Guess who just got internet? So, I've got one more chapter already written and have started on another, however, I've no intentions of merely letting my other story, Hounds of Hell, fade into nothing. So! Enjoy this bit for a week or so until I finished up the chapter for Hounds, then I shall release another for all you Sherlock freaks!

Also, and this goes for all of my stories, I shall find some sort of story-related prize (probably either a camio, spoiler, or the option to add some input to the plot) for anyone who decides to draw some fan art! Send me a link (deviantart is where I post some pics, super easy), and we'll discuss your reward!

My Eyes are Open

For the first time in ages, it seemed, I could think clearly. There was no haze from a fever; no flashing darkness from the insanity of my imprisonment. I listened to the steady clicks of horses outside; the roar of an angry wind; distant voices shouting. I could taste and smell the moisture in the air. It wasn't raining yet, but a storm was surely coming. Still, the air was stuffy, as though I had slept beneath several blankets and my exhalations had been trapped around me. The faint sent of a fire; in a neighboring room, perhaps? It mattered little. I didn't need a fire. I had never been so perfectly warm and content in all my life. However daft it may seem, I truly felt safe.

Almost reluctantly, my eyes opened. Darkness. It couldn't be night yet; the streets were far too busy for after hour activity. Something moved. A breath? Since when do blankets breathe? I moved slightly to better investigate the abnormality. Something tightened around my back. Arms. Panic flooded me. A man! No sooner had the realization crossed my mind than my body reacted. In a swift movement, I drew my knees to my stomach and struck him with every ounce of strength my depleted muscles processed.

What would have been a satisfactory sound of his breath being forced from his lungs was drowned out by the sudden explosion in my stomach and back. As he flew off the bed and landed with a heavy thud on the wooden floors, my body doubled over, every muscle tense from the agony burning from the wounds.

"Holmes? What the bloody hell was that?" A man called from the other room. Slowly, the fire retreated, but my diaphragm was still beyond control.

"She's awake." Groaned a muffled reply. Clutching my screaming stomach, I managed to get to my knees to better meet whatever advances were surely coming. In seconds, the door opened. The man tried only briefly to hide the humor from his face as he realized what had occurred.

"Ms. Alansry," the fallen man started as he slowly got to his feet, "I've no qualms allowing you the use of my bed, but I would be truly grateful if you would make a decision as to whether or not you wish me to be in it." Even as he said the annoyed words, a smirk toyed with his lips. I struggled to understand his demands. "The past two nights, you refused to release me, yet when you woke it has, both times, ended violently." The thing I wouldn't release. I vaguely recalled how desperate I was to keep that warmth near me.

"My apologies," I whispered, suddenly finding the sheet remarkably interesting as blood rushed to my cheeks. "You startled me, is all." Amusement beaming from his eyes, Watson walked towards us.

"Well, you certainly seem more coherent today. How do you feel?" he asked; the professionalism only touching his words.

"Fine." I lied, forcing my hand to release my wounded abdomen. "You have my gratitude for your assistance, and I give you my word to fully repay you for your services, Doctor." With a pang of guilt, I added, "And I am truly sorry for how I treated you earlier." The amusement redoubled in his expression.

"Not to worry. It's good for the mind to occasionally be knocked down a few pegs." He replied with a smile.

"On that note, I must enquire as to where a lady learned to fight like that." Holmes asked. I shifted to a more comfortable position before answering him.

"I was the youngest of five children, and the only girl amongst them." I could only speak fondly of my upbringing. "My mother passed in childbirth, so it was left to my nanny to teach me the ways of women, whilst my brothers, in no gentle manner, taught me the ways of men." Being the only girl, their favorite pastime was to gang up on me. There was no choice but to learn to retaliate. And retaliate I did. On more than one occasion, I succeeded in besting the four of them.

"Well, that helps my pride, at least." Commented Watson as he leaned against the wall. Holmes chuckled.

"Where am I, then?" I asked glancing out the window. "London?"

"Indeed." The Doctor confirmed.

"Then travel will be easy." I muttered as I scooted to the edge of the bed.

