Chapter XII – Soldier, Soldier, it's Time to Wake

xXx

Maria felt the familiar chilling sensation of the pistol pressed against her temple. Numbar's arm slowly wrapped around her waist, all too close for comfort, restricting her from movement.

She breathed in, calming herself. The closeness of the murderer wasn't helping the ugly shivers from running up her spine. Biting her lip, she started to think.

Simply, she assessed the situation, stiffening in caution. 'Semi automated. Glock manufacture, 10mm auto bullet. Hasn't been fired, still cold to the touch. Probably fully loaded. User; weak but experience.'

At the same moment Sherlock ran towards the sudden attack, surprised by the sudden movement. He had left the staff to watch out for Numbar, apparently they hadn't done such a good job. 'Never let other people do your job.' He scolded himself. He had been busy for only a second and now he had this mess to take care of.

"Maria!" he yelled worriedly. He tried to assess the situation but could barely see in the dim light.

"STOP!" yelled Numbar, his grip tightening around Maria. Sherlock skidded to a halt, only a few feet away from Maria. Cursing, he looked them over while trying to find a weak point in Numbar's defense.

"Don't do anything you'll regret, Mr. Holmes." said Numbar from behind, leaning into Maria a bit, making her tremble horribly. She hated human contact, especially with someone like Numbar.

"I've called the police; we know you killed Leonard Littwickett. They will be here any moment so do us all a favor and just hand yourself in." said Sherlock coldly.

"No can do. If they arrive, I'll shoot Ms. Ashdown here."

Sherlock flinched slightly. Lestrade would be here any minute and he had no way of getting Maria out of this mess until then.

"But then again I'll probably just kill you anyway." said Numbar, getting cocky.

A tense silence stretched around them. Minute passed minute as Sherlock tried to figure out a way to free Maria. It seemed useless from the outside, though. He couldn't approach her without Numbar firing.

Suddenly Sherlock groaned in annoyance, making Numbar tilt his head in confusion.

"I've had enough with this case. There's nothing here! It's all so simple and straightforward, you're just making us run about. Just let her go, I've got no time for this." said Sherlock, agitated with the situation.

Maria could only sigh; of course he thought this was boring.

Sure he was getting exercise and his adrenaline was pumping but his mind was no doubt screaming at him to get it over with and get a new puzzle. He hadn't gotten the information she had; he couldn't have made the connection yet.

She glanced at Sherlock, catching his eye. He stared at her, reading her until a flash of surprise crossed his face. Her body was still, inhumanly so. Her eyes, though, where darting around and then settling, a cold fire burning in those evergreen orbs. He saw what she was about to do and started to step back a bit.

"Oi! What ar-" Numbar started, never getting to finish his thought.

Maria had enough of this. She decided to take the situation into her own hands before it was too late.

Placing her leg back a bit, she rammed the back of her head into Numbar's nose, disorientating him and releasing Maria from his grimy grip. The hand holding the gun was raised to try to balance him, though without much success.

She elbowed him in the stomach, winding him and making him stumble back even more.

Spinning with the extra momentum she had, she threw her arm out and punched Numbar right across the face. He fell over, releasing his gun as he reached toward his jaw bone, undoubtedly broken.

Maria shook her hand, it wasn't broken but it was torn and there would be bruising. Seeing the gun drop, she scooped it up and threw it to Sherlock who caught it without missing a beat.

With her heeled foot, she stomped down on Numbar's arms, breaking them or at least incapacitating them until further notice. While he was still disorientated and screaming from the pain, she stepped up to him, placing a heeled shoe right across his neck where the left carotid artery would be. She let her foot sit on top of it; her foot ready to spike and puncture his neck if he moved.

Sherlock cocked the gun in his hand, pointing it at Numbar.

Though the pistol was pointed at Numbar, Sherlock's eyes were on Maria. He was, for the first time in a long while, speechless and completely dumb-founded. He was now thoroughly impressed with her; he had started to forgot that she was an ex-soldier.

He watched her wearily, noticing the signs her body gave off. There was the slight twitch in her arm, the burdening emotions she tried to hide and the extreme soldier-like focus.

