteps and the tap of an umbrella are heard behind them, but they don't bother to turn around. a hand comes over their shoulders, holding two cigarettes.
"Just the one?"
"Why?" Asks Sherlock coldly.
"Merry Christmas." Replies Mycroft.
To Ramona's dismay Sherlock takes a cigarette, and she takes one hesitantly, watching him carefully. "Smoking indoors- isn't there one of those... law things?" Mycroft lights the trios cigarettes.
"We're in a morgue- there's only so much damage you can do." Sherlock inhales deeply and then blows smoke out. Mycroft turns to Ramona.
"How did you know she was dead?"
"She had an item that she once said her life depended on. She chose to give that item up." She takes a drag of her cigarette.
"And where is this item now?" Suddenly the girl hears sobbing, and she spots a family of three at the end of the corridor on the other side of the doors, grieving. Her heart heaves for them. No on should have to outlive their children. The three turn to watch them.
"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?" But Ramona knew there was nothing wrong with Sherlock. He was upset. No matter how much he insisted on being a sociopath, Ramona realised it was a delusional diagnosis. He cared about too many people, no matter what he said.
" All lives end. All hearts are broken." He looks to his brother. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." Ramona felt a strange, transparent truth in these words. She loved them. Ramona releases another lungful of smoke into the air and shares a look of disgust with Sherlock, looking down at the cigarettes and then to each other. Low tar.
Mycroft clocks this. "Well, you did both barely know her." She felt a strange liking to this man, he cared about his brother, no matter how cold they both were. The Holmes brothers were a strange pair. She could only wonder about their parents...
"Merry Christmas, Mycroft." Sherlock begins to walk away and she follows him. He's obviously shaken.
"And a happy new year." She hears Mycroft's voice behind her as the swing the doors open.
Before they go in, she hands the phone to Sherlock, insisting he take care of it. Ramona enters 221B before Sherlock. He stops in the doorway of the living room, his eyes scanning.
"Oh, hi." Said John. Sherlock stays silent as his eyes roam the living room. Ramona realises what's happened at the flat. A drugs search in his own home. Who wouldn't be angry? But then again, John only wanted to protect him. Just as everyone else did in Sherlock's life. Maybe she did?
"Hope you didn't Mess up my sock index this time." He storms past her off to his room, slamming the door behind him. John puts down his book and sighs heavily.
"How bad was it?" He asks her.
"For me? Very. For Sherlock Holmes? Who could ever tell?" John nods. Ramona wishes she could follow him and do something for him, but she didn't know what.
"Merry Christmas, Ramona." John gives a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Merry Christmas, John." She leaves and goes to her apartment, where she spends the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, restlessly thinking about the man downstairs, and how she cared for him too much.
Ramona woke up alone in her apartment, and definitely felt the missing presence of Hannah. She wanted nothing more to call her about what had happened, but she couldn't bring herself to ruin her best friends holiday, with her insufferable boyfriend. She makes her way down to the ground floor, where Mrs Hudson's scrubbing away with a pink bucket full of cleaning products. Ramona instantly felt crippling guilt. It was becoming too commonplace in her life.
"Can I do that for you?" She asked softly. The woman instantly looked up, shocked and almost insulted.
"Oh Ramona, why would you want to do that dear?" the girl smiled and picked up a sponge to clean the sideboards.
"I've already started now, go out and get some me time or whatever they call it." Ramona smiled at the thankful woman, who stood up, and after a hug, left. Ramona cleaned for about ten minutes, until the Americans arrived again. Ramona's eyes widened and she quickly tried to scramble past them into the street, until they grabbed her and she kicked off. She used everything she could to get the hands off her, biting, scratching, and leaving warning signs for Sherlock in the hallway. She figured they were such idiots they wouldn't realise what she was doing. They forced their way into Sherlock's flat and tied her to a wooden chair. They quickly started interrogating her about the phone, and she hadn't the foggiest as to where he'd put it.
"Now I'm going to ask you a simple question, Miss Doherty." He gestured for one of his boys to slip on brass knuckles. "Where is Irene Adler's camera phone."
She tried to look disinterested, unphased. "I don't know, and frankly, don't care." She shrugged.
