John shot towards the two on the floor as Sherlock gently placed a pillow under the womans head and stood back, allowing John to get closer.
John put his hand on her forehead and reached for the stethoscope in his jacket pocket. Slight fever, normal breathing, pulse is good. Rolling up her trouser leg he cleaned the wound of her knee and put a plaster over it. Nothing bad there. Giving her a once over, watching her expressions (as even when unconcious your body will wince if in pain) he determined she was alright right, just exhausted and possibly on the edge of a cold, either the end of the begining he couldnt quite tell. He'd give her some paracetomol when she wakes up. He went to lift her but Sherlock got there first. Shifting his right arm under her shoulders and his left under her knees he lifted her with ease, took her down the hallway to his own room, pulled down his duvet and placed her neatly into the bed before gently tucking her in. John stared at Sherlock in shock. Turning, and seeing Johns face, Sherlock blushed very slightly, almost unnoticeable in the moonlight from the window.
' What? she wouldnt be comfortable on the couch and I dont use the bed anyway, I want to play my violin.'
John shook his head why cant he just admit that he cares even a little.With one last look at the girl, they swept down the hall and into the lounge, John reading the paper and Sherlock composing, only stopping for food once it arrived, leaving some in the fridge for when the woman awoke.
Around 3am Sherlock head a whimper, stilling his violin he listened, it was quiet. Thinking he was hearing things he started playing but he heard the noise again. Looking over at John, who had fallen asleep on the couch, he walked down the hall towards his bedroom and knocked lightly. Hearing an answering whimper her pushed it open and saw the girl in the midst of a nightmare. Tears were streaming down her face and she was curled up tight in a ball, her arms over her head as if holding off blows from a fist. He didnt know what to do. He didnt do this sort of thing, this was Johns job to be caring not his, but John was asleep after a busy day at the clinic and had work again in the morning. Sherlock couldnt bring himself to wake him and deal with a grumpy John. He crept beside her and hesitantly pulled her arms down. She whimpered more and shot backwards, Sherlock almost let go but if he had she would have fallen off the bed.
'Shh your fine, I swear your okay.' He whispered, trying not to scare her even more. She stared at him with hazy eyes, still caught in a fever and dreaming. He sumrised. Her breathing relaxed and she put her arms down. Watching him the entire time Sherlock began to feel uncomfortable. He got up to leave, he'd woken her from the nightmare and he would leave her to go back to sleep when she grabbed his hand.
' Stay, please?' He could have pretended he didnt hear it as it was no more than a soft whisper, but looking down at her pleading eyes he felt his ice cold heart soften just a tiny bit.
He sat beside her and stroked a bit of hair away from her face.
' Go back to sleep.'He said lowly, trying to put as much feeling into his voice as he was able to. He felt uncomfortable but couldnt bring himself to be his ususal cruel self. Couldnt bring himself to tell her to get over it and deal with it herself. So he sat there, carefully stroking her hair until she drifted off again.
Once she was gone, he crept out the room, shut the door softly and continued composing.
Sophie Taylor was trapped in life right now. Her parents had died when she was 12 and she was carted off to her Uncle Fabiens and into his drug ring. She was used to smuggle drugs to customers, used to lure in enemies so they could be taken out. Needless to say she would rather be dead. She missed her parents, even 8 years later she still dreampt of them. Dreampt it was a mistake and they would come to take her home.
She woke abruptly, startled at feeling a soft bed below her. oh god has he finally done it! Her uncle had been making passes at her for years now, but she always managed to distract him so he couldnt have her like he wanted. She froze, she couldnt hear anybody beside her, couldnt feel their body or hear their breathes. she opened her eyes to find herself in a small bedroom, lightly painted brown walls and nothing in there except a wardrobe dresser and the bed. Where am i? i dont remember coming here! has he finally sold me off? She was trying not to panic get a grip on yourself Sophie, calm down and look around. she scolded herself.
There were no photograpghs on the walls no personal objects on the dresser. In the wardrobe there were crisp black suits hung neatly to one side and the barest casual wear on the other.
'having fun snooping?' She whirled around and squeaked, seeing a tall man with curly brown hair dressed in a dressing gown leaning against the door with his arms crossed she could feel the colour rising up her cheeks. My god hes hot..' Im so sorry sir, I didnt mean to snoop, I was tryung to work out where I was'
'Its fine, come.' And with that He swept out of the room and down the hallway. Following quickly, not wanting to make him angry if she didnt, Sophie walked through a kitchen into what looked like a lounge. There was a couch, two armchairs, a coffee table with a tv next to it. Strangely a Skull was atop the fireplace and on the opposite wall there was a yellow smiley face painted with bullet holes for the eyes. She tried not to show her fascination, it was homely and not at all what she was used to. Sitting carefully on the edge of the couch she bit her lip and wrung her hands.
