"Love is a vicious motivator." - Sherlock Holmes
Chapter Fourteen:
Leona limped through the darkened streets of London. Her thin clothes didn't protect against the hefty chill, of night. Leona shivered and her wings twitched instinct telling her to wrap herself in them, but she didn't. A cough rose in her throat and she hunched over, shuddering. She had to find Sherlock and John, she had to get back home.
If Leona could get overhead, she might have a better chance ― but she needed her wings to do that, and that wasn't an option.
Leona made it to the of the darkened street. She was thankful for the night ― not many people were outside and, by comparison, not many people could see her. At least, she hoped.
Leona needed a way back. She needed thicker clothes. She needed Sherlock, but she did not know how to get any of these things. Her stomach growled, but Leona tried not to think about that either. She continued to walk down the sidewalk and she saw car headlights ahead. Panicking, Leona ran to hide behind a pair of rubbish bins, waiting quietly until it passed.
When it finally did, Leona stood straight again and hurried down the sidewalk. She couldn't do this all night, and wander around in the dark! Leona heard another growl. This one was louder, but it wasn't Leona's stomach. Leona felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, and she froze in place, listening. Something shifted from the cans a few houses behind her.
Leona wasted no time. She ran as fast as she could, her wings pressed to her back. She heard pound of what could only be footsteps behind her. She didn't look back, she waved motioned with her head for a rubbish bin, knocking it over behind her. The thing chasing her jumped over it with ease, and continued to chase her.
Her heart was racing as she looked frantically for a way out. Whatever was behind her was gaining speed, she couldn't out run it. Leona turned and ran in the street just as a car was coming through. She ran past the car as it frantically skidded to a halt. The thing jumped on top of its hood, not wasting a second. Leona tried as hard as she could to knock things in its path, trash, boxes, even a sign, but the thing chasing her was agile and did not give up.
Finally, she felt something tearing into her back, sending her sprawling towards the asphalt. Her chin hit the ground and she bit her tongue and felt blood well in her mouth. Her back stung from its claws, but Leona quickly rolled over just before teeth connected with her face.
Leona stared at who it was. It was the girl that Mortiarty bought when he bought her. Her pupils were dilated to a dangerous size and her teeth coated in fresh blood. Leona held out her wrists just as she slashed again. Her claws went through her ropes, but it also dug into her hand, filleting the skin. She bared her teeth again, but Leona kicked the girl off, and into the street. Then, she scrambled to her feet and began to run.
Her hand was bleeding awfully badly, but Leona ignored that. The girl raced behind her, occasionally managing to scratch her wings with her claws. Slowly, the tape began to peel away. Leona realized this and reached behind her trying to yank at the tape to free her wings. The girl snapped her jaw at Leona, nearly getting a finger as Leona worked desperately.
The girl climbed on a trash bin and launched herself at Leona. Leona saw and ducked, trying to turn around and run the opposite direction, but she tripped over her own legs in the process.
The girl jumped on her, her teeth full of saliva with bits of flesh in between them tried to rip out her face. Leona held her back with her hands, pushing the girl away from her, and trying to keep herself away. Her hands found Leona's face, and clawed from her right eye to her nose.
Leona screamed, moving her hands to cover the blood in her eyes. The girl continued her attack, her teeth digging into her shoulder and her hands cutting up her wrists and arms. Leona used her ablitity and pushed the girl off her, making her go flying and landing in the street.
Leona tried to crawl away from the girl desperately, not having the energy to run. The girl hissed, and got up to jump back on her, but then a car came plowing down the street, hitting the girl and making her go flying. Leona watched in horror as the girl hit the ground with a disgusting thud, her body twitching for a moment before going completely still.
The driver pulled his car over and stared at the dead girl. Leona didn't care to hear what he said or did afterwards. Slowly, carefully, she picked herself up and started to limp away.
Leona only managed to get to an alleyway about five minutes from where the dead girl was, but that was enough for her. She heard mice and rats scuttling at her feet, so she kept her knees to her chest so they wouldn't bite at her toes. A few of them approached anyway. She flicked her fingers, sending them flying against the wall opposite to her, their small necks snapped.
