Sherlock greeted Sally Donovan with a firm stare and a slight nod as he entered the offices of the NYPD's homicide division. The sergeant replicated the gesture her own stare on the cold side. Ever since John had rescued her from being struck down by a car four months ago and the time Sally had defended John so fiercely when that bastard Ethan Davis had insulted him after damaging his injured shoulder, the pair had had a sort of truce between them. Sally no longer greeted him with 'hello freak' or referred him as 'the psychopath' anymore. In turn Sherlock no longer undermined her work or deduced her private affairs publicly. It had worked out relatively fine for most part, but after Sherlock had accused her of incompetence and uselessness when Lestrade had been kidnapped only three weeks ago it had made a huge crack in their already brittle ceasefire.
Since Lestrade was still out of commission, recovering from his kidnapping, Donovan had taken temporary command of the division. Sherlock, not willing to admit it out loud to anyone else still felt guilty Lestrade suffered in an effort to protect him from his past. So, the detective had taken it upon himself to offer as much help he could by solving as many of the cold cases as possible (even the boring ones) and assisting lightly in a few ongoing cases, despite them also being far under his level of interest, but he figured he owed the DI that much. Still he didn't stay for pleasantries and hurried down to return the evidence he'd used to successfully deduce and solve another two cold cases. He'd hand in his reports on his findings to Donovan on the way out.
Sally supressed her scowl as Sherlock entered the building once again, but nodded in greeting anyway. She allowed his presence, but it didn't sit well with her that she had to accept so much freelance help from the detective just to keep up with the workload. Until now she'd never realised how much crap Lestrade had to deal with on a daily basis. The administrative work alone was driving her crazy. Management was more or less breathing down her neck, pushing for results and reports almost every hour. She had to review every single case going through the department, knowing if something went unnoticed or she fails to make sure the chain of evidence is upheld it's all on her head and it's stressing her out. Just having to keep updated on all ongoing operation, cases and daily activity in the department is so confusing and she keeps getting things mixed up. She'd always been used to working one case at a time a privilege she'd taken for granted she realises now. It isn't even a busy time for the division and she's completely overwhelmed. No wonder Lestrade turned sliver fox so young, everyone upholding this position is bound to go grey early she thought bitterly. And then to think that Sherlock is actually taking a lot of the current workload willingly. Usually Lestrade had to put in an enormous amount of time and work to have Sherlock corporate and even then, Sherlock and John almost never followed protocol in a case. Just thinking about the mountains of paperwork that alone would require to sort out left the temporary DI almost dizzy. She had absolutely no idea how Lestrade managed this job as well as he did. These past three weeks had therefor led Sally to the disappointing realisation, that she was nowhere near as ready for this job as she'd thought herself to be. But admitting shortcomings and inadequacies had never been in her nature. So instead of admitting her need for help and support, her mood had soured more and more these past weeks and she'd started to let the stress and frustrations out on her colleagues.
"Where the hell is the evidence list for the Johnson case?! It should be on my desk by now, this is unacceptable!" Sally shouted out from the doorway of her (well technically Lestrade's) office, sending a wide glare all throughout the room.
Most of the people kept their eyes down and continued tapping away at their computers, hoping not to be caught in the crossfire of Sally's rage. Tentatively Claire Morrison stood from her seat and approached the angry stand-in DI with the list in hand.
"Sorry miss, I finished writing it up as fast as I could." She excused softly, daring to lift her gaze to meet Sally's and handed the document over.
Sally snatched it out of her hands. "My bloody grandmother could type faster than you! Just make yourself useful for once and bring me some coffee, black. Think you can manage that simple task?" the sergeant/ DI snapped crudely.
Claire nodded firmly, but not making any more eye contact. "Yes miss." She almost whispered.
"Well then stop just standing there like a moron, move it!" She looked up throughout the room "and all of you back to work, we don't have time for slacking off!" Sally barked and marched back into her office, failing to notice how several of the surrounding officers fitted her with glares and shaking heads.
Fact was, Sally had never connected well with most members of the force. No one had ever had any reason to dislike her and many respected her work and resourcefulness as a sergeant, but beside maybe Anderson and DI Lestrade to some degree, no one would use the term 'friend' about Sally Donovan. But these last three weeks had been hell for all, not only having to survive the chaos that arose when their DI had been kidnapped, but ever since Donovan had been in charge the workplace had been hell. Acting DI Donovan was short tempered, unorganized and just outright disrespectful and rude towards everyone on the force and it was starting to affect everyone's mood and performance on the job.
