It was sunlight that woke her. She didn't want to move so she stayed where she was. She was well aware of where she was and she knew exactly what had happened the night before. Her entire body was heavy and she was sure it was not just from the medicine he had provided her with after breaking her apart. She knew this feeling all too well. She was crying silent tears that wouldn't stop.

It was shame over her own emotions and so many memories she had worked hard on supressing over the years rising to the surface like the bubbles on a lake stemming from rotten unmentionables on the bottom.

Sherlock's and her words were repeated inside her mind like a broken record and she couldn't stop it revolving no matter how hard she tried.

"Mira?" the door opened slowly about an hour after she woke and John stepped in. "I heard what happened last night, do you need to talk about it?" he put a cup of tea on the night stand. She didn't move she just looked at him.

"What is wrong with him" even speaking seemed strenuous.

"He likes to say he's a high functioning sociopath but he's also got Asperger's I think. Sometimes he doesn't know what he's saying can do to people" John crouched down to look her in the eye as he apologized for his friend's behaviour.

"But he always has his reasons, right?" she dried her eyes with the back of her hand and John nodded.

"Usually he does"

"That's good" she sniffled.

"Feel like getting up? Maybe have that cuppa and meet us in the sitting room?" John offered. She nodded and slowly she sat herself up. She straightened her back and both of them heard uncomfortably loud sound of her bones cracking. She grabbed the tea with both hands and drank it quickly barely aware that it was piping hot.

When she left Sherlock's bedroom she could hear the two men talking in hushed voices; clearly it was about her and they did stop as soon as they heard her come in; She wasn't that stupid. She sat down on the leather sofa and forced herself to look at Sherlock.

"Sorry for last night" she told him and coughed. She had accepted the fact that she would never hear that from him.

"Don't worry" he brushed it off.

"Mind if I go home now?" she asked of him. "I'm feeling much better now" she sat on her right hand that was twitching nervously. Hoping the knowing eyes of the detective wouldn't catch it.

"John?" Sherlock looked to him and gestured towards the young woman.

"How do you feel, honestly?" John looked at her. "You seem a little depressed" the doctor spoke.

"I am not suicidal" was her answer. Sherlock raised his brow. "I just want to sleep in my own bed, I need peace".

"Do you think so?" The way doctor Watson was looking at her she was certain she was being assessed.

"Yes, the worst thing that could happen to me would be a little cut, I wouldn't just off myself" she glared at him and carelessly ran a finger across her scarred arm.

"I wouldn't even want you to do that; Mira don't you think you need help?" John seemed genuinely nervous and worried for her.

"I've had help. Please can I leave?" she looked at Sherlock now with wide eyes; practically begging. He nodded attentively.

"I'll text you" Sherlock let her know. She went to the bathroom and tried to save some of her looks and dignity before she left Baker Street.

She slept for an entire day when she got home; when she got up she practically emptied her fridge and binged. She returned to bed without clearing her plates away and fell asleep soon after. She had no energy and she could barely muster a thought at all. Thank goodness.

Half asleep she grabbed the phone when a text came through.

"Come quickly. Need corpse -SH" it said and she crawled out of bed, took a shower and even though she knew he would see straight through her she used makeup to hide her puffy eyes. In what might have been a subconscious attempt to procrastinate she chose to walk.

She knocked and Mrs. Hudson opened with a smile.

"Oh hello again dear, feeling better?". Mira nodded but sneezed into her sleeve in the same moment.

"So sorry!" She apologized to the elderly woman.

"Better get in then; the boys are upstairs" she pointed at the stairs still smiling.

Mira made it up the stairs and smiled at both of them as they sat there; in their respective chairs like always.

She nearly fell asleep as she lay there slowing her heartbeat and looking peaceful. She barely heard a word of what they talked about and she certainly couldn't remember it afterwards. Something about a diamond lodged in the throat? Coins on the eyes?

She stirred when Sherlock ran his thumb over one of her deeper scars on her left forearm.

"Wake up" he whispered to her and she opened her eyes. She yawned and gasped for air.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to" she closed her eyes and got on her feet. She invited herself to sit on the couch.

"Tell me about Denmark" Sherlock sat down in his chair. She was absentmindedly playing with the very scar he had traced with his soft thumb.

"Boring country I guess, very Scandinavian and cold. The weather too" she shrugged her shoulder and tried to stay unaffected.

"And London seemed warmer?" Sherlock chuckled. John sat in his own chair too.

"More interesting at least".

"You're sure you weren't hoping to find something specific here in England? Or someone?" Sherlock inquired. She got on her feet.

"This is not why I'm here, you needed a corpse and I gave you that" She looked towards the door. Her way out.

"Sherlock" John tried to stop him.

"You also gave me your blood and allowed me to spank you with a riding crop; you give me anything I ask of you. Why not this?" He got on his feet as well. She swallowed hard.

"Because it hurts too much" She admitted and took a step closer to the door.

"Hurts? You love pain" he shook his head smiling.

"Physical pain, yes." She dug her long fingernail into the pale skin on her arm. "Best thing in the world" she smiled too. "… I think I should stop this". Her feet shuffled against the floorboards and she took a heavy breath.

"Stop?" Sherlock actually seemed confused.

"This" she flapped her hands about "It's not healthy for me. You can find someone else to experiment on I'm sure" she took yet another step towards the door.

"No" his hands balled into fists as his voice grew stern. "You're not going anywhere; Mira you need this"

"Sherlock, maybe you should let her" John said hesitantly

"Shut up John!" Sherlock yelled. Mira froze completely for several seconds. As did Sherlock now.

She suddenly held a rusty razorblade to her own throat. Sherlock's face was turning as white as a sheet. John was sat there staring with his mouth open.

"Leave me alone, now" she barely shivered.

"Mira…" Sherlock swallowed hard. He had not expected this and never noticed the blade. Which was bugging him most of all.

"Goodbye Mr. Holmes" she said as she put the razor back in her pocket and walked out of there, slamming the door shut behind her.