Leona breathed heavily for several minutes, her head leaning back and her eyes slowly closing shut. She saw someone at the end of the alley just before she fainted.
Leona woke up in a bed the next day. She sniffed and immediately smelt the School. Her eyes widened and she scrambled to get up. Her entire body trembled, there were wires connecting her to the machines around her, all of them beeping and buzzing and humming and blaring,
Leona covered her ears, trying not to panic, but not doing quite a good job at it. Her heart beat fast and tears filled her eye. Then, she felt someone touch her leg. Leona jumped but looked at who it was.
Mycroft sat in a chair beside her. Leona stared at him, tears slipping past her cheeks. "Lay back down," he ordered, his voice tired. "You aren't well, yet."
Leona tried to swallow, but it was thick and she was still shaking. She did as she was told anyway, her eyes closed tight. She was scared. She was really scared. "You aren't back at Baskerville. You aren't at the School. It's just a hospital room." Leona nodded weakly, sniffing. "What is the last thing you remember?"
Leona swallowed, her throat coarse. She was thirsty, "D. . . D―Dark alley. Gi―Girl chase. . . Mo. . . Mo-tary. . ."
"Okay," Mycroft nodded. "Thank you." Leona turned to him, motioning to her throat. "Are you thirsty?" Leona nodded. He stood and stepped out of the room. Then, he returned with a glass of water. Leona sat up to drink slowly, then she laid back down.
"Wh. . . Where Shee?" Leona asked after a minute.
"They aren't here. He is. . . busy." Leona didn't say anything for a minute.
"I see Shee," she said, trying to sit up.
Mycroft frowned, "No. You need to rest. You'll see him soon enough."
Leona shook her head, and stared at Mycroft. "I see Shee now." Leona moved the blankets. Her foot was in a cast, and there were bandages on her arms and around her waist. She realized that something was covering her eye, too. Mycroft stood and pressed a button on the side of her bed. Leona felt something go from the bag and into the needle in her arm.
Leona shuddered, glaring and trying to take it out, but her fingers were wrapped up too, making it very hard. "No," She croaked. Whatever he put in her, it was working fast ― faster than anything the Whitecoats ever gave her.
The room started to blur around the edges. Leona was beginning to panic, but her movements were sluggish and her body weak.
"I'm sorry, Leona," Mycroft apologized, "But, you'll only get yourself hurt if you do." He held her back onto the bed and a second later, she was asleep.
"... I do not care what Mycroft said! I want to see now!" Leona stirred at the loud voices.
"Please, sir, she is not well yet. She still needs time to-"
"To hell with that! She was missing for two full days! If it was important enough to have her in this place then I want to see her! Open the door!" There was a short pause, but then the door unclicked and hurried footsteps came into the room.
Leona inhaled and stared at the man bent over her, her eyes unfocused and tired. "Leona? Leona can you hear me?" Leona whimpered, trying to curl away.
"Sir-"
"Leona, it's me, John. Look, we need to get you home," John said quickly.
"Jon," Leona whimpered, shuddering.
"We need to go, Leona, Sherlock's... He..." Leona exhaled slowly, her chest burning, but at the sound of Sherlock's name, Leona slowly turned to the man.
"Sh... Shee? Where... Where Shee?"
"He's..." Leona saw tears full John's blue eyes and she frowned. She's never seen him cry. Why was John crying? "Leona, I'm sorry... Sherlock's dead."
Leona blinked, her brow furrowing. "I... No. Shee...?" Leona didn't understand. Sherlock couldn't be dead. That didn't make any sense. "No. Shee... No," Leona shook her head, breathing heavily. "No. Shee no dead. Shee okay. Shee..." She felt her chest tighten, as if she were a damp rag someone was trying to squeeze the water out of. "Shee... Leona no..."
"I'm sorry, Leona," John told her. There was a woman beside John, looking worriedly at Leona. "He's gone."
