A few weeks later
I am unpacking the last few things in my flat as I hear men arguing above my head. I look up in annoyance.
"NO! I am not leaving!" That is clearly Sherlock.
"Yes, you are! Your brother needs you!" And that is John.
"Please, Sherlock! We need you." But who is that? I can't tell using only voices, so I go upstairs. I see the badge sticking out of his back pocket, not that I'm looking there… But I mean, I've got to observe right?
"Hello," I say, biting back my recent deduction, "Detective Inspector. Dang it!"
The man looks at me then John.
"Oy! You've picked up another one!"
I know exactly what he means by that, but I ignore it.
"How was your holiday?" I ask, polite. "Oh you don't need to answer that. I already know you didn't enjoy it much. I hate getting sunburned on the first day, when there is no aloe vera around. I'm just getting some tea, I ran out of tea bags. You don't mind, do you, John?"
"Not at all." He says and I busy myself in the kitchen, while Lestrade looks on, shaking his head.
"Lestrade we agreed that I am not coming out of this flat for anything more than an 8! Okay?" Sherlock plops down in the chair, like an angry kid and ruffles his hair. Dear god, I would kill to do that. Wait, what? Come on, this is the "I don't like anyone" Sherlock Holmes. I shake the thoughts from my head and continue on my tea making/eavesdropping adventure.
"Oh come on! It's for your brother!"
"NO!" Sherlock said, angry and folded his arms, "I am not leaving this flat and you can't make me."
"Now, Sherlock that's ridiculous. Quit acting like a child." John said.
"I'll do it." I remark, in a clear high voice, "I mean, I know I'm not as good as Sherlock, but I'm still pretty smart."
"Okay, but only because it is the last resort before Mycroft has my head. Let's go. John?" Lestrade grabs his coat.
"Right behind you. We'll get a cab." John says, as Lestrade walks out of the door. We follow him and as he gets into the police car, we catch a cab.
"Ana, I want you to know that there will be people there that will judge you and be mean to you and will assume things. I know that you have feelings, unlike Sherlock, and I don't want you to get hurt. I know that Sherlock really cares for you and I do too, okay? So just be aware and deduce in your head, then talk to Lestrade and I later." John says, his hand on my shoulder.
"I appreciate the concern, but I'm sure I'll be fine. I mean with something like this, call it a gift or talent, I've learned from all of the bullies."
He nods and we are silent the rest of the way, but my head is spinning.
Why did he tell me about this? Doesn't he know that I can take care of myself? It is so very interesting why he cares so much for me. I'm only his bloody flat mate and not really! And Sherlock, oh god! On the second day that he knew me, he defended me from pervy delivery guys! The Sherlock Holmes who never cared for anyone, cares for me. Well, and John, but he cares for me. I never thought that he would be like this. It really is very curious. Oh god, does he have feelings for me? Oh dear lord! That might just be awful! I must be the first person he's ever had feelings for! Oh god, Ana, you don't know that! He could love someone else that nobody even knows. And that person could be me.
"Ana? We're here." Johns voice breaks me from my thoughts.
"Um, yes, okay, that works." I say, dazed from my thoughts. We get out of the cab to see yellow crime tape surrounding the entire place.
"Okay, so basic murder, but there seems to be something more going on, because of the situation the woman was in." Lestrade says, walking up.
We start to walk in closer to the building and John pulls me in by the waist. I shoot him a quizzical look and he mummers into my hair, "Those are the people." I glance over to where a brown haired man with a long nose was standing with a lady with dark hair and a mean glint in eyes.
"Oy! Where's the freak, pet?" the lady called.
"Just keep your eyes down and walk." John whispered again. We get into the door, followed by Lestrade.
"Okay," he says, giving each gloves, "The woman is in the top room, and Ms.…"
"Turner."
"Ms. Turner, this may be hard for you. This was a very gruesome death." I furrow my eyebrows. What could possibly faze me?
John and I head upstairs, followed by Lestrade. We open the door and there is an empty room, except for a bed. The bed has a woman on it, stark naked, with whip marks all over her body. She is handcuffed to the four posts and looks very uncomfortable. But the most terrifying thing is the fact that there is a hole in her forehead. My eyebrows go up. Then everything goes black.
I skip into the bedroom, calling for my mummy. I was six years old and a cute little thing with dark hair and bright blue, all seeing eyes. The problem was I saw the image in the bedroom. My mummy naked on the bed, handcuffed to each post, with whip marks all across her torso. And the bloody, gaping hole in her forehead. My mouth opened wide in a scream that could have woken the dead, only it didn't. It sent my father in. My loving caring father, who at the moment, was my only family left. I ran into his arms and heard a loud strange noise. He collapsed next to me dead, a bullet straight through the head. I screamed again, but my mouth was covered. My body was pushed around to see a strange man in a dark suit.
"Your parents aren't coming back. Ever. You are mine. Forever." I kicked him as hard as I can in the shin and run. Out of the house. Into the street. Into an ally. Across the park. To the orphanage which I would call home for the next 10 years. My life forever torn apart, by a man with a whip and a cold-blooded heart.
A/N: Sorry if it was too gruesome for anyone! Thanks for reading! I hope you review; it gives me such more fuel to write! Thanks again to everyone following, or anyone reading at all!
CaughtInTheStorm