-Yay an update! My face is in pain because I just got my wisdom teeth removed, so this was written in between passing out from pain killers. I hope you enjoy it. Jacob returns the next chapter & Irene makes her appearance.

Shit is about to get real.-

Ashley Marie

{011}

Remember

"I don't like the way he looks at her." Hannah stood, eyes peering into the library through the cracked door. "It makes me feel uncomfortable." Her mother's voice was worried. She saw the tall blonde woman pace the floor with her arms crossed. Her father looked up from his spot at the desk and smiled.

"You're paranoid, sweetheart." Her mother sighed heavily. "He is Henry's friend and he doesn't spend that much time here." She shook her head as her husband looked back down at the sheets of paper he was going through.

"Something is wrong with that boy." She shook her head. "He doesn't... he just feels wrong to me." Hannah jumped, feeling a hand on her shoulder, the fingers brushing her hair from her ear.

"Come with me." His voice. His deep voice that she knew very well. She didn't question his command, slipping her hand into his she followed him from the hallway and down the stairs. She bit her lip as they exit the home through the back entrance of the kitchen. The sun was setting, the lights from the house casting the shadows of the windows across the ground. The servants quarters was illuminated across the way. Smoke rising from the chimney and disappearing into the darkened sky.

She stared at the back of the tall boy in front of her. She tried to pull her hand away from him to wipe the sweat from her palm, but his grip only tightened. "Where are we-" He hushed her and they walked deeper into the woods, the light from the two homes fading as the distance grew. She felt a growing fear well up in her chest and she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. He stopped suddenly, she bumped into his back and he turned around. She looked up at him, barely seeing the outline of his face.

"We are here." He walked backwards, pulling the small girl with him. He knelt down and searched the ground for something, sifting through the leaves before he found it. A click was heard and the light from a small flame was held in his palm. He moved it to a pile of sticks and lit them, the area becoming brighter. Stolen firewood from the side of her house sat against a far tree and a tent was set up opposite the fire. He had released her hand, kneeling next to the fire he looked up at her. His large brown eyes were reflecting the fire in front of him, pale skin with a dark tint, his smile wasn't as comforting as she thought it was.

His face wasn't what she remembered. For the first time since being around him, she was frightened.

.

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed. After a fitful night of sleep she was sitting and waiting, for what she didn't know. She heard John's heavy footsteps above her, in contrast to Sherlock's of which stopped a while ago. She knew she was anything but attractive. She ran her fingers through her hair and tugged at the knots, standing from the bed and walking to the door. She looked down at her phone which was still broken on the floor and she bent over, placing the battery back in the case and turning it on.

Walking from the room, she heard silence downstairs eluding to the fact that Mrs. Hudson had left about an hour ago. She turned to head up the stairs when her phone finally finished and beeped with a text message. She stared at the number for a moment, pausing on the stairs. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She didn't open it, and finally reached the top step, knocking gently on the open door she saw John sitting in his usual spot nibbling on toast that was on the table next to him. Sherlock didn't look any different than last night, sitting at the desk with John's laptop in front of him, fingers pressed together under his chin and his eyes closed.

"How are you feeling?" John folded his paper and stood up, moving into the kitchen. She shrugged. She avoided Sherlock's eyes which had opened to John's inquiry. She turned her phone over in her hand and tossed it to Sherlock who quickly unlocked the screen and read the message she didn't want to. John returned from the kitchen with a clear glass of water and a large white pill. "For the pain," He said. Hannah happily excepted it and John handed her a plate of toast.

Sherlock was staring at the screen still when she looked back over to him. "Do you remember what he looked like?" She bit into her toast and stared at the back of Sherlock's head.

"No." Sherlock's figure grew tense before he turned around.

"What do you mean no?" Hannah's lips parted before looking at John who shook his head and stuck his face back into the paper.

"No means that I do not remember what he looks like Sherlock." He glared at her before standing up and moving to her.

"You do know that we need to know what he looks like right?" She rolled her eyes.

"If I don't know, then I don't know. I have no idea why I don't remember." She finished her piece of toast and layed back in Sherlock's chair. "It's not my fault."

"It is your fault." Sherlock accused. "You don't remember."

"Sherlock," John interrupted. "Do you hear what you're saying right now?" Sherlock turned slightly to his friend. "Not everyone's mind is a steel trap."

"This sort of thing should not be forgotten." Hannah sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

"If this is all you're going to talk to me about then I'm just going to go back downstairs. I'm still tired." She stood from the chair. Sherlock shoved her back down into it.

"Sherlock!"

"What the hell!"

"John leave." His voice was stern, eyes not moving away from Hannah. John shook his head, standing up.

"No, you can't just push her around." Sherlock didn't move.

