John's POV

I came down the stairs to find the couch empty. In fact, the entire living room was vacant. A confused expression came over my face as I walked through and towards the kitchen. They sat facing each other on opposite ends of the table, Sherlock's hands were folded with his eyes never wavering from the young woman's in front of him. She stared back at him, a blank expression never leaving her face. Looking between the two, I decided against asking what they were doing or why they were doing it.

"Breakfast?" I asked the two of them as I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Neither of them replied, a usual habit of Sherlock's. But, I made an executive decision for Asha, she needed to eat. It was painfully obvious that she hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, maybe even months. Frying some eggs, I kept a strained ear to the kitchen. Neither of them had spoken when I entered the room, and they continued their silence as I made breakfast. After the eggs were done, along with the toast and tea I had prepared, I carefully balanced it as I brought it out to the two statues. I placed Sherlock's tea in front of him first, not even earning a glance. But as soon as I set Asha's food in front of her, her neck snapped up at a speed at which it should have broken. The first emotion I caught on her face was shock-almost fear. She stared at me, her hazel eyes staring into my own as if asking if I had poisoned it. I sat down next to her, taking her attention away from the still staring detective across from her.

"You need to eat," I suggested to her, to which she quickly replied that she wasn't hungry. "How in God's name are you not hungry? You look like you're starving!" I had unintentionally raised my voice at the end and I watched as she shrunk back quickly, her shaking hand flashed out from underneath the table snatching up the fork. It trembled in her hands as she picked up a small piece of egg and put it in her mouth. It looked as though it pained her to chew and swallow the small mouthful. She looked back up at me as if to ask if I wanted her to do it again. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to force you… you just, you need to get your strength up. Sever malnourishment can permanently damage your stomach and other parts of your body." It was quiet as she took another small mouthful.

"Thank you," She said quietly, taking a sip of her tea. Sherlock hadn't said a word as she ate for a few moments, but the silence couldn't last forever.

"What about John sets you off?" He asked her blankly, nearly making her sputter and nearly choke on the food she had just swallowed. I quickly checked to make sure she was okay and shot a look at Sherlock. He ignored it and continued to stare at her, expecting an answer. I saw her eyes dart to me, and she looked pained.

"John is much… kinder than he was…"

"It's not his demeanor, it's his physical appearance. Your capturer, he was near your height, taller and more muscular; with an authoritative command and near his middle ages. He was forceful and manipulative, drugging you different times with different foods so you didn't trust anything. That's why you don't want to accept food, especially from John but did so when he commanded you too" Sherlock stared at her; the fork was hanging off of her fingers, the food forgotten. "And obviously he has threatened you that he knows people, will know how to find you and get you back if you ever escape." Now I watched her, I watched the emotions flood her face as Sherlock brought up the memories and thoughts. "But you still left, you managed to escape somehow. But he's probably still got your passport, any and all of your papers. You can't go home, you'd have to go back to him."

"I would rather die, than ever go back to him." She spat suddenly, anger flaring in her eyes as she stood up with such a jolt she jostled the table. "What do you want me to say to you?! You, who have stared at me all the morning and done nothing but watch! You watched me breath, watched me blink, no doubt you could read every little emotion that dared flicker through my timid and racing mind. Tell me this, Sherlock, if you know me so well, if you are as brilliant as you say and as you think than why haven't you figured it out?" She was glaring at him now. Sherlock looked angry, and I was surprised by Asha's outburst. It was as though she got all of her confidence back in one instant. It was a glimpse into a life we knew absolutely nothing about. As soon as it happened though, it was gone. She looked tired, and lost almost. "Why haven't you figured it out?" It was deafeningly quiet, the silence thick around us. She sighed, "Well, when you do, let me know; because I haven't figured it out either." With that, she abandoned her food and left the table. I looked at Sherlock when she left.

"What did she mean? Figure what out?" I asked him, as he got out and moved swiftly to the living room to pick up his violin. My question went unanswered, so I cleaned up the breakfast mess and tidied up the small table I as much as I could. When I returned to the living room, I flipped through the newspaper for any possible cases. But it was slow; nothing seemed to interest Sherlock at the moment, so they were out of a job as it were. Coughing came from upstairs, hacking and hard against the throat. Sherlock's voice interrupted my concentration.

"Why her?" I heard him remark before he went back to playing. My heart tightened when I realized that was her question to him. That's what she had meant when she asked him to tell her when he figured it out, because she didn't know either. Why her? And from upstairs in the bathroom, I could hear the soft sounds of muffled sobbing as she threw up what little food she had in her weak stomach.

Review Review! They keep me writing my dearests! I can't write without reviews!

And a question or two,

What do you think is the reason she was kidnapped?

And who do you think she will fall in love with?