"I don't think you understand your situation. My boys here, can kill a man with one finger." Ramona rolled her eyes at the man, and his futile attempts to scare her. "And every time you answer with something I do not like, they ensure I like the outcome." Ramona sighed.
"I told you, I don't know. If I did I'm sure I'd be quaking in my boo-" Her sentence was cut off by a silver ring cutting into her cheek.
"If you could let me finish, I'm sure you would be much more enlightened on this subject. If I knew, I would tell you." She lied. "I'm a twenty two year old woman, do you think I'm going to risk something like this for some stupid camera phone I know nothing about?" Another lie. "the fact is, the most important thing I've got going on right now, is my finals, boys, and parties." More lies.
"Nice try. Why were you at Miss Adler;s house if any of that you said is true?"
"I got roped in, I don't know, it's the government and stuff. They're always making mis-" Two punches this time, and she tasted blood in her mouth. "That's going to get really annoying, please, let me finish!"
"No. I'm going to ask you where it is. Every time you reply with a lie, you'll get hurt." Ramona sighed and leaned back. She was in for the long haul it seemed. "Look, I don't know why you think I know bu-" Another punch into her gut, harder than the others. the brass knuckles had winded her and ripped her top. Her favourite top. "Oh for gods sake." She said under her breath as she tried to regain it. Over the next half hour, her arms became numb from being tied in an awkward position, and she was pretty sure the men themselves were tired. It was also fair to say she looked a mess. In spite of her first calmness, she was starting to panic. They'll eventually get tired of me. Then what. Kill me? Something worse? Oh god... In sight of all these thoughts, she started to cry, hard. The men became more uncomfortable then when they had been beating her up, which Ramona found extremely ironic and typical. They untied her and let her go to a bedroom for a cry. She then realised she could probably search for it whist they thought this. They closed the door behind her and she watched it close, and then saw his dressing gown hung on the back, with an print of a small rectangle in the pocket. She shook her head. Idiot. She decided the safest place for it would be in her bra, as inappropriate as it was. Her interrogation began quickly again, and it wasn't long until she was swallowing blood, had two black eyes, cuts on her face and bottom lip, which had bust, and she was certain a few bruises on her stomach, and heavy purple and green ones on her wrists. For the first time in a long time, she felt frightened. She hung her head forward, tasting rust as blood rushed over her tongue. making her feel sick. Suddenly they heard the door downstairs, and footsteps, in the right gait to be Sherlock. He has to spot the clues. He has to. Suddenly he was running up the stairs. Ramona suddenly, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, became very self conscious of her appearance. She was glad of her hair hanging in front of her bloodshot eyes. She heard his leather clad hand on the door handle, and then extreme relief.
"Sherlock..." She realised her voice is raspy, and that her breath was struggling to hold back whimpers of pain, and that she felt helpless. Blind rage set harder onto the detective's face, only softening to look at her.
"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes."
"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock walks towards Ramona and crouches, putting a hand to the side of her face, she relaxed instantly. He looked concerned, as he analyses her state, looking at the bruises on her wrists. She sighed tiredly as he tucked her hair behind her ears gently and gave her a small smile.
"We've been asking her, but she doesn't seem to know anything." Ramona rolled her eyes at this.
"That's what I've been trying to bloody tell you!" Her voice is hoarse, and Sherlock gives her a luck that says 'don't push your luck'.
Neilson ignores the beaten girl. "But you know what we're looking for, don't you, Mr Holmes."
The detective glares up at the man. "I believe I do." he walks backwards and puts his hands behind his back. "First, get rid of your boys."
"Why?"
"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room."
"You two, go to the car."
"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." Ramonas stomach churns with anxiety. The two men leave the room and she hears the car start and drive away.
"Next, stop pointing that gun at me."
"What, so you can point a gun at me?"
Sherlock's eyes narrow with hostility as he steps back and spreads his arms out. "I'm unarmed."
"Mind if I check?"
"Oh, I insist." Ramona didn't like the feeling that these lines could definitely be in a porno. Neilson waks past her and she has the strong urge to trip him up, as he makes his way to Sherlock and pats down his breast pockets and then moves behind him, suddenly, Sherlock winks at her and before she can comprehend what's happening, he elbows him and spins round, punching him in the gut and with so much speed, he has him up by the neck against the wall, and Ramona actually feels scared for Neilson, she can see Sherlock's knuckles turning white.
