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Chapter 52

"You've done well you know." Sherlock suddenly said. Lucy looked up at him, having stopped drinking her tea mid sip. The day had been relatively quiet, other than Sherlock banging around the flat trying to think of what was going on in his new case.

"I'm sorry?" Lucy frowned at him, unsure of what he was talking about. "Have I missed out on an entire conversation?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at her comment.

"I meant," he said gently, "That you haven't cut for several days. You've done really well."

"Oh, thanks." Lucy blushed, not knowing what to say. Sherlock looked actually pleased for her and she smiled awkwardly at him. Truthfully, although she had managed to resist the urge, she never realised just how bad the need to cut would be. After just one day it was almost unbearable, but after several… she felt like she was going mad. The itch on her skin wouldn't leave, it was as though tiny bugs were crawling over her body, making her want to rip her own flesh open. It was insufferable. Of course she was proud of herself for making it so far, but it was a lot easier said than done to continue on the same course. Suddenly, Sherlock's phone rang and he sprang into life. He ran to the kitchen, talking hurriedly to Greg Lestrade- from what little Lucy could gather from the conversation. After a moment he came bounding out again.

"Another murder!" He yelled, not trying to quell his excitement. "A sixteen year old male, found with presumed torture marks a mile away from his home." Lucy looked up at him expectantly.

"And I'm supposed to sit and wait for you to come home?" She asked.

"No," Sherlock muttered as he put his scarf on, "You will have to come with me for now. But bring a bag with some overnight stuff just in case." Lucy smiled with excitement, thrilled to finally be allowed to go with Sherlock on a case! She ran into her room and grabbed a bag, packing a couple days' worth of clothes as well as one of the books Mycroft bought her. She hesitated. Making up her mind, the teenager grabbed her blade and shoved it into her bag. Just in case, she told herself.

Not a moment later, Lucy and Sherlock were in the back of a cab, whizzing through the streets of London to the scene of the crime. John and Mary were at work, so it was just them. It was nice, it had been ages since the two of them had been out solving crimes together. They hopped out of the cab and were instantly greeted by DI Lestrade.

"Greg!" Lucy gasped excitedly as she grabbed him into a tight hug.

"Hey there you!" He sounded pleased to see her, "It's been a while since you've been to work with us."

"I've missed it," Lucy laughed. Sherlock huffed impatiently, and with a chuckle, Greg led them through the sea of police tape to where a body lay on the cold concrete. Sherlock immediately knelt down to begin examining it.

"This is the third one now." Lestrade sighed, obviously concerned. Lucy whistled at the sight of the corpse. The body of the young male was lying face up with his eyes closed. Deep purple bruises and what appeared to be whip marks marred the pale white skin, leaving criss-crosses of bright red.

"So he was tortured?" Lucy murmured.

"It appears so." Greg ran a hand through his silver hair. "Notice the marks by his wrists, those are the marks normally left by handcuffs." There was a pause. "He was beaten to within an inch of his life too by the looks of it."

"Similar state to the other victims," Sherlock added matter of factly.

"It all looks recent," Lucy observed.

"Exactly," Lestrade nodded, "No previous sign of abuse."

"This is what makes it tricky," Sherlock stepped over the body to get a better look at the whip marks and any other injuries, "Normally victims of abuse know their abuser, often through family. But these haven't." Sherlock smirked. "It's a very different case. A different type of serial killer doing what he's doing just for the pure, sick, fun of it."

"Delightful," Lucy wrinkled her nose.

"But they've made a mistake!" Sherlock said triumphantly and rather loudly, earning questioning glances from the surrounding officers. From within the dead boy's pocket, Sherlock took out a mobile phone and waved it around. "This," he announced (ever the drama queen), "Is very important." He pressed a few buttons and scrolled through some texts. "It appears as though the killer text him." Greg leaned in to get a closer look at this revelation. The text read: 'hey gorgeous, how about we meet at mine tonight? X'

"That could be a girlfriend." Lucy suggested.