"John leave." Sherlock's voice was tense and unwavering. "I won't push her again. Leave." Hannah nodded at John who then threw his paper down on his chair, taking his jacket and walking from the flat.

"Why did you push me?" Hannah's eyes were a little glassy.

"Why can't you remember?" She shook her head.

"That is no reason to push me down." Sherlock knelt down before her and she felt her face flush. His hands gripped her knees and pushed them apart slowly. His eyes never leaving hers, he settled between her legs, his hips touching her inner thighs. "What are you doing?" Her voice gew quiet, the dark haired male leaning closer in causing her to press her back against the chair. His hand moved up from her knee slowly. Tracing his way up her right thigh, over her hip, skimping across her stomach and brushing gaainst the side of her breast causing her legs to shake slightly. His hand brushed across her cheek and intwined itself in her hair, pulling her face towards his.

His hand massaged her scalp gently, pulling his forehead to rest against hers, her eyes fluttered closed, heart beating rapidly in her chest. "Remember." He said softly.

"I can't." His nose brushed against hers.

"Try." She frowned and water overflowed from her closed eyes

"I don't want to." Her voice shook and his other hand moved from her knee to cup her cheek.

"Why don't you want to?" Her head moved side to side, trying to pull away. Sherlock's hand stopped massaging her scalp to come down to rest on her other cheek, the pads of his thumbs wiping away her tears. She opened her eyes and looked into his, his eyes a darker shade of blue due to the lighting, but the same clarity, the same beauty still there. Her hands wrapped around his wrists and his eyes searched her's as he watched her cry.

"I don't want to." Sherlock nodded.

"I know, but why don't you want to?" He whispered. "What did he do to you?" She shook her head rapidly, pushing him away slightly and standing up, moving across the room to the door. Sherlock wrapped an arm around the front of her shoulders and another around her waist, pulling her back to him. "Think about your family." His right hand brushed the hair away from her face, his lips next to her ear. "You have to rememeber him to finally end this." She let out a choked sob. He pressed his lips against her cheek. "Please." Her hand ran across his arm that was on her stomach, gripping his forearm, she leant her head back and looked at Sherlock.

"I don't-"

"Do not say that." Her body shook with sobs. "You know just as well as I what he did." His hand moved from her shoulders, to her hair and she turned around in his arms, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "You just have to try and remember what he looked like." She shook her head and his grip tightened against her waist. "It all depends on you at this point."

His fingers played with a strand of her hair absentmindedly. His eyes set before him, staring at the door, he wasn't sure why he was doing this. This all felt so natural, but so new to him. Her small frame fit against his just about perfectly, her head resting just below his chin, his hand resting on the curve of her waist he felt the same thing he felt back at the estate well up in his chest. Holding the sobbing girl against him he tried to distance himself, eliminate the strange feelings and he tried to remove himself mentally from the suitation. He found this to be impossible to do when her head changed position, leaning up slightly, her lips so close to his neck he could feel her warm breath. His head moved down to look at her. Her large brown eyes staring back at him. Those large brown eyes that caused him to take this case. The same large brown eyes that made him cave to her will.

His fingers dropped the strand of hair that had been wrapped around them, moving up to cup her cheek she moved up on her toes, lips moving closer to his. Without meaning to, his head moved down to hers, brushing his nose against hers. Lips centimeters apart, the doorbell rang and Hannah moved back down, placing her heels on the floor and looking down the stairs. "A client." He said. His hands removed themselves from her quickly, her body feeling cold from the lack of body heat. "Keep him occupied, I'm getting dressed. Call John." Hannah nodded and stuffed her hands into her pockets, moving down the stairs to the front door as the doorbell rang once more. She checked her appearance in the hallway mirror, flattening her hair a bit, she opened the door. A large dark haired man stood on the opposite side, his hands clasped nervously in front of him.

"Hello," He peered behind her, "Is this the residence of Sherlock Holmes?" She nodded.

"Yes, please..." She moved to the side, allowing him entrance. "Follow me." Shutting the door and locking it, she walked back up the stairs and offered him a seat, picking her phone up from the desk. "He will be with you in a moment." The stout man nodded, looking nervously around the room. She dialed John's number and held the phone to her ear.

"You alright?" He answered with a rush she nodded, forgetting he couldn't see her.

"Yeah, a client came. Sherlock wants you to come back." She heard the rushing outdoor air from the other end of the phone.

"Alright. I'll be up in a moment." They said their goodbyes and she turned back to the nervous man who sat in the middle of the room.

"Would you like something to drink?" The man's eyes darted up to hers and he nodded.

"Some water would be nice." She smiled kindly and entered the kitchen, taking a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with water, bringing it back to the man.

"He should be out soon." She stood awkwardly, peering down the hallway leading to Sherlock's room. "I'm really sorry for the wait." The man shook his head.