"Don't. You. Dare. Touch. Her. Ever. Again." Sherlock spits at him through gritted teeth, before throwing him on the ground, rendering the American unconscious next to his coffee table. He pulls his gloves off and runs back to her and falls on his knees, untying her.
"Are you alright?" He looks over her face with concerned eyes and holds her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him.
"I'm... alright, I'm fine." She gets up from the chair and he stands up, towering over her.
Sherlock's brows furrow. "Are you sure?" He looks intensely into her eyes, but she doesnt feel uncomfortable now, as her eyes begin to fill up.
"I- I just, I was, I'm just a bit shaken." Her voice shakes on the last, her voice betraying her again, as his eyes widen and he pulls her into his chest, shocking her, as she tried to hold back sobs.
"It's alright, you're alright now." He said in hushed breath slowed and returned back to its natural state, but they still stayed like that until Ramona remembered the unconscious American on the floor.
"Uh, Sherlock?"
"Yes?" He replies gently, starting to stroke her hair.
"what are we going to do with... him." She pulled out of the hug slightly and looked up at him, he released her and his expression turned stony, almost malicious, as he turned to look at Neilson's limp form.
"Something bad, Ramona." He said grimly, smiling at the girl.
Nielson was tied up by the time Ramona got back from her flat after having a wash. She went and sat on the sofa, still trembling. She then realises the american has a black eye and a broken nose. Her eyes widen at the gagged mans state, and at Sherlock's hand wrapped around his pistol, pointing at him.
"Ramona?" He was sat in his leather chair, in a dominating position, his hands sprawled across the ends of the armrests. Ramona felt strangely more safe when he did this. She pulled a confused look at herself. Why do I have these kind of feelings around him? It's not like I'm... Am I attracted to him? I can't be. Not me. Not him. Please tell me I don't fancy him. He'll find out straight away. I'm so done for if- "Ramona?" She snapped out of her track of thought, making her jump. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, I was daydreaming. What was it?"
Sherlock smirked. "About me, I'm guessing." He said playfully.
Ramona's eyes widened and she looked down, trying to avoid him seeing her blush. She slowly looked up, feeling the heat from her cheeks fade. "I- You wish." She smirked back. He smiled.
"I was wondering if you took the phone, I can't find where I put it."
She went red. Sherlock looked confused. "What is it?"
"Erm, I took it out of your dressing gown when they thought I was having a cry in your bedroom." She slowly reaches down the front of her top and pulls it from her bra, embarrassed.
Sherlock stayed silent and then cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Well done." He looked away to the gagged American. She raised an eyebrow.
"Figured out the password for this thing yet?"
"No, haven't got a clue."
"I don't think we ever will."
He looked down at the floor. "No."
The air was thick with unsaid words as John bust in the door. Sherlock started dialing something and held his phone to his ear.
"What's going on?" He sees Neilson. "Jesus, whats happened?"
"Ramona was attacked by an american, I'm restoring order to the world." John immediately goes and sits next to her, analysing the state of her face. She frowns.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" He asks,concerned.
"Is it that bad?"
"I'm afraid so." Ramona cringes at this.
"People are going to think I got into a fight or something." She pouts. John chuckles and puts a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"Well I'm going to think you're tough. Seriously, how are you so calm?"
She shrugs. "Not that bad. I'm sure people have had worse." John and Sherlock frown.
"I think you should let me take a look at your cuts." She realises how much they're stinging, and that her eyes are watering with pain.
"They're fine, doctor Watson. But thanks." They both laugh and Sherlock scowls and looks away. John and Ramona share a confused look.
"Are you gonna tell me whats going on, Sherlock?" The detective turns round to answer, but before he can, he's interrupted by Ramona.
She shoots up off the couch and winces for a second at the pain, and decides to go a lot slower. "Shit!"
"What is it?" Asks John.
"Mrs Hudson! She can't know about this!"
"What?"