Those details confirmed that she was holding the conscience, intelligence and curiosity that made her think over what she was doing. She was no danger to any innocent man, as far as Sherlock was concerned.

The curiosity reminded him of his own in many ways, the only difference being that even though it was there, Maria hid it like she was ashamed.

Was this what she was hiding? Her abilities... the memory, the training, the curiosity.

Had he greatly underestimated her?

"Pl-Please, have m-mercy! Ggrrhhhng-" begged Numbar before Maria lowered her heeled foot a bit more, pressing it against his neck until the skin was turning red.

"You didn't..." she hissed back. She stared at him for a minute, hatred in her eyes. Finally, Maria turned her head away to look down the long alley, gazing around and watching Sherlock carefully. Numbar wouldn't be going anywhere with his injuries.

After a moment, sirens could be heard. Maria glanced up at Sherlock, looking for confirmation. He had ordered the restaurant to call the police as soon as Maria had left for the washroom. He nodded his head, confirming that they were now on their way.

Soon, after a minute or so of waiting tensely in the gloom of the dark alley, four cop cars surrounded the area. Sherlock glanced back, seeing Lestrade make his was towards them. He headed towards them but when he saw the predicament they were in he started to jog and pick up speed.

"This the guy?" he asked once reaching Sherlock.

"Obviously" the consulting detective droned, a bit distracted to answer fully. "Oh... ah... mind the arms when moving him. I don't want him screaming any more, it's quite annoying."

"H-his arms?" Lestrade asked, confused with the statement.

"Yes, his arms are broken."

"Bu- What?" a shocked and exasperated expression crossed Lestrade's face.

"Self-defense." answered Maria calmly. The detective inspector could only shake his head, not wanting to push the situation.

"The restaurant said that he had a woman with him, where is she?"

Sherlock looked confused, he had forgotten about her for a moment. She had followed Maria to the back but he hadn't seen her since she first left.

"Check the washroom." replied Maria in an icy tone, glaring at him slightly. Lestrade looked at her, startled at her reaction. 'Did she do all this?'

Glancing at Sherlock, Maria saw him nod. She let go of Numbar, stepping off of him and quietly moved over to where Sherlock was.

By then a few other officers had appeared holding handcuffs, ready to lock up Numbar. They moved swiftly, restraining the murderer and went off in search of the wife. They would soon bring them to Scotland Yard for registration and the normal procedure.

"We'll have to go to the Yard. They will interrogate Numbar there and I need to see the process." whispered Sherlock, ushering Maria carefully out of the alley.

Without thinking he put an arm across her shoulder, trying to calm her out of her stony state. It didn't seem to work very well though; she was less tense and said nothing to no-one.

Soon Maria brushed Sherlock off, leaving him to watch his walked straight out to the front of the restaurant and called out for a cab in a hardened voice, one that would even scare Sherlock if it was directed at him fully.

Once they got into the cab, Sherlock directed the cabby and sat back. Looking at Maria, he saw that she was completely stiff, completely changed from the secluded but easy-going librarian he was used to.

'I'm not concerned...but what happened for her to be able to do this?' he thought. When he had first met her about a month ago he had deemed her normal, boring even. Sure she had an interesting past but he had thought it didn't concern her now, she had chosen to leave it behind.

Looking at her now, his chest did a funny thing. It tightened and then twisted. He looked down, not understanding what his body was doing. 'Stupid... I must have heartburn or something...'

He watched her eyes, remembering that they where called the gateways to the soul. Even if he knew there was nothing spiritual about it, he could still read a person's emotions in great detail from the slightest detail of the eye.

She was thinking, concentrating on the case no doubt. But there was a flash in her eyes that told him that there were deeper emotions.

The fierce gaze she held with the front seat told him that she was fighting something and that she had fought it for a long time. Though, he couldn't figure it out yet, he didn't have enough data.

'I've underestimated her, she's a mystery...' he thought before catching himself. 'What am I doing? This is irrelevant. We've caught the criminal... but something doesn't add up. I need more time.'

-x-

As Maria walked up the front steps of the New Scotland Yard, she glanced up at the large building, never expecting she would one day enter it. She might have in the past, for one reason or another, but now the task felt a bit daunting. She had thought she didn't really have anything to do with that lot.