Robertson leaned back in his seat to catch Jackson's attention behind him.
"This is getting ridiculous. We shouldn't allow her to treat us like this." Roberson half whispered.
"Did you see Claire? I think she almost made her cry." Jackson said and eyed the misty-eyed Claire as she half ran towards the kitchen to fetch the coffee.
"Someone ought to teach that Donovan a lesson, show her we aren't just her minions to treat and berate as she pleases." Robertson said and gestured with a sharp indexfinger to mark his point.
Jackson chewed his bottom lip in thought for a moment before answering. "Yeah.. And I think I know just how to do it."
Robertson's eyebrows shot up at that. "Really? Do tell."
Sally returned from lunch with sigh as she saw the stack of papers waiting for her at the desk. She sat heavily on the chair and reached for her pen, only to notice it had disappeared. She looked around her desk area but couldn't find it. She looked under the desk and around it to see if it had dropped to the floor, but it wasn't there either. Her annoyance was already growing rapidly, but she forced herself to take a calming breath and opened the drawer where the spare pens were stored, but that too was empty. She felt her cheeks grow hot with anger, she was sure there'd been a whole bunch of spares when she went to lunch, someone was clearly making a mockery out of her and she wasn't having it! She slammed both her hands forcefully down and jumped to her feet, almost knocking the deskchair over in the process. She strode right back out into the bullpen and openly exclaimed.
"Okay, who the hell is the bloody idiot who has stolen all my damn pens during lunch?! You think this is a fucking playground. I want the one responsible to come forward right now!" As she howled she turned, fitting everyone with a hard glare as if she could copy Sherlock and deduce who the culprit was if she first made eyecontact.
One of the young constables, Jackson was his name, chose to speak up. "Hey, take it easy Donovan, we have a whole supply room full of pens downstairs. Can't you just fetch some more?"
Sally shot daggers at the man with her eyes. "Spare me your idiocy Jackson." (oh God, she was starting to sound like Sherlock wasn't she?) "The point is I won't tolerate this kind of preschool behaviour in the workplace!" She hissed angrily.
Jackson threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Just saying is all."
Sally huffed her anger only growing, but she didn't have the time for this nonsense. "This will have consequences when I find out who did this!" She growled with one last look around the room, before she turned on her heel to find some more pens in the downstairs supplyroom.
She was still fuming silently as she reached her destination. She opened the door to the tiny room, filled with all those small essentials for every larger office. She reached for the contact to light up the small space, but to add to insult the small lightbulb did not work. Sighing for maybe the hundredth of times she turned on the small flashlight on her phone to illuminate the small space. There had to be hundreds of items stacked on the many shelves and the pens were nowhere in sight. She stepped into the room to continue her search, but just as she entered the door slammed behind her and to the sergeant/ DI's fright heard the lock click and muffled voices penetrating the door.
"So sorry miss Donovan, but we all think you might need a bit of a timeout." One of the voices said. It was another constable named Robertson, Sally recognized.
"What the hell!" She exclaimed and started pulling at the door, lighting the handle up with her phone, the only light in the room. It wouldn't budge of course, she'd heard it being locked after all. Sally could feel her heartrate starting to elevate but forced herself to take deep breaths. "Robertson, let me out this instant, that's an order!" She commanded with a greater authority than she felt at the moment.
"We will Donovan, after you've had some time to consider your treatment of your colleagues. We'll come back when we think you've cooled down enough."
This time it was Jackson who spoke. Those bastards must have planned this all along. "You open this door right now or I won't be responsible for what I might do to you when I get out!" Sally yelled. Her heart was starting to pound, and her breaths were already getting shallower by the minute.
"Hmm, seems like this might take a while Robertson. We better get back to work and return later when she leans how to behave." Jackson said with clear amusement in his voice.
Sally listened with a rising panic as the two pairs of footsteps started to move away from the door. "No! No wait! Let me out! You can't bloody leave me here! LET ME OUT!" She all but screamed at the end but it was no use, both men had left already.
Sally turned around, back to the door. Beads of sweat were gathering at her temples, her breath hitching, realising she was dangerously close to hyperventilation. She moved the light franticly around the small room, just then realising in her half panicked stage that she was holding her phone. She quickly opened the screen only to find absolutely no bars available down here to call or texts for help. She couldn't help letting out a small cry of despair and slammed the back of her head back against the door. She once again tried to bring her breathing under control, this just couldn't be happening, not here, not now. The room was closing in on her, suffocating her slowly. It was getting too hot, she clawed at her collar and in a frenzied panic practically ripped off her thick jumper that was over her dress shirt, but it didn't help. She was full out hyperventilating by this point. It was too late. She was now in the midst of a full-fledged panic attack. She dropped her phone to the floor, turned around and pounded at the door as hard as she could screaming; "HELP! HELP ME SOMEONE PLEASE!" She stopped to let out a few heaving sobs. "LET ME OUT OH GOD PLEASE LET ME OUT, SOMEONE!"