"No," Leona said again. "No!" She pushed John away, but she didn't use her hand. He flew backwards, hitting his head against the arm of a chair. "Shee no dead! No! Stop! Shee fine! No lies!" Leona couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Sherlock wasn't dead. Sherlock wasn't dead.
"Calm down, Leona," the woman said softly, trying to get to the buttons that Mycroft had pressed to make her to go sleep. Leona did not want to sleep anymore. She wanted Sherlock. John was lying to her - Sherlock couldn't be dead.
Leona screamed and the screens of the monitors beside her imploded. The Windows cracked and then shattered. Glass was flying and the machines began to smoke and sizzle. The woman began to panic, hurriedly beginning to unplug essential things, but Leona didn't care about her.
She glared at John who was starting to get off the floor. "Leona-"
"You lie!" Leona screamed, her usual dull brown eye glowing with emotion and power. Her pupil were dialated and her face contorted in pain. "You lie!" She screamed again, and John grimanced, covering his ears. A high pitched buzzing had grown and sparked pain behind his temple.
"Leona-!" John gasped, suddenly feeling the full pressure of her power. He felt as if his insides were being compressed and flattened, as if his heart was going to stop any minute.
"Shee no dead! Jon lie, Jon-" Her voice began to choke with sobs as she curled into her knees, crying.
"Leona... Please," John gasped, feeling as if he were being choked. He felt his heart burn from the extortion and he shuddered, clutching his chest.
The nurse loomed behind Leona and plunged a needle into her neck. As soon as it broke skin and Leona recognized what had happened, she screamed and panicked, but it was too late.
The nurse plunged the contents of her needle into Leona's body. The inside was thick and dark, something Mycroft had prescribed personally. Leona gasped, her hand raising to yank the needle out. She had hardly touched the woman's wrist but a second later, the nurse screamed in agony. She stumbling back, holding her hand, which was twisted at an inhumane angle.
Leona had fallen back on the bed, her wings flapping, getting tangled in the sheets, and she was gasping madly. Her thickly bandaged fingers fiddling with the needle that was still half in her neck, but her hands were shaking and she was obviously in the middle of a panic attack.
John felt some of her power relax and he gulped in air, bent over and gasping. When he finally caught his breath, he saw Leona, who was sprawled out on the bed, staring at the bright ceiling, completely petrified. She was muttering nonsense - like she used to when they first found her. He heard something along the lines of 'no', 'sharps' and 'Whitecoats' but everything else was gibberish.
However, whatever drug the nurse had given her, it was working quickly as she began to relax a few minutes later and was soon in a fitful rest.
John focused on breathing for several minutes, then he stood up, and heard the woman hissing back sobs in the corner.
John hurriedly limped over to her and saw her clutching her hand to her chest, which had began to swell now. John made a face, "I'll be right back," he promised and went to the door.
Outside the room was chaos. Doctors and nurses running around, alarms blaring and people shouting all over the place. John didn't try to help. He went back into the room and began to search the medicine cabinets, and began to pull out a bottle of painkillers, a towel and roll of bandages.
He hurried back to the woman and bent down. He folded the towel and handed that plus the painkillers to her. "Bite down on this," he instructer and she did, sniffing a bit. He took her wrist gingerly and looked her in her eyes. They were a dark brown, matching her skin tone and her frizzy hair. "Three... Two... One," he squeezed and there was a sharp crack.
The woman let out a shrilly scream, squeezing her teary eyes shut, but it died in her mouth. He held the her wrist in place firmly and used the other hand to awkwardly wrap it. It took him longer than he usually did, mainly because he usually had an assistant to help with breaks like this, but his time in the field taught him to make use of what he had.
When he finished the splint to her elbow, he stood. "Do you want some water?" He asked gently and she gave a noncommittal nod. He stood and rushed to the restroom, grabbing a paper cup from beside the sink. He came back with the water just as the woman shakingly popped two pills in her mouth. She gulped down the water and gave a small, shuddering sigh.
"What..." She said in-between huffs of pain. "What is she?"
John couldn't give her an answer.