"No, the number has not been saved. If it was someone he liked or loved, he would have given the number a name." Sherlock rolled his eyes at them. "There are no previous texts. So I would assume the boy deleted any previous texts in case of being found out. It looks like the killer gets to know his victims, maybe flirts a little, invites them on nights out… gains their trust until they will meet up with him at his place." You could practically see the cogs whirring in the consulting detective's brain. "This killer is careful to get trust. So no one is suspicious. Perhaps the teenagers feel too uncomfortable to tell their family about their new friend. So only the victim knows who the killer is."

"So basically it could be anyone who becomes friends with teenagers?" Greg asked.

"It could, but we have their number." Sherlock looked at him with a degrading look. "Even if he uses a different phone each time, he still accidentally left the phone on the body- which hasn't happened with the previous victims. We just need to track the number." He looked excited. "Come on! We have a killer to track!"

After having a cup of coffee with Lestrade and having a catch up chat about life in general, Sherlock had managed to get a location for where the phone should be. They were doubtful they would find the killer, but they were hopeful. The phone could be traced to a hotel in Greenwich, London; and so Lucy, Sherlock and Lestrade headed off towards the hotel. It looked like a fancy place and was very close to the River Thames.

"How are we going to know who has the phone?" Lucy asked as they walked to the door of the hotel.

"We check their records," Sherlock muttered. "Most people leave a mobile number if they need to be contacted." Once inside, Lucy couldn't help but look around at how luxurious the hotel looked. Sherlock and Lestrade had already started talking to the girl at the desk, so Lucy took the opportunity to have a look around. She wandered into the next room which appeared to be a public lounging area. There was a door that led to the gardens and so she quietly opened it and stepped out into sunshine. There were many benches and flower beds in the large expanse of the gardens. Several couples were sat on the benches, enjoying tea. Knowing that her absence wouldn't be missed for a few minutes while Greg and Sherlock were trying to find the owner of the phone, the teenager took the liberty of walking through the gardens, enjoying the sweet scent of the flowers and the warm heat of the sun.

She sat down on an empty wooden bench at the end of the garden, admiring the view of the green grass, and colourful array of flowers. A few moments went by when she was lost in a peaceful silence- something which she found was rare to come by.

"Hi there," Lucy jumped as a young male voice shocked her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at a teenager, around the age of nineteen. He had hazel eyes and slightly scruffy brown hair. But he was dressed smartly in black jeans and a blue checked shirt.

"Uh, hi." She eyed him warily. Having spent a while with Sherlock she had learnt not to trust easily. Especially when there was a killer on the loose.

"Do you mind?" He gestured to the empty seat next to him. She shook her head and tried to ease up as he sat next to her. "My name's Daniel." He smiled at her.

"I'm Lucy," she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there something I can help you with?" He laughed at her.

"I'm guessing you aren't used to making friends." He looked at her. "I was just having a look around the area. I like the gardens here." He shrugged as he chatted, "I don't normally see many other teenagers around here though."

"There's a university just a few streets away." She eyes him, not trusting him at all.

"I meant at the hotel," he chuckled. "I like your eyes."

"Um thank you," She blushed, embarrassed. He seemed too nice.

"Maybe we could hang out some time?" He asked hopefully.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You seem nice and pretty," he smiled, "And mysterious. You seem to have a very strong guard up." Lucy didn't reply. But Daniel didn't seem fazed, "Here's my number anyway." At this, Lucy took the piece of paper and immediately studied it. But she was slightly disappointed to find that the number did not match the mobile they were currently trying to track. "I'll hopefully see you around." Daniel smiled as he stood up.

"Yeah… see you." Lucy was still unsure. After reflecting on whether or not he was dangerous, and not being able to make up her mind, Lucy went back in to find Sherlock and Greg. They were in the exact same place as before. But she soon found out that they had found out nothing. No records of the phone ever being there, none of the guest's numbers from the previous two weeks matched.

They went home later; Lucy hadn't needed to bring her overnight bag after all. She could barely sleep that night. Daniel had confused her. There was something about him that just wasn't quite right. Obviously she hadn't told Sherlock or Greg about him, they would just worry. But she wanted to meet him again to see what would happen. After a moment of indecision, she texted the number he had given her. Her text read: 'Hi, it's Lucy, fancy meeting up?' He had replied almost immediately, and it was decided that they would meet at ten in the morning at the hotel.

