I wake up screaming. Not just "Oh no! I'm scared," more like "My life is slowly ending." And in a way it was. My eyes opened to a hospital room. Blank. Nobody there. I try to lift a hand to brush hair from my face, but they are tied down. I swallow, my throat like sandpaper. Blank. Where is anyone? John? Lestrade? Mrs. Hudson? Sherlock? My throat chokes. Sherlock. He could be dead for all I know. Buried already in a grave with two words: Sherlock Holmes. I close my eyes again. And when I open them I feel nothing. It's better that way easier. I don't have to deal with emotions or anything. No love, no hate, no loss. I lay there, just thinking. Until Mycroft comes in.
"Well, Ms. Turner, I'm glad you're finally awake."
"Ana, please," The words come out rough.
"Where are Sherlock and John?" I ask, worried.
"Sherlock is fine, he got discharged a few nights ago."
"How long have I been out?"
"A few days, the nurses thought it would be better for your healing process."
"And is John okay?" I question.
"Yes, he's fine. He just had a broken nose." I think back and I remember punching him. But I feel nothing.
"They are here right now, if you'd like to see them."
"I would like that. Thanks, Mycroft."
"Anytime, Ana." He walks out to get them and I prepare myself for whatever he brings back in. Sherlock and John walk back through the door. Sherlock looks fine, a little distressed and crumpled. John also looks good, his nose probably fixed, but there is still some bruising.
"Ana," Sherlock breathes, "You're okay!" He rushes to me and gives me a hug. I put my arms around him, but still I don't feel anything. I have to remind myself that it's better this way. It's kind of ironic actually, because now I know Sherlock feels more emotion than I do.
"Sherlock," John whispers, "Don't do that." Sherlock lets me go.
"Why?" He says.
"Look at her face." They both stare down at it. I stare back, with cold dead eyes.
"Oh, god." Sherlock says, and begins to pace. "Oh god, oh god."
"You've blocked your emotions haven't you. Good." He looks up at the wall then back at me. "D'you know what that does for the rest of us?"
"The rest of whom?" I say.
"Your friends." He says cold.
"No. I may have had friends, but not anymore." John looks puzzled.
"Look what happened at the flat, was because of me. If you and Sherlock hasn't of been there, then you would both be okay. Sherlock wouldn't be all loopy-"
"I'm not loopy," he retorts.
"And you wouldn't have a hurt nose."
"My nose doesn't hurt."
"It doesn't matter. I can't keep endangering you guys. You guys are too important to the rest of the world." I pause. "And to me."
"Look, Ana. I know it's hard to face your emotions. I live with Sherlock, but you can't live your life like this. It's not right." He pleads.
"It has to be. You guys are some of the few people in the world that I trust. And you have to trust me when I say this: I can't hurt you." John kneels by the bed and starts to untie my wrists from the bedposts.
"Ana," he mutters, "If you do this, you are going to break Sherlock's heart. Hear that? Break his heart. You have made such an impact on his life and there is no way that he can ever repay you, okay? He loves you. With all of his heart. He needs you."
"And I need him, but in order to do that, I have to be alone. It's what protects me." John looks as though I've punched him. He moves to the other side of the bed and I look up at Sherlock, still pacing.
"No, it's not. We will protect you, okay? It's what friends do." I shake my head.
"Yes, friends protect each other."
"Great, so we're on the same page." John finishes untying me and I rub my raw wrists.
"No. Friends protect each other," I repeat. "And I have to protect you guys, by being alone. I know you don't understand, but please try."
"I can't." John stands up. "We're here anytime you need us." He walks out. Sherlock stops pacing, walks to my bed, and looks at me with those gorgeous eyes that once made me melt. He places his soft lips on my forehead.
"Anytime." And with a swish of his trench coat, he is gone. I place my head in my hands, a lump in my throat, but no tears come.
The next morning, I wake up delusional. Screaming for my mum and dad. My hands are latched down again, this time with Velcro. I manage to slide my wrists out of them and try to get out of the bed.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" says a small, red headed nurse running in. "You are not strong enough to get out of bed." She gently pushes me back into bed.
"Oh, come on!" I groan.
"Ms. Turner, its for the best. You suffered some very bad injuries. You are very lucky Dr. Watson found you. You'd be dead if he didn't."
"Then, why do I feel that way inside?" I mutter, unintelligible.
"Also, you have another visitor."
"Send them in." I say. She rushes out side and in comes DI Lestrade.
