A/N: *waves* Hi guys! Just wanted to say thank you all so much for sticking with this story so far! I have had a lot of fun writing it and all of your comments have been really encouraging! :D

Enjoy!

**Italics indicate a flashback**

The next time John awoke he was feeling considerably better, well at least compared to before. The pain in his leg was still there but had subsided to an aching throb instead of sharp stabbing agony. He was, understandably, extremely sore from lying on this cold hard slab for who knows how long and he weakly tried to escape the straps that held him there by attempting to sit up. Unsurprisingly this did not help in the slightest. With a sigh he ceased his futile attempt at escape and went limp again.

After what seemed like an eternity he heard the door to his right open with a click and caught a glimpse of a dark and grungy looking corridor before his view was blocked by a slim figure.

"Hello again Doctor Watson," Sylvia said cheerfully as she slipped into the cramped and dusty room that was his prison. "Good to see you again."

"Good to see you too Sylvia," John grunted as he tried in vain to shift into a more comfortable position. He saw her glance at him, noticing his discomfort and decided it was worth a try to ask.

"Is there any way you could let me up for a minute? Just so I can stretch a little? I'm not as young as I used to be you know." He asked using the most charismatic voice he could muster at the moment.

Sylvia glanced at him one more time, debating. After a moment's silence she finally spoke, "Oh all right but just for a minute." She sighed as she moved beside him and began to undo the thick leather straps.

"Thank you." John said in relief as he sat up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can't tell you how good that feels."

Sylvia smiled at him and undid the last strap holding his right leg to the table. "Don't go and try running away, trust me you wouldn't make it ten feet before they caught you again and it wouldn't be pleasant when they did."

"Uh, definitely not. Do I look like an idiot to you?" John asked sarcastically as he swung his legs off the large black slab and started to slip off the edge to stand.

"Oh no no no no wait!" Sylvia exclaimed just as John's feet hit the floor and his shin exploded in agony.

"AHHHHH!" John screamed as the excruciating pain laced up from his shin and into his whole leg. His knee buckled and gave out and he was sent tumbling forward towards the ground. Suddenly he felt strong arms wrap around his chest under his arms and haul him to his feet. He let out a gasp as the pain in his leg gave a particularly sharp stab and leaned on Sylvia for support.

"We'll now you certainly do look like an idiot." She grunted as she slowly guided him back to the black slab. "Why in God's name would you try to stand when you had just been shot in the leg?!"

"I... Forgot about it," John managed to wheeze through waves of pain.

"How do you forget something like that?!" She exclaimed in frustration. She gingerly set him down and went to the counter next to the door. For the first time John scanned his surroundings. The room was small and barley decorated. His "bed" was in the center of the cramped space and there was only about a five foot gap between it and the wall at any given point in the room. To the right of his "bed" there was an old and rusty metal door which had red spots on it that looked suspiciously like dried blood. Consisting of the same suspicious spots was a counter to the left of the door that ran along the rest of the wall. In the center of the counter was a single grimy sink that Sylvia was currently using to fill up a glass with water. The rest of the room was completely bare; it had clearly not been designed with comfort in mind.

Sylvia turned around and only then did John notice the small tray she had balanced in her hand.

"Here drink this," she said as she handed him the glass of water and the tray, "and eat this."

She set the tray consisting of a roll and some sludge that somewhat resembled oatmeal, down next to him. He stared suspiciously at the food for a moment but soon decided that if she had wanted to kill him she would have done it long ago and he dived at the food.

"I figured you must be hungry given that you haven't eaten in nearly three days now." Sylvia smirked at him as he crammed the disgusting tasting food into his mouth. At this point he didn't care how it tasted as long as it was edible. It only took him a few minutes to consume the measly portion and drink the glass of water.

"Sorry I couldn't bring more. This was all I could smuggle out of the cafeteria this morning." Sylvia stated sheepishly as she snatched the tray and glass away and turned to rinse them off in the sink.

John's eyes snapped up at her words and widened in shock. "You mean you weren't sent here to feed me? You risked yourself just to bring me food?"

Sylvia felt a small blush creep into her cheeks and she quickly turned her face away in an attempt to hide it. "You make it sound heroic when you say it like that, but yes."

"We'll it was heroic!" John exclaimed, "That was incredibly kind if you. Thank you very much."

Sylvia blushed even more. "It was nothing." She said dismissively.

"But I will be in a lot of trouble if I stay here much longer." She said as she gathered up the empty tray and cup. "Could you lie back down so I can strap you in?"

John nodded and gingerly lied back down on the "bed", trying to move his leg as little as possible. As soon as he had shifted himself into a slightly comfortable position Sylvia started to retie the leather straps but she left them slightly looser than before. As soon as he was completely secure she nodded once and moved to the door. She gave him one last glance over her shoulder and John could have sworn he saw something like pity in her vibrant blue eyes, she turned the handle and slipped into the waiting corridor.

Sylvia power walked down the twisted and grungy maze of corridors that she knew so well and allowed her overwrought mind to wander. Unsurprisingly her mind went immediately to Doctor John Watson. Her cheeks grew warm and she sped up her already rapid pace. She couldn't help it; John was the first person she had felt comfortable with since her parent's untimely deaths. She felt herself involuntarily flinch at the thought of her parents and found herself unwillingly remembering them for the first time in a long while. She was only six when it began, the knocking. She remembered it vividly.

