Thank you very much for all the reviews, they were all greatly appreciated.
To make up for all the short chapters I have been giving you, here is a very long one.
You should know that this piece is divided up into two slightly different parts. I originally intended them to be separate chapters, but that would have made them rather short. They take place in the same time thread (can you say that?) but one of them is more centric on Sally Donovan's point of view.
Enjoy xx
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Sherlock's voice was cold, hard and dangerous.
"Who did this?"
Irene gulped. "I didn't see the kidnappers" she said, and her voice wobbled very slightly.
Sherlock gritted his teeth.
"The kidnappers weren't the only ones who did all this to you. They were only acting on the orders they had been given. Who arranged it?"
Irene took a deep breath before she answered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
"Moriarty".
Sherlock nodded at what he had already suspected.
No other person would have cared this much about kidnapping Irene. If any government that had previously believed her to be dead discovered her to be alive, they probably would have done a background check on her current lifestyle. Had they decided that Irene Adler wasn't exhorting information from various powerful people and using it as a form of blackmail as she had done previously, they would have alerted others, and kept watch, but they would not have kidnapped her.
And they certainly wouldn't have tortured her.
But if Moriarty had discovered that Sherlock had managed to fool him, well then he was bound to get his revenge. In the most horrible way possible.
He would have known that Sherlock had saved Irene; he was the only one who would have been able to pull it off. Moriarty would also have been able to figure out that Sherlock harboured feelings for Irene, because he wouldn't have cared about her welfare otherwise.
But Sherlock wasn't sure if Moriarty now thought Irene was dead, or wanted Sherlock to find Irene in an unconscious state, knowing that the detective would eventually want to get to him. For Moriarty, it was all a fun distraction. It didn't matter how many people got hurt in the process, the game was all that mattered.
Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, wondering what he should do next. He wanted to go after Moriarty, wanted to kill him for what he had done to Irene, but at the same time he knew that this was exactly what the consulting criminal wanted. By going after him, he would be playing right into Moriarty's hands.
Irene was looking at Sherlock, tears making their way down her cheeks. She had desperately wanted for Sherlock not to see this side to her, but her body betrayed her. Sherlock didn't really seem to notice.
He was staring intently at the wall, apparently deep in thought.
Irene lay back down, and pulled the blanket up to her neck, letting her hair cover the rest of her face.
After a few minutes, Sherlock's attention finally went back to her. His eyes closed briefly when he saw her curled up in the sheets, eyes red and slightly swollen.
"Thank you" he told her. "I know that wasn't easy for you".
He watched Irene for a moment, and seemed to be making a decision in his head. He nodded to himself.
"I'll go and get Lestrade, and tell him what you told me. I suppose you don't want to be interrogated now do you?"
Irene merely shook her head.
Sherlock nodded, and stood up. His lips brushed her cheek briefly before he left.
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Lestrade was waiting for him at the reception, discussing something with another officer. He looked up eagerly when he heard Sherlock's footsteps, and excused himself.
"Well?" he asked Sherlock, but the detective shook his head.
"No."
"Sherlock…" Lestrade started out, slightly frustrated. "We did have an agreement."
"She is in no fit state to be interrogated Lestrade!" Sherlock snapped.
He was furious. Furious at Moriarty for doing this, for scaring Irene, for hurting her so much (both mentally and physically) and furious at himself for not being able to have prevented it. And now he was angry at Lestrade too, because the DI couldn't see that Irene needed to recover first.
"I will tell you everything she told me" he said, in a somewhat calmer voice. "But she's traumatised, and she needs rest."
Lestrade sighed. "Sherlock, we did have a deal. We have to know what happened, if we want to catch the person responsible."
"I already know who it is" Sherlock interrupted. "I've been fairly certain ever since you found her in that alley way. There is only one person who would do this, only one person who would choose to dump her unconscious in an alley way in London, knowing that I would find her there."
Lestrade looked surprised. "Wait…you're saying that this was deliberate? That the kidnapper wanted you to see it." He frowned. "But why?"
"He knew that I would go after him" Sherlock answered, wondering at how slow Lestrade's mind could be. "He wants me to go after him."
"Do you know his name?" Lestrade asked, and took out his notebook and pen, ready to take notes. Sherlock nodded.
"Yes. And so do you". He paused for a moment, forming the hated name on his lips.
"James Moriarty."