Quietly she took in the surroundings, habitually looking for threats and taking in the new details. It was past 12 o' clock but the streets were still busy. Lamplight lit up the sidewalk and blocked out the starlight. Only the moon could be seen peaking behind a few clouds. It was chilly outside but it comforted Maria oddly, steeling her and settling her racing mind.

Sherlock was already at the entrance, glancing back at her with an odd expression on his face. He looked indifferent but would occasionally lightly grimace, like he was fighting something or thinking deeply.

He raised an eyebrow, silently telling her to hurry up; he wanted to go see Numbar soon.

Seeing him wait for her, his hands behind his back and his shoulders straight, made her relax a bit. By now it was a familiar sight; he had always been an enigmatic man, it was a comfort to see him so focused on the case. Since meeting John and him, they had become new constants; their hectic habits reassuring her.

Maria felt guilty for being so aggressive back in the alley, she felt like a monster. She was grateful that Sherlock hadn't thought her barbaric when she had all but killed Numbar and Mrs. Littwicket.

Maria had hoped that she wouldn't have to go back on her controlled lifestyle; she wanted to be seen as normal for long as possible. Though, it seemed she had had no choice; she wouldn't let her friends be hurt, even if she had to open herself back to the mad little scientist turned soldier that she once was.

At the moment she felt fresh, a sort of awareness filled her being; one that hadn't been there for a long time. No emotion clouded her judgement, a stony lock on her heart. And yet, after the imminent danger was over, she still struggled against it.

She was scared of herself deep down, she had been taught to blend in and just live.

In the end, though, she begrudgingly admitted that instead of pushing herslef away she needed to embrace it, at least for now. There was still work to be done.

Catching up to Sherlock, she nodded to him grimly while she entered into the Yard for the first time.

Sherlock went up to the front desk and greeted the secretary. It seemed that everyone knew about him here, even the lonely janitor that worked in the corner.

"I've been associated with the Yard for the past 9 years, at the very least." said Sherlock plainly, almost as if he could read her mind.

"When they are out of their depth, which is always, they consult with me."

He tried to get Maria to snap out of whatever trance she had put herself in. Of course, she was too busy staring out of the window to really notice. She was once again watching the busy nightlife of London town.

He grumbled, hating being ignored, and moved through the back offices. Maria followed him, keeping quiet and tried not to bring attention to herself.

Her aggression was ebbing, along with the adrenaline. She could feel the pain from her wounds, ignoring it for now but she knew she would have to wrap up soon. She was running on military training at the moment, her mind working on overdrive, but even that couldn't last forever. Nothing was fatal, but if they weren't treated soon they would get very irritating, at best.

Sherlock led them both to an office near the back of the 4th floor. It was a bit bigger that the surrounding few cubicles, identifying its owner as someone in the higher ranks. She saw the little plaque on the door and in the office, both having Lestrade's name on them.

The detective was still on his way from the restaurant, probably being held up by traffic. 'Come on then.' thought Maria.

"Make yourself at home; Lestrade will be here in...24 minutes," estimated Sherlock.

Maria nodded, moving to a chair while putting her coat up on a rack. She started to sit down but groaned painfully, her abdomen still hurt from the run in with the wife. Her throat hurt as well, along with the deep scratches on her shoulder. 'And now the pains start teh get worse...'

"Damn..." said Maria tersely. She searched her bag for a napkin or some bandages but found nothing. Sherlock noticed her pain and briskly left the room. Maria watched him in confusion, not knowing where he went, she hoped that he would be back soon.

As Maria was feeling her neck, he suddenly reappeared, holding a moist towel and a first aid kit, a smirk of success on his face.

The corner of her lip twitched in reply, not really reaching a smile. She went to reach for the kit but the elongated position only made her abdomen stretch in pain.

"No." Sherlock motioned her to sit back; he had learned first aid from John years ago. He wasn't as good as the good doctor, not even close, but he still could put in his own stitches.

"Fine..." she said hoarsely, seeing immediately that the argument would be a losing battle.

He took the towel, swiftly but gingerly cleaning out her shoulder wound while using gauze and hydrogen peroxide to clean it out.

While he wrapped it up he asked, "Where are your other injuries?"