"Nonsense," Holmes retorted blocking my way, "You shall stay here until your wounds have healed." Stubbornly, I looked him in the eyes.

"I am perfectly capable of caring for myself, Detective." I argued.

"Really?" He shot back. "Madam, it is physically impossible for you to clean and dress the wounds on your back. That is simply a fact." And, before the lie of going to a hospital crossed my lips, he added, "And, with your lack of at-home assistance and complete distrust of doctors, Watson here is the best suited man for the job." There was something he wasn't telling me; some terrible reason I couldn't leave. Holmes played the lie perfectly, but the near unnoticeable twitch of Watson's jaw and his flickering eyes screamed the truth.

"What is it?" I asked the Doctor sternly. He met my eyes for only a moment, confirming my suspicions. "What aren't you telling me?" I demanded more strongly. The floor suddenly became gravely fascinating to Watson, so I returned my attention to Holmes, whose smile had faded. In a true testimony to my determination, I forced myself to my feet and stood directly before the man filled with tainted innocence.

"Miss, you really should lie" Watson started, but I interrupted.

"Then tell me!" My voice was cold and unwavering. What could possibly be of such importance to keep me here and prevent me from learning? The obviousness of the answer was almost insulting. "He's free." It wasn't a question. Solemnly, the doctor met my eyes. Instantly, my body began to tremble. Holmes gently touched my arm, as though expecting me to collapse. I purposefully slapped him away and, disregarding the pain screaming from wounds, forced my way through them.

"Where are you going?" Holmes asked calmly. It took every ounce of strength I had to hide the agony coursing through my body.

"Thank you again, gentlemen, for your help." The anger in my voice was uncontrollable, though I didn't mean to direct it at them. I had to distance myself. This case had become far too personal. But how could it not? With what had happened, how could I not become wholly invested in it? No, I had to step back. Emotions would blind me to vital facts. "As I said, I shall fully repay you for your services, and I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused." It would have been proper and polite if not for how rushed the words were. Just as my fingers clutched the knob, Holmes put a firm hand on the door, holding it shut.

"Let me go." I demanded, staring coldly at the door. He didn't move. "Am I to be your prisoner, then?" His stance left his side fully exposed. A hard jab to his kidney would stun him long enough to land a hard punch to his nose. As he recoiled from such an attack, I could meet the retaliation Watson would then surely enact. Feint an attack on his bad leg; he would be expecting that and would then prepare to defend the vulnerable appendage, thus leaving an opening for a strike to the right side of his head. Using the momentum of this attack, I could deliver a hard punch to Holmes' stomach and escape before they could recover.

"Not at all," Holmes said light heartedly, leaning against the door with his arms crossed around his abdomen, "We are merely strongly advising that you remain here until I have apprehended the criminal and put a more permanent end to his operations."

"I do not require your assistance." I argued, recalibrating my offense. At this point, a knee to the groin, though dirty, would be most efficient to give me time to deal with Watson before escaping through another door.

"Certainly; because you have obviously deduced said criminal's whereabouts." He challenged. "His being a doctor would place his home in the richer side of town; more than likely in close proximity to the"

"Site of the disappearances of the girls," I interrupted, "The reddish dirt on his shoes can only be from the iron-rich soil deposits dug up from the construction sites near Johnathan Street. At the early stages of my capture, he made some attempt, at least, to clean the soil from his shoes, but such attempts have recently ceased. The construction was anything but new, and the scandal had begun no less than two months prior. This means that he must be new to the area, else he would have either found a new route, or would have ignored such stains from the beginning. From this I can be sure that he moved took up a new residence near Johnathan Street roughly around the time of my capture. I can be certain of his profession from the scent of surgical alcohol and iodine that always accompanied his presence, and by the precise way he checked for a pulse to ensure that I had not yet died. He is six feet, four inches tall; weighs approximately one hundred thirteen kilograms; walks slightly bow-legged, the result of improper riding; and has a false incisor. Such details dwindles the possible suspects down to a perfectly manageable number, I assure you. Again, I have no further need of your assistance." It was getting increasingly difficult to keep my feet beneath me.

Watson laughed. "Well, I say." Holmes smirked.