The next morning, Lucy had arisen before Sherlock. She was unsure what to do and what to say to Sherlock, so she instead settled for writing him a note. 'Gone out to meet a friend, will text if I need anything.' She hadn't mentioned any friends so she hoped he would believe her lie. She left it on the kitchen table before grabbing her overnight bag and heading out. It hadn't taken too long to get to the hotel, but it was just after ten when she got there. Immediately, she saw Daniel waiting outside.

"I didn't think you were coming," he admitted as she walked over to him.

"Trains," She muttered by way of an explanation. He nodded in understanding.

"Come on," he grinned at her as they headed into the hotel. Instead of heading for the garden, he started towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Lucy frowned.

"Just to my hotel room," Daniel shrugged, "I booked it for a couple of nights. I just need to grab my wallet and stuff." Feeling extremely dubious, she stupidly followed him to the first floor and into his room. She hesitated. She knew it could be very dangerous, and she was getting an even worse feeling the longer she was near him. "I don't bite," he laughed at her and gestured her in further. He shut the door behind them. Lucy took a few tentative steps inside. Everything seemed normal. Daniel reached for a gym bag, to get out what she presumed would be his wallet or something. Instead, when he opened it, she got a glimpse of a gun and what looked like a whip. Her eyes widened. Seeing her reaction, Daniel immediately grabbed her arm, restraining her with frightening force.

"What's wrong?" He asked innocently.

"Are you serious?" Lucy hissed at him. "It was you…"

"Ah so you were with the detective." He smirked.

"But they checked the phone records…"

"I have many phones."

"But… why?" Lucy's eyes were filled with fear, unsure of what to do.

"Just a bit of fun," his smirk sent chills down her spine. "Well I was hoping to have a nice day out and get to know you a bit… but I don't think we can really do that now." With panic, Lucy tried to open the door, only to find it had been locked. The keys were on the bedside table. Daniel just laughed as he went back to his bag. He took out the whip, and felt it in his hands. "I like this one," he said softly, smirking at the whip, "It's nice and… kinky."

"You're sick." Lucy spat, feeling disgusted by him. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she felt her phone begin to vibrate, but knew it was too dangerous to even bother trying to answer it. Daniel's eyes hardened and had a dark glint to them. He stalked over to her and grabbed her wrist, earning a wince at the force of his hand. He dragged Lucy over to the bed where he roughly pushed her down. Without warning, he brought the whip down onto her chest with frightening force, knocking Lucy backwards. She screamed out, hoping someone would hear her. With a renewed force, the whip was brought down again and again, and she felt her body bleed with the force. Her clothes had ripped. Feeling vulnerable, but knowing she had to do something, Lucy dodged the whip and punched him square in the jaw. It knocked the breath out of him and he stumbled on his feet. Lucy's heart was thudding with panic, but she kicked him in the chest as he regained his balance, causing him to fall back. He looked enraged, but she felt a sense of empowerment. Quickly, she grabbed the lamp that was on the table, and hit him round the head. Not hard enough to cause permanent damage but enough to disorientate him. She pinned him down, using her nimble fingers to find the pressure points around his neck. Pinching hard, she ignored his struggle to get up and held on until she saw the consciousness leave his body. Eventually, she let go. With shaking hands, she realised how badly she had attacked him back. But she had to defend herself somehow. She sobbed and reached for her phone. There were many missed calls but she instantly dialled Sherlock's number.

"Lucy," He immediately picked up, "Where the hell are you?" She choked out a sob. "What happened are you okay?" Sherlock's voice instantly became softer and even more worried.

"Help," was all she cried out before breaking down into body wracking sobs. Why did all the bad stuff just keep happening to her?

"Where are you? What happened?"

"It was Daniel."

"Who?"

"The killer." Lucy could hardly control her breathing. "I met him in the garden yesterday at the hotel. He wanted to meet up… I didn't realise he was…" She sniffed, fighting the tears. "We're at the hotel, he has the whip and a gun."

