Abrielle's POV
Dark. Complete darkness. That's all I saw. I didn't know where I was or why I was here, but I was somewhere different. This wasn't the place Shan had been keeping me. It was larger, more roomier, and much more eerie in a way. No longer was I stuck to a chair, the wood rubbing my back and leaving bloody scratches up and down my body. I was standing, no pain to be found. I felt no blood, no marks from the weeks I had been in captivity. Nothing. So the question was what the hell had happened? Where the fuck was I? And the even better question was how the hell would I escape?
I closed my eyes, trying to work out what had happened, or perhaps what had lead me here. I remembered being kidnapped by Shan, obviously. And I remember the months of torture ranging from knives all the way to good old fashioned beatings. I remember accumulating several injuries that Shan and her big bad henchmen inflicted upon me. The nearly broken nose, the thirty seven scratches, the ten knife wounds, and the sickly bruises littering my body, from my face, all the way down to my legs. It was not a pretty sight, and it hurt pretty badly, but let me tell you, I've certainly had worse. I remember all of it. The questioning, Shan asking me day in and day out for information about Sherlock. Oh Sherlock. I definitely remembered him. The days I was gone from him made me realize just how much I missed that stupid face of his. I missed him so much, and that perhaps hurt the most. The injuries I could live with, the beatings didn't hurt. But missing Sherlock and John. Oh god, that hurt like a bitch. I wanted to know that they were safe. I wanted to tell them I was safe. But I couldn't and that ruined me. I knew that somewhere they were out searching for me, trying to figure out where I am, trying to save me, not knowing that this was my plan all along. I remember it all. So the question was … how did I get here? I never really slept when Shan had kidnapped me, not unless she knocked me out, which had happened more than a few times. So I would have remembered if someone had moved me. Which could only mean one thing … I never left.
The lights blinked on around me, causing my eyes to flinch from the sudden brightness. To reveal what I knew to be a library. My library. The library in my mind palace. Obviously, Shan had knocked me out leaving me in a semi-unconscious state. So my mind had taken me to my safe haven. My library. This was were I felt safest in my mind palace. Nothing from the outside world could touch me here. I never felt pain, only peace. And it was why I could not see the damage done by Shan. I was a figment of my own imagination, the perfect image of myself. And that was exactly what I needed right now.
I walked to the bookshelf skimming my hand along the spines until I came across a favorite of mine. The book that started it all. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkin. This was the book that Sherlock had been reading the day I had first met him. The book that had lead me to friendship and adventure. And the book that would be the end of me. I went to pick it up, my hands grasping the thin book ready to pull it from the shelf. But before I could, something stopped me. A hand perhaps a few size bigger than mine was placed atop mine, hindering me from completing my task. I turned to the man, surprise taking over my features as I stared into the sea blue eyes that were Sherlock's.
"That's a really good book, you know." He said to me, my hand going slack as he pulled the book from the shelf and handed it to me. I was in shock. For some reason my mind knew that I was missing Sherlock. That I wanted to see him. And here he was.
"I … I know. It's the book you were reading when I first met you." I stuttered, looking in awe at the version of Sherlock I had placed in my mind palace. I almost forgot what the man looked like. And just seeing him, after days and weeks and probably months without him … just seeing him, standing here, talking to me (although a figment of my imagination) was, well, overwhelming in a sense.
"So, you wanted to see me I assume, after months as a captive I can only guess that you must miss your brother, but me? That is rather surprising. You are losing your touch, Miss. Watson." He stated with a flourish, giving me a cheeky wink. Yes, I missed him. I missed him desperately. I missed him like hell. I missed his curious eyes and his arrogant smile, and the way he would look at me, trying to figure out just exactly who I was and what I was hiding. I missed everything about him. But he didn't need to know that. It would only inflate his ego even more. And no one wanted that, not even for a fictitious version of Sherlock.
"Perhaps I just needed a mind equal to my own to kerb my boredom." I replied, snapping out of my stunned stupor. It was true, these months were in fact filled with boredom. I had no one to talk to, no one smart at least, that could challenge my intellect like Sherlock could. My mind was racing off it's tracks, destroying anything and everything it came into contact with. I was breaking. This case was ruining me with all of the annoying waiting. I didn't sign up to become a spy just to wait. I signed up for the adventure. The thrill of the chase. The danger. Not WAITING! Waiting in boredom was not at all what I had in mind when I took this damn case. I took this case to finish what I had started. To wrap up all of these annoying loose ends. But no. I couldn't just kill the damn bitch. I had to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait some damn more until I had the opportunity to nab the idiot and send her off to the government aka Mycroft so she could be locked up in some fancy white room, in some fancy ass building to be tortured for information. She was getting off lucky. I was just the postman, the messenger, the person delivering the goods. I wanted to beat the crap out of her and then pull the trigger in that measly little brain of hers. I wanted her to look me in the eyes as death came, and I wanted her to see the smile on my face as she slowly bleed to death, the floored stained red in victory. But no. I was waiting. Just sitting here, waiting. Stupid Shan and her stupid organization.