Sherlock was on his way back from evidence, it had taken a lot longer than it should have, but it had been accidental. While returning evidence he'd come across a mixed rubiks cube on one of the many shelves, confiscated from an old closed case from the eighties. He'd picked it up and turned a few segments out of curiosity fully intending on putting it back right away and go deliver his reports so he could return home to John. But once he'd started he slowly became intrigued and had been unable to put the damn thing down until he'd unravelled the technique to solve the puzzle. It had taken him almost two hours, but in the end all sides had been neatly sorted and Sherlock felt satisfied as he left. However, as he walked towards the stairs to return to the offices his ears quickly picked up on something. It sounded like.. Crying? Not just crying, but heaving sobbing. Sherlock frowned and picked up his pace a little. The sobbing was definitely getting louder, he was getting closer to the source. Suddenly the sobbing was interrupted by desperate pleas;
"PLEASE SOMEONE, ANYONE! CAN SOMEONE HEAR ME?! LET ME OUT PLEEASE!"
Sherlock stopped for a moment in shock, that sounded like Sally Donovan. But in all the years Sherlock had known her he'd never heard or seen the woman cry or beg for anything. It seemed utterly out of character for the usually stoic and proud, even if often annoying, woman. The desperate sobbing picked up once again and Sherlock quickly pulled out of his shocked state and followed the sound in a run the last of the way. The sounds let him to stand in front of the Yard's supply room, it was clear it came from behind the door. Sherlock pulled at the handle testing, finding it locked as he suspected before calling out;
"Sally? Are you in there?"
"Oh God!" Sally cried on the other side of the door followed by the sound of desperate scratching on the wood. "Sherlock?! Get me out of here pleasepleaseplease.. I can't breath get me out!" Sally whimpered pounding on the door.
Sherlock could hear her frantic breathing and the utter desperation in her voice. He didn't have to be a consulting detective to figure out Sally was having a fullblown panic attack behind the door. He'd seen John have them a few times before. How PTSD and flashbacks would still haunt his poor doctor when certain triggers happened. Sherlock knew just how awful things could escalate and this was something he wouldn't wish to happen to his worst enemy, Donovan included.
"Sally listen to me." Sherlock pressed himself against the door, his voice was loud enough so it could travel through the wooden barrier, but still portrayed a calmness he knew was important to maintain. He had no idea how Sally had ended up locked in the small room, but he'd worry about that later. First thing first. "You're hyperventilating. I promise you I'll get you out, but you need to calm down and take some deep breaths for me, okay?"
"I-I can't.." Sally hiccupped, still crying.
"Yes you can Sally, just listen to me and do as I say. First sit down on the floor." Sherlock started to dig through his pockets at the telltale sound of Sally slowly sliding down to the floor. Sherlock kneeled down at the floor himself so he was at eyelevel with the lock as he kept rummaging through his many pockets, he knew he had it on him somewhere. "Good, now put your head between your knees and take as deep an inhalation as you can." The detective mimicked the action too as he listened carefully to Sally's slightly more raggedy breath. "Very good Sally and out." Again Sherlock followed by example, hearing Sally follow as best as she could behind the door. Finally he found what he was looking for in his blazers inner chest pocket, his lockpick set! "You're doing fine, now keep it up. I'll have you out soon, promise." He assured her once again as he began working the lock with deep concentration. Sally whimpered weakly as she tried to keep up the calming breathing pattern but finding it hard.
After about five minutes Sherlock finally managed to work the lock open. He'd only managed to open it a fraction before Sally bolted out of the room and straight into his arms, clinging to him as if he was a lifeline, sobbing into his neck. Sherlock was taken aback at first. If someone had asked him who'd be the last person in the world to ever embrace him, Sally Donovan would have been pretty high on that list. But as fate would have it, he was actually not a stranger dealing with someone suffering a panic attack. It's human nature to seek comfort and protection when faced with danger and Sally's systems is clearly running all the red warning lights still. So he did what everyone else would do and wrapped his arms protectively around the small frame and simply allowed her to calm down in her own time. He even went as far as stroking her lightly on the back and make a soothing noise as her tears continued to fall.
