"I see. If you'd come to the Yard so we can talk about it?" He inquired. I would. I had to. Also, though, I needed to leave the country. My flight was early, the plan would take off in a few short hours to take me back home, away from the maniac. John nodded to me and I looked up at Lestrade.
"Yes. I'll drive behind you," I did not long for the awkward silence that would ensue if the DI himself drove me. I feared more the side questions. Anyone with eyes could see the slightly obvious affections John and I were experiencing. I was able to sneak a glance at him, only to see he was in fact looking at me. I looked away and walked to the bathroom to fix myself up.
"Alright, I'll meet you there," I said. Lestrade took the hint and left us alone. I heard the front door shut and as I exited the bathroom, I watched out the window to see Mycroft and Lestrade conversing outside. One looked up to me, then the other, and I moved away. I shut the curtains behind me and went to exit the room. John followed me to the door and when I turned he spoke before I could.
"I'm coming with you," He said, but I shook my head. I was exhausted and must have looked terribly so. I put a hand on his chest.
"I can do this," I said to him. He wouldn't listen to me. He opened the door and gestured me out. I did so and he followed, locking the flat behind him. As we went down the stairs, all that was heard was the difference between the thudding of John's boots and the tapping of my flats echoing through the hallway. Mrs. Hudson was at the end of the stairs, at first wearing a smile. When she saw the solemn two of us swiftly making our way done the stairs, that gentle old smile disappeared and she turned out of our way with a frown and watched us go. The air outside gave me a little peace. Inside I had been stifling. In America, I spent as much time outside as I could. Before I had moved, I was shut inside. No one was to see me or visit me. I could not go to school, work, or even the store. This was why I had to do what I did. I could not live as a person shut up all her life. I had to be strong and push on away from my dangers. They were all convinced that the man who had done the terrible things to me had been killed in the fire I set. They told me his bones lay there among the ash. I did not believe it; I could not. He swore to me before I found my way out that he would find me and he would make me pay.
The sound of someone laying on their horn and the feeling of someone touching me took me out of my deep dark thoughts. We were sitting at a green light and the folks behind me were clearly unhappy we had not gone yet. John's hand was on my arm and he moved it once I looked to him. I pressed on the gas and we moved on toward the Yard.
"Are you alright?" He asked. I did not answer. It really was a question that did not warrant an answer and both he and I knew it. I wasn't alright. I didn't think I would ever be alright again, but then for some reason I was glad John had come. I wondered if I would have been able to even make it to the Yard if John had not been there as a reminder that someone cared for me. When we pulled up, I shut off the engine, undid my seat belt, and just sat there staring into the steering wheel. John did not move or speak, just let me drown in my thoughts, a sentiment I appreciated, but hated all the same. I opened the door and exited the car slowly, taking with me my cellphone and keys. When John got out of the car I locked it, pressing my thumb hard on the small button. The little clicker they'd given me was mostly defective, but this time it locked instantly with a flash of yellow lights and a light beeping from the car. I went around the front and on my way to the Yard, I let my hand slip into John's. It felt right, comfortable, and necessary. No matter how tight I squeezed, he did not let go. Despite staring, we kept together as we went to Lestrade's office. I was ready to do this, to finally talk about the past that lingered in my dreams. I just hoped Lestrade was ready to help me.
Upon entering the Inspector's office, he ushered us into comfortable seats in front of his desk. He too noticed our hand arrangement and gave a little surprised look. We split our hands as we sat and the room was silent until Greg spoke.
"So, you're ready to talk?" He said, making absolutely sure I was. I nodded vigorously and he sat forward in waiting.
"When I was seventeen I was...you could say the rebellious child. Sherlock was unbelievably smart and Mycroft was already in a job and making mum and dad proud. Me? I had few talents and those I did, they cared little for. I was smart, but not as smart as Sherlock so it mattered little. So naturally I grew closer to school friends and spent less time at home," I paused, thinking of my childhood. I could barely remember my best friend, if I had one. I shifted in my seat.
"Well, A few of my friends and I were hanging about on our street when this really good-looking older guy...and when I say older I mean maybe a three or four years older than I...walked past us. Us girls of course marveled, but he only seemed to be looking at me. He asked me if I wanted to ride his motorcycle, said his name was Paul, that he played guitar, and I saw from his pocket and hands he smoked cigarettes. I said goodbye to my friends like they were nothing and went with him. As a teenage girl, I was hooked. I followed him like a lost puppy. We walked for about five minutes into the more unsafe part of town. On the upper side we called it 'ghost town' because there really wasn't many people living there and the ones that did would rob you without a second thought. I was weary, but figured Paul would protect me. We rounded a corner and I noted that instead of a motorcycle there was a van. A large van spray-painted white with no windows and no license plate. Seeing that, I was smart enough to know something fishy was going on. He saw that I knew and there was little I could do to stop him then. I tried to escape, but I was small, weak even. He slammed my head against the wall and from there I don't really remember much. All I know was when I woke up I did what I could to get out and I did. I started a fire in the cabin he'd had me in and ran for the hills."
When I finished I looked at both the men. Both of them seemed dumbfounded. John looked sad, even. Lestrade sat back in his chair. John followed.
"So," I said with a big sigh, "Earlier I went out of the flat to grab a bite to eat and an old man came in and gave me flowers from 'A Secret Admirer'. I don't get flowers and no one knows me here. The only time I ever got flowers before was after the funeral of the man who had kidnapped me. I was sent a large bouquet with 'From a Secret Admirer' on it. I know it was him, Greg. I know in my gut he didn't die. He's here and he wants me." I was shaking now and could barely control it. John's hand went to my forearm and it calmed me a bit, but I still felt like a wet cat. What if Lestrade could not find him? What if he got me first? He clearly knew where I was and was not afraid to let me know that. I was scared, not only for me but anyone he would go through to get to me. Mycroft. John. Mrs. Hudson. How could I put them in danger?