I'll have you know that typing on an Ipad is incredibly frustrating. The auto-correct is murder. On another note I've had 2K readers so far! Im not sure how impressive or not that is, but I'm pretty darn excited about it. :)
Also thanks to all that have left me reviews! Constructive criticism is very welcome!
John placed a hand on my elbow and the small of my back as he led me up the stairs, and I was grateful for the support. I most likely would have collapsed if he hadn't been holding me steady. Even so, I was breathing heavily when we reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
"You all right?" He asked, holding me steady when I started weaving back and forth. My head was pounding dizzily, and my heart was thumping in my chest from the physical exertion.
"Just...winded." I gave him a small smile.
"Let's get you inside." He let go of my elbow to turn the doorknob and used his shoulder to shove the door open. I took the opportinity to glance around the flat when I stepped in, but I noticed right away that we were not alone.
A tall man in a white dress shirt was standing near an open window, the slight breeze ruffling his soft brown curls. His hands were clasped behind his back and he was staring contemplatively down at the street as we walked in. When he turned around I was surprised to see a contemptful glare on his face. His eyes locked on me, and his expression hardened. I was taked aback at the hostility in his expression.
Have I done something wrong?
John didn't notice the other man while led me over to a sofa, setting me down carefully as I relaxed into the cushions. He did however notice the look of distress and confusion on my face, and followed my gaze.
"Ah...erm...Skylar this is Sherlock Holmes, my...erm..."
"I believe the term you are looking for is 'flatmate' John." he quipped, shooting a venemous glare at John before his cold eyes returned to me.
John gave Sherlock an exhasperated look, before he turned back to me. "How are you feeling?"
Snapping out of my momentary confusion, I smiled at John. "I'm fi-"
"Obviously she's exhausted John, all you have to do is observe. She was practically falling over when you got out of the cab. She almost didn't make it up the stairs, and was leaning heavily on you as you walked in. She's shaking from the physical exertion, due to the weeks of imprisonment and torture she endured and paired with the fact that she was given little food and water which left her malnourished, she simply doesn't have the strength. She is also recouperating from her recent blood loss, a substantial amount might I add, and she isn't handling it very well going by the tremor in her hands and the shortness of breath. You may also want to replace her bandages with fresh ones, and check on her wrist. It's started to bleed again." with that he stormed past John and into the hallway past the kitchen, and a few seconds later I heard a door slam.
There were a few moments of tense silence as neither of us knew what to say. I was speechless, my mouth hanging open a fraction.
"H...how did he..."
With a sigh, John sat beside me on the sofa, taking my arm in his gentle hands to carefully unwrap the bandages. "Sherlock...is highly observant to say the least. He's been that way ever since I met him. He considers himself a 'highly functioning sociopath,' so he tends to come off rude like that. It's not just you, don't worry about it. He's like that with everyone, even me." I jerked my hand out of his grasp reflexively with a hiss; he had accidentally brushed up against a particularly painful patch of skin on my wrist.
"Sorry, sorry." I returned my hand to his so he could continue unwrapping the bandages, albeit more gently this time. My wrists were now burning faintly as the raw skin was exposed when John removed the last of the bandages, and my eyes widened as I saw the extent of the damage. I started to feel queasy at the sight of my bloody skin at my wrists as well as the thin lines lacing across my arm. I gasped when I saw that some of them had been stitched shut, the skin around the cuts red and jagged. I flinched when I saw that some of the more severe cuts were oozing blood from between the stitches.
"Sky-are you okay?" I hadn't realized that I was close to hyperventillating, my breaths coming is short gasps. My stomach dropped, churning in discomfort. John reached out to me, gripping me firmly by the shoulders. I fought him, twisting to get out of his strong hold.
"Let me go let me go let me go!" I shouted, my eyes out of focus as I struggled with the strong hands trying to pin me down.
-John-
It all happened so quickly. John was removing the bandages from around Skylar's arms when she suddenly got this wild look in her eyes, and her breathing hitched as she started to hyperventillate.
"Sky-are you okay?" He reached out to wrap his fingers around her upper arms, her body shaking as she stared wildly at her arms. She tried to shake him off, fighting surprisingly hard in her weakened state.
"Let me go let me go let me go!" she shouted, her voice breaking. She sounded nothing like the sweet young woman he was coming to know. She sounded dangerous and afraid, like a cornered animal. John tried to subdue her by pinning her to the sofa so she would cause no further harm to herself, but it only made her writhe harder. She began to scream, thrashing around wildly which caused her wounds to bleed through the stitches.
"Sherlock!" John called out, not knowing what else to do. He had brought home medical supplies from the hospital, but his bag was across the room. "Sherlock!" he called again when he looked up to see if the detective had come.
The detective burst in from the kitchen, glancing around wildly for the source of the trouble. His eyes landed on John and widened as he appraised the situation.
"Sherlock in my bag, get the sedative. Hurry, she's hurting herself!" John yelled, desperate. Skylar was clawing at him with her nails, digging them in to his skin as she fought to get him off of her. He didn't stop her however, not wanting to cause her wrists any more damage than had already been inflicted. He gritted his teeth when she dug in her nails at his shoulder, his chest, his arms. She was crying and screaming at him, begging him incoherently to let her go.
"Sherlock!"
"Here," the detective held out to him a syringe. John looked up at him as Skylar thrashed about; she was now slamming her head back into the sofa repeatedly as tears coursed down her face.
"Hold her down," John ordered brusquely, grabbing the syringe from Sherlock as the detective held Skylar down by the shoulders. John gripped her by her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain. He gritted his teeth and held her arm steady as he injected the sedative into the flesh in the crook of her elbow.
Both men sat back and watched as the fight went out of the small woman, her screams quieted to whimpers and her wild eyes slid shut. Soon enough she was unconscious.
John and Sherlock stood as they watched Skylar relax. Neither of them moved for several moments, each listening to the sounds of her now even breathing. Sherlock was the first to break the silence.
"What happened John?"