"T-There wer'no more." Maria lied, not wanting to trouble him anymore. She'd take care of the rest later; he had to focus on the interrogation.

"This will not benefit anyone if you lie. You sat down in pain, holding your stomach and later while I returned you rubbed your throat. Now, I'll ask again. Where are the other injuries?" he said sternly, having no patience for her lying.

He didn't like to see his friends hurt; if she hadn't already taken care of Numbar and Littwickett he probably would have. If he was anything towards his few friends, he was protective.

"...I was kneed in the abdomen, right above the solar plexus. Littwickett wasn't strong enough to cause long term damage but I expect at least a week or two until full recovery. M-My windpipe is possibly bruised... it hurts when I speak so I expect so." She paused, indicating the slight redness at her neck. "My knuckles might be fractured; the bone is, at minimum, bruised. The rest are minor scratches and scrapes, nothing to bother with."

Sherlock nodded. He couldn't do anything about the solar plexus or wind pipe, for now he could only give her some aspirin and some ice. John would look at her better when they got home.

With surprising delicacy he took her hand in his, inspecting the bruising carefully. He saw other scars around her knuckles, no doubt from previous fights or accidents.

"Impressive right hook." He commented.

"I try," said Maria weakly, watching him test out the proximal phalange bones and their joints.

"The pointer finger's metacarpal is slightly fractured at the tip; the other two surrounding it are bruised but will be ok." Sherlock said. Maria nodded in response, suspecting as much.

Tentatively, Sherlock took the towel and ran it over her knuckles, wiping away the blood and grime. It stung but Maria was infinitely grateful for his help.

She watched him work efficiently, first making sure that he was doing the task correctly and then she found herself just staring.

He moved gracefully when he walked but Maria now noticed that even his smallest gestures had confidence in them. He knew what he was doing, and if not he learnt rather quickly.

She blushed, not knowing why her mind went in that particular direction. She put it down as envy; simple envy, which, deep down, she knew was a lie.

She felt comfortable in his presence; she could let her guard down while they were alone. She figured that if he was going to judge her, he would do it in his own time or not at all. She let out a slow sigh, trying to get her muscles to stop being so tense while at the same time trying to find some peace.

When Sherlock finished with the knuckles he lingered for a second before he abruptly moved onto the scratch on her cheek from Mrs. Littwickett. He kneeled down and put one hand on the side of her head to stop her from moving.

He knew she didn't like to be touched but the flinching got in the way of his work. Maria herself felt a bit awkward, his hand basically cuffing her ear so she wouldn't squirm. 'If I wasn't hurtin' so bad I mightea laugh at this.'

The scratch wasn't deep but blood was still caked around it, at one end a crimson line ran down from the cut indicated where the blood had run free.

He wiped at it gently, his expression showing innocent concentration. She stared at him again, blushing a bit and hoping he didn't notice. 'What in the world is wrong with me? Focus, ye foolish lass.' She told herself, feeling more and more awkward.

Sherlock finished up and put a bandage on the cut, smirking at his work. He stood back up and plopped the bloody towel onto Lestrade's desk. Maria raised her eyebrow at the sight, not appreciating the half-hazard mess he made.

"That is what he gets for being late," said Sherlock, staring intently at the clock.

Maria smiled faintly. "Thank you."

Suddenly two officers burst into the room. One was a dark woman with frizzy brown hair while the other was a man with a sort of ratty appearance. They both eyed Sherlock with disdain, ignoring Maria for the moment.

"Anderson, Donovan. What do you want?" asked Sherlock, going frigid while staring them down. Maria could tell that there was a history behind them all.

Sherlock looked at them, for the most part emotionless, but his arms twitched in hatred. Anderson shuffled awkwardly while Donovan stared straight ahead, ignoring his hate. They both held guilt over something they did, supposedly to Sherlock. 'Not the time to find out though...'

"Freak," acknowledged sourly.

Maria stiffened at the comment, remembering one of her childhood nickname. She felt herself stiffen again, becoming silent and cold, weary of the two officers. She looked away from them, staring at the wall as she felt her hands shake. She was losing it, wasn't she? Was this what happened when negative memories about her past were brought up? She had no business being here... but she knew that it was all her fault, again.