"Indeed, that would have helped you earlier, but since his capture"

"He would have gone into hiding, but from the state of his dwellings I can deduce his probable headings. I can find the men who worked for him, as well those who took advantage of such a business as his and gather additional data that may further narrow possible refuges."

"And you obviously are in no shape to perform such a search on your own." As though to support his claim, my disloyal leg collapsed. Effortlessly, he caught me against him. Even as my hands clung to him, I struggled to regain my footing and put some distance between us.

"I'm fine!" I lied resolutely, trying to rid myself of his hold.

"You're bleeding." He stated. Cursing my traitorous body, I bowed my head and desperately sought some valid argument. "Give your body time to heal, and we will find him." He assured me. Panting, my leg caved again. Without another word, he guided me back to his bed, supporting most of my weight.

"You must eat something." Watson said as I sat on the edge of the mattress. As he headed towards the door, Holmes retrieved the chair from the other side of the room and sat down before me. "In the three days you've been here, you have had neither a drop of water nor a bite of food. And God only knows when you last had a decent meal." My stomach churned at the thought of food, but I said nothing as he left.

"How did you deduce his false tooth?" Holmes asked after a moment's silence. My jaw tensed and I said nothing, trying vainly to rid my mind of the answer. "Ah." He dismissed. "And how did you come to have such an appreciation of details?" I couldn't help but smile at the answer.

"My father was a painter," I replied affectionately. "To a true artist, the details are the only things worth paying attention to." Holmes nodded.

"Quite true." He almost bit back the question, but the raw need for answers, which I knew so intimately, forced the words into existence. "Where is he?" Though his real question was, 'Why did he not notice my disappearance?'

"He is dead." I answered simply. Holmes was silent. "A thief tried to rob our home. I had taken a horse to town for to pick something up for dinner. When I can back my father, my brothers, and my nanny had all been killed and our home stripped of valuables." Again, he hesitated a moment, toying with the question I already knew was coming.

"Did you"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I killed him." I said bluntly. "I was twelve years old without a penny to my name and no family to speak of. So, I took to the streets. I found people were easily amazed by my simply noticing a few subtleties and revealing to them a few details most would overlook. It was borderline thievery, but it paid for supper and, eventually led to a career." I rested my elbows on my knees and looked in his eyes. "And you?" Confliction ruled his gaze before he finally replied.

"In college, I was taught the simple rules of deduction and later found my life ruled by them. The father of a colleague of mine introduced me to the work of a detective. What started as simple things about the campus became elaborate cases, and thus my work began." I said nothing as I looked at him. There was more behind his motives. As he met my gaze, I could see the words catch in his throat. With a sigh, the facade fell. "My father murdered my mother before killing himself." My jaw tensed, but I was silent "I later discovered that my mother was having an affair and my father found out." He swallowed hard, but his eyes never left mine. "When something like that happens," He wet his lips as he fought for the proper words, "the only options one is left with… is to find the truth, the reason behind it all."

"But it doesn't help." I whispered, "Knowing why doesn't fix it; doesn't make it right." He gave a quiet scoff.

"No. It doesn't. But obsessing over the details of another's problem"

"Keeps you from obsessing over your own." I finished. How often had I confronted myself with the same, horrible truth? For a brief moment, it was silent. An almost troubled smirk pulled at his lips.

"And I believe Watson has been eavesdropping quite long enough." He said, a bit more loudly, eyeing the door. With a touch of effort, I straightened myself as the blushing Doctor entered the room with a plate of food and a glass of water.

"I, ah, seem to have forgotten a, uh, date with Mary." Without meeting either of our eyes, he handed Holmes the plate and cup, knowing the likelihood of my being unable to hold them. "If you have need of me, you know where to find me. And Miss Alansry, it is my professional opinion that you remain in bed for at least four days." He hesitated a moment; at a loss for words, before uncomfortably excusing himself.

"Oh my," Holmes chuckled, "I seem to have flustered him." I laughed and rolled onto my back. The subtle pressure felt wondrous against the aching flesh. "Come, now. It is a very rare occasion for Watson to cook; you mustn't let it go to waste." Again, my stomach churned. I had to roll onto my side to quell it.