"Jesus," She heard Sherlock gasp. "Where is he now?"

"Knocked out on the floor."

"Well done," She could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm coming to get you now; Greg will be on his way with other officers."

"I can't Sherlock…" Lucy cried.

"Can't what?"

"I don't know. Just hurry." Lucy hung up.

She had waited ten minutes. All she had done though was pace back and forth, scratching her arms, occasionally glancing over to make sure he was still out cold. Sherlock texted her to let her know they would be twenty minutes. But she couldn't wait any longer. Lucy ran out of the room, not being able to stand another second being near that boy. She bolted out of the hotel and onto the street, turning the corner to the park. She kept her head down as she passed other people, knowing that her face was tear streaked, red and blotchy. The teenager found a quiet area away from the public eye and opened her bag to get her blade. She had been doing so well, but she needed to hurt herself so badly. Just to feel something other than sadness and despair. Lucy couldn't remember how many times or how deep she had cut. All she knew was that she was fed up of being attacked and dragged into awful situations. It scared her. She had brought it all upon herself, but she just wanted it to be different. Maybe that was why she had gone with Daniel. She wanted something good to happen other than just the shitty things that seemed to plague her.

Lucy wasn't sure what had happened. But someone was shaking her. Checking her pulse. Checking she was breathing. Looking at her arm. With panic, she opened her eyes. Sherlock's beautiful, but terribly worried eyes looked back at her.

"Lucy?" He said her name softly.

"Sherlock." She mumbled groggily, feeling very light headed.

"It's okay now, don't move." He put a restraining hand on her shoulder. Lucy looked over slightly to see Greg Lestrade carefully cleaning her arm.

"Greg," Lucy said his name, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Hey kiddo," he smiled sadly at her. It was then she remembered all the cuts on her arms.

"Fuck," she sat up with panic. Immediately, she squeezed her eyes shut against the dizziness that overwhelmed her mind.

"Lucy, calm down," Sherlock murmured, he was clearly worried. It was then that John came into view, striding towards them with a medical kit.

"Hey Lucy," he greeted her with a sad smile. He set the kit down on the bench and immediately set to work on her arms. The teenager was still very disorientated at what was happening.

"Why are you here John?" She frowned. He looked at her sympathetically.

"You cut pretty deep," He said gently as he put butterfly strips on the worst cuts.

"I didn't mean to," She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's okay," Sherlock reassured her with a tense smile, "We aren't angry."

"But," Lucy's eyes widened, "Did you get him?"

"We can't find Daniel," Greg sighed. Lucy's heart dropped, she felt sick.

"This is so messed up." She muttered.

"Indeed," Sherlock agreed, "Turns out he has several phones. And now we aren't sure where he has gone. He must have woken after you left."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you actually left before he woke up," Sherlock sighed. "As much as I hate this."

"You haven't lost too much blood," John said after a pause. "You should be okay."

"I'm so sorry," Lucy bit her lip as the tears fell down her cheek. Sherlock sat beside her and put his arm around her in what he hoped to be a comforting hug.

"No need to apologise." He shook his head. "But, we do need to track this Daniel person down and make sure he pays." There was an awkward pause. "I hope you will understand that you can't come."

"I don't want to anyway," Lucy smiled weakly.

"I'll give Mycroft a text." Sherlock muttered slightly bitterly at the thought of his brother. "I've already been keeping my dear brother informed as to what has gone on. Being with him will be the safest option." Lucy nodded in agreement. There was silence as John cleaned her wounds.

"Are they bad?" John suddenly asked, gesturing to where the whip had hit her body.

"I don't think so," she shook her head. "I'll just put some anti-septic on it later or something." John nodded, content with her reply. She sighed, "So I will stay with Mycroft until this is over?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded. Lucy was quite relieved at the prospect.

Once her injuries had been fully treated, Mycroft's sleek black car pulled up outside the park. Sherlock had helped Lucy onto her feet and picked up her bag for her. But she didn't miss how Greg had picked up her blade that had fallen on the floor. She didn't dare ask for it back. She saw Greg throw it into the bin nearby, but that was okay, she could get another. It was a sick thought though. The teenager hugged both Lestrade and John very tightly, thanking them over and over for all they had done for her. Sherlock escorted her to Mycroft's car. The older Holmes' brother got out to greet them.

