A/N: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any characters related to the books written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I am simply a fan and I receive no money for this story.

Chapter 5

While You Were Sleeping

Holmes grabbed Elizabeth just as she began to fall backwards, he held her tightly in his arms trying to keep her conscious.

"Miss Elizabeth? Elizabeth?"

Holmes looked down at the pale girl in his arms; he had thought that he had heard Elizabeth mumble something in return as he carried her through the apartment door, but he cast that thought aside.

"What's happened to her!' Lestrade said as both he and Watson helped Holmes take Elizabeth into Holmes's bedroom.

"Stabbed, clearly," Sherlock said irritably as he gently placed Elizabeth onto his bed, "Watson, what do you think?"

"She hasn't lost too much blood remarkably, but we need to take this knife out before it causes an infection. Constable I'll need hot water and some clean cloths," Watson ordered.

"What about a hospital?" Holmes questioned as Lestrade rushed out of the room.

"There's no time for that, now I'll go and get my medical equipment and you try to remove some of her clothes to make it easier for me to extract the knife," Watson said hurriedly as he too disappeared from the room.

Holmes stood bent over Elizabeth with a perplexed expression on his face as he said aloud, "How shall I remove your clothes?"

Holmes looked up at Elizabeth's agonized expression and without a further moments hesitation began to carefully rip the clothes from around her wound and throw them to the end of the bed. When Watson re-entered the room he found Holmes staring down at Elizabeth unmoving.

"Quickly Holmes, help me clean the…" but Watson stood speechless at what he saw.

Though Elizabeth's breasts were covered with what appeared to be a type of corset, her stomach remained uncovered. That however was not what shocked the two men the most, what they were shocked by was that despite how tiny Elizabeth was her entire body was covered with scars and bruises.

"Doctor, here's the water and clean cloths," Lestrade said as he entered the room.

Sherlock quickly snatched the items from the constable's hands before pushing Lestrade out of the room and locking the door on him. Both were brought back to the dire situation which faced the young woman and they snapped to action.

"I'll take care of this main wound in her shoulder, Holmes you'll need to start work on cleaning those other cuts and bruises,"

Holmes simply nodded in reply and wetting the cloths in the hot water began to gently wipe the dried blood from Elizabeth's lips and face.

Lestrade paced the living room anxiously, while he waited for the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes to tell him how Elizabeth was doing. He had heard several screams of pain from behind the closed door but neither Watson nor Sherlock Holmes came out to tell him that she hadn't survived.

'I shouldn't be worried though,' Lestrade thought to himself finally sitting down in an armchair, 'After all she had told me exactly what to do if this were to happen…I just didn't expect it to happen so soon,'

"Remember Constable, if I should happen to become wounded beyond consciousness I need you to give me these daily."

Hours later, Watson finally collapsed onto a nearby chair, wiping the beads of sweat from his face he looked at Elizabeth.

"She is not out of danger but," and with a smile he added, "She is definitely a fighter,"

Holmes barely heard Watson as he moved from the bed and began to pace the room, his head bent on his chest.

Wiping his glasses Watson questioned Holmes,

"What do you make of the scars?"

Holmes stopped in his pacing to look over at the bed at the rhythmic movements of the bed sheets as Elizabeth breathed.

"A few bullet wounds, some scarring from several and varying weapons and the bruises and cuts are probably from whomever stabbed that knife through her shoulder," Holmes finished as he sat at the end of bed and placed his head in his hands.

"Is there any chance that some of them may be self-inflicted?" Watson suggested.

Holmes shook his head looking up at the doctor, "No my dear fellow, I believe our young friend was telling the truth when she said she was capable of taking care of herself in dangerous situations,"

"Well I suppose we need to tell the constable how she is doing," Watson said as he stifled a yawn.

"Well? How is she doing?" Lestrade said nervously when Holmes and Watson had re-entered the living room.

Holmes made no reply but simply sat down into his favorite armchair. Watson however placed a comforting hand on the Constable's shoulder before reassuring him,

"She is doing much better than expected," then after a pause, "It's nothing less than a miracle that she survived,"

Lestrade filled with relief moved to sit down but Watson's next words stopped him.

"Holmes, I believe I was right when I said that she was a doctor of some sort,"

"Would you care to explain Doctor Watson?" Lestrade questioned seating himself on the sofa.

Watson rubbed his chin as he began to pace the room,

"Right, well Lestrade if you were stabbed in the shoulder by a criminal that you were fighting with, what would be your instant reaction?"

"I'd pull the knife out of course," Lestrade answered.

Holmes looked up at Watson as he continued.

"That's right, most people would remove the object causing them pain, but Elizabeth did not, why is that?"

Lestrade shook his head as he waited for Watson's explanation.

"In actual fact had Elizabeth pulled out the knife she would have only made the wound worse, and in the process she would have lost more blood. Not only this but she also used her silk handkerchief to place pressure on the wound also stopping an excessive amount of blood loss."

"Excellent, Watson!"

Watson smiled at Holmes compliment.

"Why are you sitting there congratulating yourselves when this never would have happened had you not provoked her to the point of jumping out of the carriage,"
Lestrade said angrily as he looked disgustedly at both Holmes and Watson, "You don't honestly expect me to believe that you intentionally intended for her to leave our group so that you could question me. You're a good actor Mr. Holmes but not that good."

"She jumped from the carriage at her own free will, you can't blame me for something that I had no control over," Holmes defended himself.

"But you didn't make any attempt to go after her, if she had been a criminal or some other lowlife I'm sure you would not have let her go so easily. But she isn't a criminal, just a young girl and at the very least she deserves an apology from you!"

Holmes sat silently; his face was hidden in the shadows if the fire, so it was difficult to see how he had reacted to Lestrade's accusations.

Finally Holmes said, "Do you think I should apologize…Miss Elizabeth?"

"I think you're the one who should apologize, Lestrade," Elizabeth's voice replied weakly.

All three men turned to see Elizabeth, her eyes were red and bloodshot and her porcelain skin had taken on a sickly appearance. She was leaning against one of the armchairs staring at them breathing heavily, before collapsing onto the floor unconscious.