"It's no problem really." She smiled and heard John coming up the stairs. His blond head popped in the room and Hannah sighed in relief. "This is Dr. John Watson." The man stood from his chair and shook John's hand. "I'm going to go. Sherlock should be out soon." She nodded awkwardly and John smiled, stifling a laugh as she turned and exited the room.

She hurried down the stairs, checking to see if John had locked the front door before returning to her room, getting ready to shower. She tossed her phone onto her bed and began peeling off her clothing. She looked at the phone and stared at it. She wondered what the last text had said. She picked her phone up off the bed and unlocked the screen, pulling up the recent texts to see her inbox blank. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hearing Sherlock's footsteps join John's in the main room.

She threw her phone back down on the bed and walked into the bathroom. She turned the tap on cold due to the warmth that had grown between her legs. She peeled her sticky underwear off her thighs and climbed under the cold water hoping to wash away the heated feelings that had grown during Sherlock's embrace.

.

She hadn't seen Sherlock for the rest of that day. He had agreed to take the stout man's case and Hannah avoided going upstairs to have to face what she felt would be an awkward conversation. Mrs. Hudson had come home a few hours later, while Sherlock and John were still talking to their client thankfully. She kept Hannah preoccupied with kind conversation and the two watching some horrible daytime television. That night John had handed Hannah the prescription bottle of painkillers. He told her that he would be leaving early tomorrow morning for the case.

"What about Sherlock?" John rolled his eyes and shrugged, walking back upstairs.

Hannah was startled the next morning when she woke up and opened the door to large men in dark suits. They flashed her a badge. "Is Sherlock Holmes here?" She looked up the stairs and nodded, opening the door for them to enter.

"He's not in trouble is he?" One of the men shook their head as they walked up the stairs. Hannah sighed and rested her head against the door, closing it and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She heard them talking, Sherlock's defiant voice drifting downstairs, before the men walked through the door. Sherlock walking down behind them. Hannah's jaw dropped. "Are you-" Sherlock looked at the girl whose eyes grew wide at the sight of his pale chest. "Why aren't you wearing clothes?" He just looked at the men in front of him.

"I'm needed at the palace." Hannah gripped his arm as he reached the final step.

"Buckingham Palace?" Sherlock nodded. "You are going to Buckingham Palace dressed in a sheet?" She saw the corner of his mouth turn upwards and he left through the front door, trailing behind the men in dark suits. "That man will be the death of me." She mumbled, returning to Mrs. Hudson's flat and sitting back down at the table to finish her breakfast.

A few hours later she was sitting in front of the tv, watching a soap opera when she heard Sherlock and John burst through the front door and walk up to their flat. She turned the televison off and walked up the stairs, her curiosity getting the best of her. She walked into their flat to see Sherlock throwing what seemed to be costumes on and then changing his mind, tossing them back out of view. "What is happening?" John shook his head. Sherlock emerged from his room dressed as a vicar causing Hannah's confusion to grow. "What are you doing?"

"We have a case." Sherlock moved swiftly around her and she felt a pang in her chest. His eyes avoided hers and he walked out the front door. She looked to John who looked just as confused before following his friend out of the front door. Hannah sighed and collapsed into the desk chair, her hand resting on a manilla envelope. It looked new, and seeing as she hadn't seen it the day before it must have something to do with this current case. She held the thick envelope in her hands and turned it over, touching the flap to open it. She paused wondering if this could be something Sherlock would be angry with her about later, but her curiosity overwhelmed the other thoughts and she pulled out the thick pile of glossy pictures. Turning them over to see the front her heart almost stopped. A beautiful woman in black leather faced her. The beautiful woman with pale skin and red lips. The Woman.

Hannah flipped through the pages. Each one making her more upset than the last. "A dominatrix?" She tossed the pictures down on the desk and walked to the door of the flat, turning around and placing them back in the folder and closing it she hurried downstairs and back into Mrs. Hudson's flat. Her chest heaving with a pain she had never felt before. She sat back down on the sofa and turned the television on, trying to distract herself from what she just saw.

Her hands were shaking and she was so unsure as to why she felt such a horrible pain gripping her heart. "I can't." She shook her head. "No. I cannot like Sherlock." She dropped her head into her hands. "If he wants to go see a-" her voice cracked. "A dominatrix, that's none of my buisness. Right?" She leant back against the cushions. "It's just a case." She heard a chuckle from beside her. She froze in her seat, arms wrapped around herself, she looked to her right. In the doorway stood a dark haired man in a very expensive suit, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You shouldn't talk to yourself." His voice. His accent. "People would think you're crazy." She couldn't move. His face, the one that was missing, suddenly became clear.

"Richard?" She tried to stand, but couldn't will her legs to move. The man in the doorway walked over to her slowly.

"Sort of."