"If i hadn't done the cleaning for her, it would of been her in this situation." Horror filled her face. "She'll blame herself. I need to put away the cleaning things." She tried to run but the pain in her stomach was unbearable, she caught herself on the doorway, breathing deeply. John quickly went to help her get down the stairs. Ramona picked the pink bucket up and took it into Mrs Hudson's flat. Seconds later a body came flying from above. Ramona jumped back at the sudden noise, shared a look with John, and started in hysterics with him.
"How passive aggressive." She smiled at him.
He chuckled. "Hey, have you noticed Sherlock whenever we're laughing together?"
"I- Now that you say that, yeah, I have."
"Do you think, that maybe, he's... You know... Jealous?"
Ramona pulls a confused look. "Of me or you?" She smirks.
"I'm serious. I've seen the way he looks at you."
"What?"
"Well-" He's interrupted by Mrs Hudson coming in through the door.
"What are you two doing here?"
"John was just helping me-"
"Oh dear, whats happened to you?" She inspects the girls face.
"I had a fight with a robber." She shared a look with John.
"What?!"
"Sherlock and John got broken into. They didn't count on me being there." She smiled sweetly, although this was furthest from the truth. "You should see him."
"Ramona Doherty! They could have been armed!"
"He was." She smirked. Mrs Hudson looked suddenly come into earshot, slowly growing in volume.
Sherlock, John and Ramona sit in 221B. She hadn't felt like going out with Ellie and Amber, especially with the state of her face. John fixes himself a drink and Ramona doesn't blame her. She spots a small, silver wrapped box but says nothing, and realises that Sherlock must of opened her present, as it no longer under the tree. She frowns at his lack of... well, anything.
"I still can't believe you aren't in shock."
"It's not that shocking. We're in the possession of some very sensitive material, its obviously going to be dangerous." She looks down at the fireplace. Sherlock picks his violin and tunes it.
"I need to tell you both. Irene's alive."
Their heads both snap up, and then look at each other in unison. Ramona mostly feels relief for Sherlock, but for some reason, dread lingers in her stomach.
"Oh my god." She remarks. He looks back down at his violin, trying to remain disinterested.
"It doesn't really matter, we wont be seeing her again." Sherlock puts down his violin. Johns eyes widen.
"I've forgotten my phone at Mrs Hudson's. Won't be long." He leaves the flat.
Ramona walks over the the window next to Sherlock, watch the snow fall serenely, creating a white city. She had to admit it was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Sherl- Shut up! She realises hes watching her, and looks up to meet his gaze. The detective picks up the silver wrapped box and hands it to her, confusing her.
"It's for you."
She smiles at it and looks up again. "Please don't tell me there's one of your ears in here." He chuckles.
"Unfortunately, no. I thought I would get something of more use to you."
She unwraps it carefully, to reveal a black box. What was she expecting? She lifted up the lid and in it was a big magnifying glass, beautiful in its own right. She beamed up at him.
His eyes widen at her expression, as he was adorably flustered by her happiness at his gift. "seeing as your definitely cut out for the job of a detective, I thought maybe, this would suit."
"Thank you." He looks away, as Big Ben starts to chime. She studies his profile, his blue eyes, his nose, his black hair, and realised how gorgeous he was in the light of the streetlamp outside. She felt a twisting feeling in her chest. They look out of the window together, and Ramona thinks she can feel the magnetism from Sherlock's hands to hers, so she glues it to her side.
He turns back to her, his look intense and his guard down. "Happy new year, Ramona."
Before she knows whats happening, he has a hand on her waist, and one on the side of her face, and they're both leaning in. Time seems to slow to a halt around the pair as eyes are closed,and she realises this is what she's been wanting since she got here. She feels their pulses start to race each other and just as they're an inch apart, John bursts into the room. They both come back to their senses and Sherlock takes quick steps away from her, his eyes wide, shocked at himself. Ramona looks out of the window, embarrassed. Did I almost kiss Sherlock Holmes? Was he going to kiss me? Sherlock? I fancy him, maybe a bit too much. This is going to get weird.
"Sorry I took so long, I-" John clocks the atmosphere in the room. "Did I miss something?"
I Feel a bit evil for interrupting that :)
This was very cute, I love writing cute Sherlock, sorry if it was a bit ooc but he has a soft spot for her aw
Thanks for reading, please review!