"You missed me. Admit it." Sherlock sang, snapping me out of my thoughts as he began to circle me, a bright smirk overpowering his features. Yes. I did. Of course I did. I knew I did. And he knew I did. Well, this version of him did anyways. I could see it in his eyes, the way they screamed at me that just said he knew. He was just baiting me, getting me to say it out loud. And I wouldn't. Not here, not now, not in the future, not in reality. Never. If I missed Sherlock Holmes only I know. And no matter how much this crazy mind palace version of him wanted me to admit it, I would never say it out loud.
"I can't tell you I missed you. Then I would be lying." I stated, giving him one of my own smirks back. I just had to lie. To pretend like I didn't miss him. To pretend like it didn't feel like a punch in the gut to be away from him for so long. To pretend like he wasn't on my mind twenty four seven. To pretend like it didn't hurt to not tell him how I feel. To pretend like I didn't love Sherlock Holmes. Wait … what? Love? Where the hell did that come from! I didn't love Sherlock Holmes. Well … I had a crush on him. At least that's what I told myself. I couldn't love him. I had hidden even the thought of loving him so far in the back of my mind I had thought I had forgotten about it. But apparently not. I loved him, and now it was coming out for all to see.
"I love Sherlock Holmes."
"There you go, you just had to … Wait. What?" Sherlock replied, my icy eyes widening as I realized I had in fact stated that out loud. Oh. My. Gosh. I had said that out loud! This was horrible. Absolutely horrible! There was no way from lying my way out of this. I was in love with Sherlock Holmes and now the version I had stored in my head knew that. If I couldn't keep a damn secret from my own mind how the hell would I be able to keep it from the real Sherlock! This had to be kept under lock and key. I had to knock myself out, delete it, anything to keep me from telling the man my true feelings.
"You love me. Huh, interesting. I wonder …" He stated, snapping me out of my thoughts. He leaned in, his lips placed firmly against my own and everything went blank. My mind was entranced, and my lips were warmed by his own as we kissed. It made me feel so much happier, joy that I've never once felt before. Before I knew it however, it ended, my mind buzzing as we broke apart.
"T-that was … wow." I stuttered, trying to catch a breath, my cheeks warming from a faint blush that had overcome my cheeks. I was so incredibly embarrassed. Sherlock Holmes had kissed me. Mind you, it had been in my mind palace, and not in fact with the the real Sherlock Holmes, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Oh boy was it a kiss. I felt like I was floating on rainbows, which made no scientific sense, yet perfectly described what I was feeling in that moment. Sherlock Holmes. My crush. My love. The person that had stolen my mind and my soul, had kissed me.
"I never thought I'd see the day I made the great Abrielle Watson speechless." Sherlock stated a huge smile accommodating his features. I was in shock. He had made me speechless. I just didn't know what to do or what to say. I knew this would never happen in real life, and I knew the real Sherlock would never dream of kissing me. Yet, all the same it had felt so incredibly … real. And that in itself surprised me. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't blink. I was frozen to the ground unable to do anything. I just didn't know what to do.
"Don't worry, Abrielle. I can not possibly tell any one anyways, as I am an imaginary version of Sherlock Holmes and not a living breathing human being. No need to worry." He stated, rubbing my shoulders in a quite awkward manner, as if trying to soothe my worries in the only way he knew possible. And it fact, it was soothing me. I felt much more at ease knowing that this was simply my mind palace. No one would be able to figure out my secret. My secret love on Sherlock. Not if I kept it quiet and hid it deep in the back of my mind. No one could possibly figure it out.
"You are absolutely correct, Sherlock. No how's about we go play a game of deduction by the fireplace." I stated, giving the man a wide smile. He nodded, my grin getting wider by the minute as we raced off towards the back of the library, my library. My peaceful place. Not only was I peaceful, no longer being bored as I waited for my opportunity to incapacitate Shan, I was calm. The kiss Sherlock had given me clearing my racing mind incredibly well. No longer was I worried about Sherlock, or anyone for that matter, figuring out how I truly felt about Sherlock. I knew everything would be alright. No one would find out anything. I could hide it from them all, I would hide it from them all. And they would never, ever know. This kissing scene I had experienced in my head would never happen, not in real life at least. And I was okay with that because I knew that they would not react harshly either, because they would not find out. I was okay with it all, because it would forever be a secret. My secret. What she didn't know however was that this would come back to haunt her. For life is not just one straight road, it is a combination of many roads in one. Each road has potholes, twist, and turns we may not expect that may lead us to new places, yet we will always end up at the same destination. The same ending. This mind palace dream that she had experienced would happen once again, just under more different circumstances. And she would have, many, many surprises along the way. But that was okay, because she was strong, she was brave, she was Abrielle Damn Watson and she would survive anything that the world decided to throw her way.