Lestrade almost took a step back in shock. Of course he knew who Moriarty was; he had been informed of John nearly being blown up and Sherlock almost being killed.
"Moriarty" he repeated, almost shocked. "He arranged all this just to spite you."
Sherlock nodded stiffly.
"How do you know this?" Lestrade asked him, his pen flying over the paper.
"Irene told me."
"And how does she know him? Did he tell her his name? Or did she recognise him from John's blog or something?"
Sherlock closed his eyes, body tensing slightly, aware that he couldn't reveal anything about Irene's past to Lestrade. Or at least not yet.
"He told her his name. And it's definitely him."
Lestrade looked slightly uncomfortable. "I would still prefer to go in and talk to her myself, Sherlock. I can't be sure that it really was Moriarty. It could have been someone impersonating him." But the detective shook his head.
"I will tell you everything she told me. But you talking to her right now is out of the question."
"Sherlock, I need to interrogate her." Lestrade argued. "It's protocol. And, unlike previous occasions, you actually know the victim, which means that I can't count on you to be objective anymore."
Sherlock growled in annoyance, and wondered how he could possibly get his point across.
"Irene is one of the strongest women I know" he said eventually. "And the second she has to talk about what happened to her or say Moriarty's name, she becomes frightened and weak and terrified. You are welcome to interrogate her tomorrow, but she can't go through that ordeal now."
With that, he walked out of the lobby, and back into the hallway, making sure to stop three doors down from Irene's room. He pulled out his phone, and selected Mycroft's number.
"I need you to trace Moriarty and put all possible surveillance on him." he said, once his brother picked up. He paused slightly. "And I'm going to need a gun".
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In the end Lestrade decided not to interrogate Irene that day, choosing to spare her the ordeal. However, he went in the second day to introduce himself and talk to her, not about the kidnapping, but simply to earn her trust.
Sherlock visited her every day, but didn't always stay very long. He was working with half the police force and all of Mycroft's men, trying to track down Moriarty's whereabouts. But the criminal had decided to play hide and seek, and no one could find him.
John visited Irene too sometimes, and was shocked to see her so changed. She was sweeter of course, and gentler, because she had been living a very different life since Karachi. But she was also more frightened and more vulnerable.
After she had been in the hospital for four days, Mycroft himself appeared, his blue eyes icy and piercing, and handed her the new identification.
"I hope the name my brother has chosen is satisfactory." He said stiffly. Irene smiled.
Elizabeth Irene Stephenson.
Sherlock had decided to use her original name as her middle name. That way, it wouldn't arouse suspicion if he called her Irene in front of the policemen.
"Perfectly satisfactory, thank you" she said with overdone sweetness, smiling a tiny bit as Mycroft grimaced. He left the hospital immediately after that.
After the fourth day, Lestrade finally decided that it was time to have a proper interrogation. So far Sherlock had been providing most of the necessary information, but it became vital to talk to Irene.
She finally consented.
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The woman looked slightly shaken and was occasionally a bit jumpy, especially around men. It didn't surprise Sally Donovan at all; she knew that this was quite typical for victims who had gone through such a traumatising experience as this woman had. What interested her about the woman however was the gleam of determination which seemed to be always present in her eyes. Often she tried to cover up her pain and fear, and tried to make sure that no one saw or realised what she was going through.
This was something that Sally very much admired her for. She guessed that Irene must have had a very strong and independent character before all this.
Because Irene was still a little jumpy around some men, the police force had decided to let only women interrogate her, with the exception of Lestrade, whom Irene seemed to trust. Sally wasn't sure why, but then again Lestrade just had that gentle, caring quality about him, not to mention that he had been the one who had found her. Perhaps Irene regarded him as her saviour.
Sally made sure to be gentle with the woman, and led her to the interrogation room with the calmness and overdone gentleness as one might lead an invalid or young child. The woman seemed surprised and almost irritated by Sally's behaviour, but tried very hard not to show it.
The room wasn't the usual type of interrogation room; they weren't even at Scotland Yard. Lestrade had said that the usual cold and dark rooms generally used for this procedure were inadequate for this occasion, seeing that the woman had spent almost two weeks locked up and tortured in a cold damp cellar. Instead, they had opted for using the hospital lounge, which had been closed off to the patients at the hospital for the afternoon.