One calm and peaceful night a young and innocent Sylvia laid quietly in her bed sound asleep, when she was jolted awake by a pounding on the front door. She glanced at the clock; it read 1:33 am. Even being as young as she was she had known something was wrong. Slowly she slipped out of her covers and put her numb toes into her favorite pair of pink bunny slippers, rubbed her eyes thoroughly, and peered around the corner of her door frame. Down the hall to her left she could just make out the dark outline of the front door and she started at it intently, waiting to see if the ominous noise would come again. It did. Just the same as before someone (or something) knocked loudly on the door exactly five times. Wide-eyed and curious she came out from behind the corner and started to walk cautiously toward the door. Before she had made it four steps, however, she heard the soft pitter-patter of feet coming from upstairs. Not wanting to be caught out if bed she dashed back into her room and jumped back under the covers. Less than a second later her father came into view and he cautiously approached the door, looked out the peephole, and stumbled backwards with a gasp.

And again came the five knocks. There was a look of pure terror on her usually brave and cheerful father's face and he bolted away from the door as if the devil himself was on his heels. He sprinted into Sylvia's room and snatched her up in his strong and comforting arms and hauled her to the back door. "Stay here while I fetch mummy." He whispered to little Sylvia in a panic. He rushed back up the stairs and she heard him crash into her parents' bedroom and begin talking rapidly to her mother. She couldn't make out any of the words but she did hear the muffled shriek of fear that escaped her mother's lips.

Five more knocks. Her parents came flying down the stairs and they grabbed her and ran for the back door. Just as they reached it they heard a crash come from the front of the house and when Sylvia turned around to look the whole front door had been reduced to splinters and a huge menacing silhouette of a man stood in the empty space. Her mother let out a scream and they burst through the back door and ran out into the black night.

Sylvia shook her head in an attempt to clear it and slowed her rapid pace down to a comfortable trot. She rounded one more grungy corner and turned to face the looming door in front of her. She fished a key out of her worn pant pocket and fitted it into the lock. The door swung open to reveal a room that looked much the same as John's. In fact the only noticeable difference between the two was that this one had a real bed that was pushed up against the far wall. Sylvia sighed and closed the door behind her, home sweet home. She wearily drudged over to the bed and flopped down on top of the musty and lumpy mattress. Of course this hadn't always been her home.

Over the course of the next ten years after the first man came knocking at her door there were many others that followed suit. Her parents and she were never able to stay in the same house for more than six months before another knocking man came to visit. And when he did they would run, they would run for days until they found a new city or town where they would start all over again. For ten years that was all her life ever consisted of. And then one day they didn't run quite fast enough.

She had been sixteen when yet another mysterious man came knocking on their door, but he had been different. Never, not once, had any of the men said anything to them, but this one did.

"Phil I know you're in there!" He yelled at the night. Phil was her father's name and the fact that this man knew it put her on edge. "Come on out Phil, I just wanna chat."

Sylvia glanced at her father with a question in her eyes. Currently they were crouched behind a cabinet that was right next to the back door, ready to bolt if necessary. Her father just shook his head and mouthed 'run'. So that's exactly what they did, both her parents and her burst out the back and ran as fast as they could.

"Phil!" She heard the man yell and she made the foolish mistake of glancing back. Her foot caught on a stray branch and she was sent tumbling toward the ground at an alarming rate.

"Sylvia!" She heard her father cry as he spun back around for her. She slammed into the ground and the air rushed from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath. Within moments her father was there next to her trying to get her back on her feet. Just as he was pulling her up the knocking man yelled to them from the distance.

"You aren't getting away from me unscathed this time Phil!" He screamed in rage and she heard the sound of a gun firing.

"NO!" Her father yelled as he flung himself in front of his injured daughter in an attempt to protect her from the deadly projectiles.

"DAD!" Sylvia screamed as the bullets ripped through the strong muscles of her father's chest. Phil slumped to the ground and lay there, unmoving. Desperately she looked around for a sign of her mother but there was none, even the killer had disappeared. She was alone.

Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the sheets of her bed to her chest. Warm tears seeped out of her eyes. That had been the day she lost everything. Soon after that, without the protection and guidance of her parents, sixteen year old Sylvia had finally been caught by the mysterious men who had so often come knocking at her door. They kidnapped her and took her here, wherever here was (she had been blindfolded), and she hadn't been allowed to leave since. Contrary to what he had told John she didn't work here, she was a prisoner here, just like him. To this day she didn't know why these men had followed her family so intently. The men who had kidnapped her belonged to an organization called The Wolf and this building was one of many that they owned. At first she had been put under maximum security and had been locked up in a similar way to Doctor Watson but after a few months they started to let her out of her cell to do little jobs here and there. It wasn't because they trusted her, no far from it; they knew that she wouldn't try to escape because she had nowhere else to go. She had nothing worth living for out there so what was the point in escape?

"Alright that's enough of that." Sylvia said firmly to herself as she forced her mind back to the present. There was no point in thinking about things you couldn't change.

She walked over to her sink and splashed cold water on her face. She let her mind wander again. And again her thoughts returned to Doctor John Watson, although this time she was thinking about something other than the feeling she had for him. John Watson was in the same position that she had been in when she was sixteen except for one thing, one crucial detail; he still had something worth living for. She had heard him calling out a name in his sleep, someone called Sherlock. So Sylvia decided right then and there that she was going to help him get back to them. She was going to help him escape, and she was already coming up with a plan.