Sherlock watched as the girl took in her surroundings. He'd been suprised to find her up and snooping through his wardrobe but he couldnt say he didnt blame her. He'd be curious as to why he was in a strange bed aswell, especially if she couldnt remember anything that happened last night due to the fever. John had left him in charge when he left for work an hour ago, ordering him to make her some tea and toast and with a promise to make sure she had some paracetomol. He stalked back to the kitchen to do as he'd asked, letting her get her barrings. She fasinated him. He could tell she felt lost and scared but he could also see a dull fire in her eyes and he knew that she wouldnt take things lying down if she could help it. Its as if that fire had almost been stamped out of her but was surfacing slightly in the unfamiliar territory. He couldnt lie and say he didnt find her attractive. Especially if she cleaned herself up a bit, but he made a point of not getting interested with anybody, especially somebody connected to a case. Last time that happened he was drugged and government blueprints were stolen from him. No not again. He couldnt handle the dressing down he got from his pompous brother who is practically the British Government. Speaking of, hes expecting a visit or call any minute now, no way would his interfering brother be happy that he had a woman stay at his house, despite him needing to get her away from the man she came with. Setting her tea and toast in front of her he sat in his armchair with his fingers steepled and stared.
While the man had been in the kitchen Sophie began remember the events of last night. Her Uncle Fabien had brought her to the famous 'Sherlock Holmes' and asked him to find the blueprints of the warehouse in Surrey that she had stolen. She hadnt meant to but when she found out what that warehouse was going to be used for she had to take them. She flushed them down the loo so he would never get them back. But she knew if he ever found out he woundnt hesitate to kill her, niece or not.
Taking a deep breathe, she plucked up her courage, sat up tall and looked at the man in front of her.
' Thank you for what you did last night, you didnt have to request I stay, I know you know I was the one who took the blueprints. But you could have just told him that and kicked us out.'
' If i'd done that I would most likely be inspecting your body in a body bag this morning.' She winced, and he wanted to apologise, he hadnt meant to be so blunt but it was just who he was.
'You're probably right, I cant give you the blueprints though, they're gone.'
'I know.' Her head snapping up, she stared at him. How?... Of course, hes Sherlock Holmes, most likely he knows which bloody sewer they are now in too.'Your thinking too loudly' He said nonchalantly, still eyeing her.
With courage she hadnt felt in a very long time she shot back,
'Well feel privileged that your able to hear my thoughts, thats quite a rare talent. Im honoured to make your acquaintance' and she stood to make a deep flourishing bow before reseating herself and smirking.
He grinned, he liked this girl, she had spunk, and he knew if she got over her fear of that man that she would become a totally different person. What shocked him was that he wanted to see this person she would become. Shit am I ll? do I need John to come home? why am I grinning at somebody I have never met until yesterday!''Well brother, looks like you have some explaining to do as to why you have a missing person sitting on your couch casually drinking tea and eating toast.'
Sherlock sighed, of course his idiotic brother knew who she was he had only figured it out early this morning, after he had heared her muttering about her parents.
' Mycroft why dont you go and crawl back into your hole? We dont need you here. 'he muttered irratated. The girl whipped her head back and forth as if she was watching a tennis match. Looking at the man in the doorway she could tell they were related, same eyes, same high cheekbones, the other guy is slightly pudgier but he still had decent muscles under his grey suit. His umbrella being held in his right hand with a slacked grip. Wait a minute.. missing person? Surely her Uncle wouldnt report her missing, he was the one who left her here! She spoke.
' well Mr upshot umbrella man care to enlighten me on how im a missing person?'
Sherlock sniggered, Yes he definetly liked this woman, anybody who had the guts to antagonise his brother was alright in his books. Mycroft sighed and placed a thick heavy folder on the coffee table. Motioning for her to open it and ordering his assistant Anthea to get him some tea,he settled himself into Johns chair and watched as the young girl snatched up the folder and read her personal file.
Sherlock knew when she had finished, her face had grown alarmingly pale and she had started to ever so slightly shake. Whether in fear or anger he wasnt sure but he kept watching waiting and wondering what she would do next.
'hmph, well, the bastard isnt my uncle, hes part of the gang that killed my parents and kidnapped me 8 years ago. What on earth he wanted from the Mayors daughter I have no idea but one thing the bastard didnt think twice on is that I know many of his plans. Including his current one to do with a paticular warehouse. The only question is, what happens next?'