"Good afternoon Lucy, Sherlock." He smiled.

"Take care of her," Sherlock said.

"Of course." Mycroft said seriously. She could tell from Sherlock's face that he was truly grateful for his brother's help, although he would never ever admit it. Lucy turned to hug her flatmate, he leaned in tightly and kissed her very gently on top of her head.

"Thank you Sherlock, I'm really sorry," she said quietly.

"It's okay, I understand." They broke apart. He smiled at her before taking his leave, heading back to Lestrade and John.

Lucy and Mycroft both got into the backseat of the car. Normally, they would sit by their own window. But this time Lucy moved over onto the middle seat so she was right next to Mycroft. As the car started moving, she felt tears start to trail down her cheeks again. Mycroft Holmes was never good with affection or comfort or anything of the sort, but he always made the effort with Lucy. He moved his arm to wrap around her shoulder and pulled her into him slightly. She gratefully accepted, leaning against the older man, she turned to wrap an arm across his chest as she hugged him, crying into his shoulder.

No words needed to be said, so they drove to Mycroft's house in silence. They entered his house and Mycroft immediately set around making them both a cup of tea. Together they sat on the sofa in the living room, the TV was on but neither was really watching the dining competition show.

"I can't believe this happened." Lucy eventually whispered after a sip of her tea.

"It isn't your fault," Mycroft said.

"It is though." Lucy was angry at herself. "I was stupid enough to walk into that trap. I knew something was up but I was too stubborn. I had to find out for myself." She sighed. "I guess, I just thought he might actually just want to be friends you know? It sounds stupid but I just wanted to see what would happen." She bit her lip. "I knew there was something going on, I knew I shouldn't go there alone but I did. And look how I messed up again." Her voice was getting hysterical. "That's all that ever happens! I get into all sorts of trouble and danger because I want to do things on my own or because I've had enough of being babysat." She put her face in her hands, embarrassed that she was crying yet again. "I'm the only reason for my own downfall. And I wish I could blame someone else. But it's just my fault. I just can't believe I could have this much bad luck. Not only did my parents do all of what they did to me, but just the other week I was almost raped." She spat out the words with venom. "My life just seems to be going downhill and I just don't know where I keep going wrong anymore." She took a deep, shaky breath.

"Lucy…" Mycroft started slowly, clearly extremely unsure of what to do or say. "Yes, you may go off on your own far more than is really advisable, but you cannot blame yourself for being attacked." He took a sip of his tea and put the cup down. "Obviously there are things you can do to be safer, to prevent this, but it is not your fault that there are sick people out there who wish to harm others."

"I know but…" Lucy sighed, "I just feel like it is my fault. Like I'm doing something to cause all of this."

"I suppose living with Sherlock does have its downfalls." Mycroft smirked, but his face turned reassuring. "Honestly, Lucy, yes you may frustrate us by endangering yourself, but no-one blames you for these bad things happening to you."

"I cut Mycroft." She suddenly said.

"I know." His voice was tenser. Uncomfortable? Upset? She wasn't quite sure.

"I had gone for several days without it as well."

"You can do it again."

"But now I want to do it more than ever." She looked at him. She was ashamed of herself. "I want to do it again and again until I can't feel anything. I don't want to feel anymore Mycroft." She brushed the tears away from her face angrily.

"You're worth more than that." Mycroft told her. She could tell he didn't know what to say or do for the best.

"I need it Mycroft."

"You don't need it, you want it."

"I don't know what to do with myself." She took another sip of her tea.

"Well," he looked thoughtful, "Let's try to distract you from those thoughts for as long as possible. How about you get into some pyjamas or lounging clothes and then we can put a movie on or play a game or something."

"Don't you have work to do?" Lucy eyed him curiously.

"I've been working non-stop as per usual lately, if anything urgent comes up then I will deal with it but until then, I don't even need to think about work." He smiled suddenly, "You asked me that last time."