"Ms. Turner," he says. "I'm glad you're doing better."
"Yes, thanks. Now, what do you need?" He raises his eyebrows at my rudeness.
"I need to talk to you about what happened to you that morning."
"What about it? My ex-fiancée showed up and tried to kill me. Is there anything we really need to discuss?"
"How did he get in?"
"I'm guessing through the door."
"Was it locked?"
"No, after Sherlock came in, I don't think I locked it."
"And why did Sherlock come over?"
"Because he heard me scream."
"And was that because of Mr. Owens?"
"Well, not really. It was a nightmare about him."
"And why do you think that happened? A trigger, or something?"
"Well, I had a date with Sherl-"
"Sherlock went on a date?!" He exclaims.
"Yes, with me in fact."
"Oh god, who would of thought… Never mind. Continue."
"Well, I was thinking that maybe I was feeling guilty, because I did walk out on him, but now I think that I could tell that he was going to come. I think my mind blocked it from me."
"Oh, and what happened after he came?"
"Well, he drugged Sherlock, then tried to kill me."
"Ms. Turner, what really happened?" I take a breath.
"Well, he drugged Sherlock, then told me that he'd always wanted to kill me. He took out a long silver knife and pressed it against my neck. I spat in his face and he slapped me. He pressed the knife harder against my neck, breaking the skin and he slapped me again. I said something about me being strong and he punched me." I gesture to my black eye. "He cut the skin on my forearm and then slapped me. I screamed. He dropped me. John came, tried to help me. I broke his nose. I heard John shoot at Chase, but he escaped through the window. I tried to feel Sherlock's neck for a pulse, but I think the paramedics thought I was trying to choke him. Then they stuck a syringe in me and here I am."
"That seems pretty bad. What did you feel?"
"Nothing."
"You felt nothing?"
"That is what I said."
"Yes, I heard."
"Is that all? Because I would like to bargain with these nurses to let me out of here." Lestrade smiles.
"Okay, I'll leave you to that." He starts to walk out, but turns around. "Just curious, you do like Sherlock right?"
"Of course I do."
"Good." Then he walks out. The nurse comes back in, looking the way that Lestrade left.
"Who was that?" She says with a slight blush.
"DI Lestrade. He's single." I say with a wink, hoping that will make her like me more.
"Oh." Her cheeks are turning crimson.
"So, when can I get out of here?"
"Um, I'll go check." I lay on the bed, when my phone buzzes. It is in with the clothes on the chair next to my bed. I reach over and grab it.
When are you getting out?
JW
I don't know. Nurse is finding it out. I think Greg might have a date
AT
Did he come to question you?
JW
Yup
AT
Got to go. Sherlock's bored
JW
Good luck
AT
The nurse comes back in the room, just as I finish sending the text.
"Um, as long as you can walk okay, you are free to go. Is anyone picking you up?" She asks.
"No, just me."
"Maybe that detective could come pick you up." I grin.
"I think he's busy."
"Okay," She looks at her clipboard. "So, about that walking?" I swing my legs off the edge of the bed and plant my feet. I get up and walk the length of the room and back.
"Okay, that looks great! I have a little paperwork for you to fill out and you can get your clothes on." She hands me a small stack of paper. I slip into my clothes. These aren't the skimpy pajamas that I was wearing, so Sherlock or John must have brought them. I grab the pen and quickly fill out the paperwork. Just a bunch of signatures. I hand it back to the nurse and she shows me to the entrance.
"Here" I hand here a slip of paper with Greg's number.
"Thanks." She mutters. And I push open the doors and stumble into the sunlight. I feel a strong hand on my back and automatically tense up.
"You okay?" A tall brown haired man with deep blue eyes asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Wow." He murmurs.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, its just beautiful strangers don't usually fall into my arms."
"Oh," I breathe and grin.
"What?"
"I don't usually get corny pick up lines from cute strangers." I giggle. What why was I giggling? I was in a relationship. With someone that could possibly get killed because of me. Oh well.
"Can I give you a lift back to your flat?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face.
"I'd love it." I nod.
We drive back to the flat chatting about nothing. He walks me to the door and gives me his number.
"This was great. I hope you'll call me." He says.
I reach into my pocket for the key, but there is none.
"Oh crap! I forgot my key! I'll just knock." I do that.
"I'll wait with you." He grins at me and I return the gesture. The door swings open.
"Who's this?" Sherlock says, hurt.