"By all means, then, enjoy it. I fear I would find much less pleasure in it than you." I admitted, letting my fingers roam over the smooth fabric of the sheets. How strange the sensation of such softness after experiencing such torture for so long.

"He'd have my head for sure." He retorted, yet there was affection in his voice. "Just a few bites, then?" he tempted. I stubbornly hid my face in the blankets. With a scoff, he tugged gently at the cloth. "Do you honestly think you can hide from London's most brilliant mind?" he challenged.

"You have yet to face Lambeth's most brilliant mind." I retorted, turning away from him.

"Hardly a fair fight." He dismissed, following me in his attempts to rid my face of the cover.

"Then forfeit." I mocked with a smile, briefly revealing my face that I might see his response. A smirk toyed with his lips, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Never." He said defiantly. "Watson said that you must eat, and I'll be damned before blatantly disobeying his orders." With a giggle, I retreated into the blankets. How strange. As he fought to strip me of my hiding place, I laughed. Truly laughed. I couldn't recall when last I had experienced such mirth. He laughed as well, rich and full. During our struggles, I continuously inched closer to the edge until the bed suddenly vanished beneath me. I gasped as I tried to prepare myself for the coming pain from the abrupt landing. Something jerked my arm, sending daggers into the still sensitive shoulder joint, but something firm, yet soft replaced the hard wood, saving me from the unyielding floor.

Holmes chuckled painfully beneath me, but the smile never faded from him lips. I couldn't help but laugh with him.

"I won." He stated, lifting his head to look at me for just a moment before dropping it back to the ground.

"I fail to see how!" I argued. He took a moment to catch his breath.

"You are no longer… hidden within the blankets." I bit my grinning lips and glared at him.

"Very well Holmes. You've won this round." I admitted begrudgingly. I tried to push myself back to my feet, but a sudden agony surged through my shoulder. With a strangled cry, my hand shot to the cursed joint and I collapsed back against Holmes.

"Allia?" His alarmed call barely reached my ears over the thundering of my heart. Trembling slightly, I ground my jaw and forced some control back into my limbs.

"Sorry," I mumbled; voice strained and breathy, "Just… a moment, please." For several seconds, he was still, locked in indecision. Almost hesitantly, his arms wrapped gently around me; more supportive than reassuring.

"You're shoulders were slowly pulled from the sockets from the position in which you were kept." He explained factually, yet with a touch of softness. This was nothing I didn't know but, for some strange reason, it comforting to hear him say it. "Watson did what he could to relocate them, but he voiced suspicions of torn ligaments and cartilage, both of which are prone to lengthy recovery times."So slightly, his embrace tightened and yet, almost instantly the pain faded. Though my breathing was still choppy, my muscles relaxed until I lay limp over him. A blissful silence settled over us. Almost in a daze, I basked in the wondrous lack of pain.

"Thank you." I whispered into his chest. Even as the words left my lips, I didn't understand to the extent which I thanked him. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for not turning me over to the false authorities and refuges. Thank you for your patience. For helping me. For taking the hurt away. "Thank you." Warm. I vaguely heard his voice, but reality was already drifting away.

"Holmes? What are you doing on the floor?" From a distance, I heard the voice, but couldn't bring myself to feel any hint of concern.

"I thought it best not to wake her." Soft words rippling beneath me; tickling my cheek. I nuzzled against the warmth beneath me to quite the vibrating nerves. Ever so subtly, something tightened around me. My body melted against it and a quiet sigh fled my lips.

"I was attempting to persuade her to eat." Whispers dancing around me. "I seem to have won to some degree, and yet lost at the same time." Something like laughter in his voice. Someone chuckled. Drearily, my eyes parted slightly. To some extent, I realized I was still lying on Holmes; that his arms were still wrapped delicately around me. My flittering eyes met his and, instantly, every murmur of worry vanished. Safe. A small smile. Weakly, I smiled back before the gentle lulling of his steady breathes coaxed my head back to his chest and the loving embrace of sleep reclaimed me.