"Yeah, and you're still a part time politician." She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

She had gotten into her long sleeved pyjamas and went back out to find Mycroft with a bowl of popcorn. He had shed his normal waistcoat and blazer and was just wearing a light blue shirt and dark suit trousers and socks. It was his version of dressing down and getting casual.

"Very domestic," she commented.

"I asked Anthea what was best to stock for when you came over." He shrugged.

"Anthea?"

"My personal assistant."

"Of course, silly me." She smiled. Mycroft insisted that Lucy selected a movie and so they ended up watching beauty and the beast. It obviously wasn't Mycroft's first choice of film, but it was a Disney classic so by the end he didn't hate it too much. They sat in comfortable silence, munching on the popcorn and enjoying the film. After a while, Mycroft and Lucy cooked a simple spaghetti Bolognese with a side salad for dinner. She didn't eat a lot, but Mycroft was just pleased that she had attempted to eat as much as she could. For the most part she had been fairly distracted from wanted to self harm, but the itch to do it was still there. She pushed it to the back of her mind, she would try and find a razor or something later.

"How long will I be here for do you know?" Lucy asked as she sipped her glass of white wine.

"I'm not too sure," Mycroft answered, "Sherlock thought it would probably be for at least two if not three days. Depends how long it takes to catch the man."

"Okay." Lucy nodded.

"Is that alright?" Mycroft looked concerned. "I know I'm probably not your first choice of person to be with."

"No it's more than alright Mycroft." She smiled. "I actually really like being with you."

"I'm glad," he smiled.

As soon as they had finished dinner, they retired to the living room. They spent time playing Operation, which was a game that Lucy could finally beat Mycroft at. They watched a bit of tv, but Mycroft ended up criticising all the contestants on the show- a trait that the two Holmes' brothers seemed to share. By the end of the evening Lucy was already yawning. She was exhausted from spending half of the day crying. She had been scratching at her arms now and then, unable to do any damage because of the bandages protecting the cuts, but she still felt the irresistible urge.

"Do you want to get some sleep?" Mycroft asked knowingly.

"Yeah I'm pretty tired."

"As am I." He studied her facial expression. He knew it was definitely a danger night but he didn't quite know what to do. Lucy stood up hesitantly, feeling very awkward and uncomfortable. She wasn't as comfortable around Mycroft as she was with Sherlock. But she took a deep breath and asked:

"Is it okay if I…" She paused, feeling like a little kid, "Umm, I mean, can I…" She shook her head in annoyance, but she was glad that the older Holmes' brother was very patient. "I don't think I can be alone tonight." She eventually said in a quiet whisper. "I don't trust myself and what I might do." She hated to admit her weakness, but she would be damned if she was to screw up even more in one day. Mycroft nodded in understanding and Lucy felt immediately relieved.

"I was going to ask myself," he admitted, "But I wasn't sure if that would be overstepping the mark, even though Sherlock asked me not to leave you alone for very long."

Lucy brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, she walked into Mycroft's room as the door was open to find him lying on top of the covers of the large double bed reading a book. He was wearing a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. Something she didn't think he actually owned. Awkwardly, she sat on the bed.

"Mycroft," She started, "I'm really sorry to keep imposing on you like this." He put his book down.

"You are not imposing, please stop apologising every time you come round," he smiled gently at her, "I do not mind you being with me okay? As long as you are comfortable. I just want to make sure you are safe. I've spent many danger nights with Sherlock before, and I would spend many bad nights with you too to make sure you are safe and well." He looked very serious. "Please stop worrying about me."

"Thank you," she said gratefully. It was strange, she had never seen this side of Mycroft before. She didn't even know he had such a kind and gentle side. But she wasn't about to question it. Feeling a little better, she got under the covers.

"Goodnight Lucy," Mycroft said quietly.

"G'night Mycroft," she mumbled, "You can sleep under the covers by the way."

Author's note: So yeah, I'm trying to explore the relationship between Lucy and Mycroft a little bit more. I'm not quite sure what happened with this chapter but it kind of just… happened!