They stood like that for about ten minutes before Sally finally calmed down enough to slowly pull herself out of the embrace. Her eyes were swollen and red, her hair and clothes were a mess and a look of embarrassment started to bloom on her face as the realisation she'd just embraced Sherlock Holmes and cried on his shoulder.
Sherlock however decided to bite her embarrassment in the bud and interjected her thoughts. "Don't be embarrassed. You suffering from severe claustrophobia is not something you can supress. You should never apologize or feel ashamed for reacting to something beyond your control."
Sally looked at him with big eyes. She turned her head back down and sniffed before looking up again, some of her usual posture returning to her again. "Thank you.." She said simply. Her voice was a little rough from her crying and screaming, but both her voice and eyes were sincere with gratitude.
Sherlock offered what he hoped to be a small reassuring smile in return. "Don't mention it." He turned a tad serious again thereafter. "But if you don't mind me asking, how did you end up locked in the supply room?"
Sally turned her head and wrapped her own arms protectively around herself. "It doesn't matter.. I should get back to work." She tried to brush off. But Sherlock couldn't help but notice how she tensed up when referring to return upstairs to work.
The detective made up his mind then and there. "You'll do no such thing. You'll return home and get some rest, the department can survive half a day without you."
Sally went quiet, but in the end she nodded her consent. "Alright.." She headed for the stairs, but Sherlock caught her wrist before she could go anywhere. "There's a backdoor further down this hallway, go through there instead."
Sally frowned. "I need my bag.. My jacket.." She countered.
"Wait here. I'll go fetch it for you." Sherlock offered and disappeared up the stairs before Sally could argue.
Sherlock entered the filled office space and took a wide look around the room. It didn't take him long to pinpoint two men, sitting at their desk's but grinning and smiling at each other like idiots, clearly very satisfied with themselves. Seeing how Sally reacted at the notion of returning up here it was a no brainer to figure out someone had deliberately locked Sally into that room, no doubt in a twisted way to teach her a lesson of some sort. And while Sherlock had never been the biggest fan of Sallys' he'd never condone the use of such awful methods. Not knowing Sally had claustrophobia was no excuse and these bastards should be made aware that such actions is not without consequences.
Without pause the detective marched right over to the two men, pulled up at chair, sat down in front of them both and folded his hands neatly in his lap.
"Afternoon gentlemen, would either of you happen to know where I can find Sally Donovan?" He asked politely.
The men shared a quick look and a smile before one of them replied, the name on his desk said his name was Robertson. "Ah sorry mate, you just missed her. Don't think she'll be back for a while." He smirked.
Sherlock had given them a fair chance to come clean and confess. They had not done so and had now even indirectly admitted that they'd planned to leave Sally down there for a good while yet. The detective took a deep breath before he leaned slightly forward in his chair, before fitting both men with one of his terrifying fake smiles and continued in the politest manner. "If any of you ever lay a hand on Sally Donovan again or pull any stunt like the one you did today I'll make personally sure that your wife.." Sherlock pointed to Jackson before continuing; "Will know that you're having an affair with her twin brother." Jackson's eyes went comically large and his entire face got paler than a ghost. "And prove that you.." Sherlock then pointed to Robertson. "have been stealing large fortunes of money from all the charities you so often 'generously' helps organizing." Robertson looked positively sick at that moment. Sherlock's hands went to their prayerlike position and his fake smile grew ever the slightest larger. "Now, have I made myself clear?" Both men nodded madly, but both were deathly silent. Sherlock clasped both his hands on his thighs and stood. "Good now that's settled I'll take my leave, but just remember what I said, I won't forget." He said with a teasing wiggling indexfinger before making his was to Lestrade/ Sally's office to retrieve her things.
As Sally lay in bed that night she reflected over the days events. The uncomfortable feeling of residue fear had still not completely left her system and she honestly wouldn't know what she would've done or what would've happened if Sherlock hadn't come to her aid when he did. The detective had been surprisingly good at helping her through the worst of her panic and she had to admit, she'd felt completely safe in his arms as he'd calmed her down. Normally it'd have taken her hours to compose herself after such an intense panic attack, but Sherlock had been really comforting. They'd never been big fans of each other, but lately is seemed like things were beginning to shift in their perception of each other. It was.. Good.. And when she'd needed him he'd been there for her. At that point Sally silently swore to herself, that in the future she'd at least try to be there for Sherlock if need be.