No one loved her and now people could see her true self, they could judge her again because she had decided to put herself out into the world again. 'Oh dear, what next?'

A cold hand suddenly appeared on her shoulder, bringing her back to reality. Sherlock had seen her retract to Donovan's comment, it had apparently affected Maria. 'Something to do with her past?'

Maria looked up to see Sherlock looking down on her, a raised eyebrow inquiring if she was okay. She nodded, confirming that she was fine but didn't speak. She didn't feel safe... she felt ashamed.

"Lestrade's brought back Gregory Numbar; they're in the interrogation room right now. He said to come fetch you." continued Donovan, she hadn't even noticed Maria yet.

"On our way," said Sherlock, collecting his gloves and coat from Lestrade's desk.

"Who's she?" asked Anderson, eying Maria suspiciously as she collected her own things.

"Why's she here. Did you pick up another stray?" added Donovan bitterly, noticing the librarian finally.

"She's a consultant of mine, she helped me catch Numbar." explained Sherlock while ushering her out of the room.

"Yeah? But who is she? We can't just let civis walk around here all willy-nilly." added Anderson.

Maria suddenly stopped walking, breaking out of her thoughts for a moment as she turned to the two officers. Sherlock continued down the hall, not noticing the loss of his consultant or the officers.

"I am Dr. Maria Ashdown, released army doctor and current conservator at the Wellcome Library. Show some respect, I just took down to wanted criminals!" she said firmly, glaring at the both of them. Anderson seemed to step back, letting it drop. Donovan on the other hand relented, not wanting to be ranked by some introverted hermit. She stepped forward, getting into Maria's personal space while glaring at her.

"Yeah? Why where you released? You're too young to have gone through all the training. Where you too scared or incompetent to finish? Did you give up? I've seen death, hunny, I work in homicide, so maybe you should show me some respect."

Maria's fist clenched, she hated when people judged her unfairly. The woman in front of her looked very dim witted, even if she was a policewoman. Maria straightened her back, ignoring the pain and gave the woman a dark look.

"I skipped grades during my education and I was rushed through the army training. I was released after I had defended a medical unit from an enemy, killing most of them. I took a near-fatal injury t'the leg and was incapable of further service. I was discharged wi' honors.

Ye might work 'omicide but I've swam'n my comrade's own blood, seen 'em cry out while I tried to 'elp 'em. I've seen and made so much death tha' all the bodies 'ave turn into featureless blurs. Now, I'm askin' again. Show. Some. Respect."

Donovan was left staring dumbly while Maria turned briskly to catch up with Sherlock.

Anderson seemingly weaseled himself away at some point, afraid of the woman's quarrel.

Maria took a breath, calming herself and returning to her previous thoughts. John was right; it felt good to pull rank again, even if it was informally.

After walking around the building for a few moments, she finally found the interrogation rooms. Stopping herself before entering, she steeled her mind and tried to organize the information she had gotten. She had to see Numbar again so she could ask him about what she now knew. She had to know, had to tell Sherlock.

Maria was suddenly reminded of what she thought of as the madness, the freak, which had been buried away long ago. It had broken out and shown itself again.

In confirming her theory, Sherlock would no doubt find out about her abilities and in turn have a lot of questions. Not knowing what to do, she stared at her feet.

'He'll think I'ma monstah, a freak... even for his standards. He'll tell John an' Mrs. Hudson an' then they'll look at meh all funneh. I`ll have to become invisible...or 'ide. But- I like the feelin`o`all this. To be able to see everything an`help Sherlock in his cases.' swallowing hard, she decided, 'I-I need to find equilibrium.`

She bit her lip, she would have to share her deductions and then there would no going back. Sherlock would no doubt start to poke into her past. `But... when did I get so fond of them all?'

xXx

Author's Note: Erm, yep. I'm not even sorry. (I don't have much to talk about a.t.m.)

Reviews are appreciated and criticism shows that you care.

Cheers,

Elleari.

Oh, and let's pop in another disclaimer, shall we?

I do not own anything that is associated with Sherlock Holmes BBC and the original books. The characters created for this story specifically do belong to me, respectively. For entertainment purposes only.