Sally's phone beeped as they neared the room and she flipped it open hurriedly. Lestrade was supposed to be present during the interrogation, but he wasn't here yet. She hoped that the text he had just sent would account for his current whereabouts:
I and Sherlock will be here in 5 minutes. Make sure Irene has everything she needs.
Sally groaned inwardly as she read the text. Sherlock was coming? She had thought that it had been made clear that the woman was traumatised, and having another man present during the interrogation wouldn't help.
Especially if that man was Sherlock Holmes.
All the freak would be concerned about was catching the criminal and getting the necessary information out of Irene to do so, not at all caring how he did it.
Having the insensitive and arrogant detective present during the interrogation would be no use to them at all and Sally couldn't understand why Lestrade couldn't finally put his foot down. After all, he had been the one who had given the order that no man other than himself was allowed to question Irene.
She sighed and led the woman into the room, deciding that the least she could do was to prepare her for what she was about to go through. "Listen" she began. "Someone else other than DI Lestrade is coming for the interrogation and he is generally …rather impolite and tactless."
Irene raised her eyebrows, and Sally could have sworn that she smirked slightly, but she decided that it had only been her imagination. She looked at Sally as if she were analysing her for a second though.
"Impolite?" she questioned and Sally knew that if she wanted to prepare her for this ordeal then she should not attempt to be mild or classy.
"Okay, look" she said brusquely. "Impolite is a nice way to describe him. He's absolutely intolerable, and he's arrogant and rude and just plain inhuman. So the second that you want to send him away, just tell me. Okay?"
Irene nodded, and shivered slightly from cold, pulling her jacket more tightly around her. Sally didn't notice this, as she was making sure that the room was furnished with everything they needed.
Irene sat down on the sofa, wincing slightly at one of the countless bruises covering her body. Sally gave her a cup of tea, and sat down opposite her, studying her.
This woman fascinated Sally. She was strong and clever, although the experience she had been through had left her a little scared and hesitant. But at the same time there was some sort of quality about her, and armour or mask of some sort, which she used to shield her emotions and feelings from the rest of the world. Anything that might make her too vulnerable seemed to be dangerous to her.
She never really talked much, at least not to Sally, but the sergeant had the impression that there was so much more to the woman than she was letting on. She looked beautiful and was very smart and Sally wondered what she had done in her life before. Did she have a family, was she married or in a relationship? Did she stay at home or did she have a job?
At that moment Sally heard footsteps and saw Lestrade and Sherlock approaching. Lestrade wore an almost curious expression on his face, but other than that he looked professional and sympathetic. Sherlock walked behind him, all tall and impressive, his jaw set, a determined look on his face and his eyes flashing. She felt Sherlock's gaze on her, and saw him frown with disapproval.
Already irritated by his behaviour, she went outside to greet them.
"This is the Sergeant that's been sent to take care of her?" she heard him snap to Lestrade, who cast Sally an apologetic glance. She fumed and turned to face the detective. Sherlock did not look like he was in a good mood, which would make him even more insufferable than usual. If Lestrade couldn't tell him to back off, then Sally would do it for him.
"Look freak" she began angrily, but faltered momentarily at the look Sherlock gave her. It was a look of burning intensity and anger and yet there was some sort of new found gentleness in his eyes, which suddenly disappeared. Sally was sure she had imagined it, because all of a sudden his eyes filled once again with scorn, and he cast an impatient (almost longing?) look towards the hospital lounge. Sally supposed that he was eager to start interrogating the woman, and the thought made her mad.
"Be nice" she all but hissed at him, and was about to continue her sentence , but Sherlock simply threw her a look and swept past her into the room, dismissing all that she might have been about to say. Sally fumed at being ignored like this, but instead of telling Lestrade to get the freak out of here, she all but ran into the room to prevent the approaching disaster.
Irene had been looking down at the floor the whole time that Sally had been outside the room, but she looked up the second she heard Sherlock's footsteps. A smile broke out across her face, before suddenly being replaced by a look as if she were close to tears. Sherlock stared back at her, the intensity in his eyes suddenly a thousand times more noticeable, and for one (but seemingly longer) second there was absolute silence which not even Sally dared to disrupt.
A war was raging inside Sherlock and Irene. Both of them needed each other, needed the contact and the comfort and the assurance that only they could give one another, but both of them wanted to pretend otherwise. Not because they wanted to hide their feelings from each other (that boundary line had been crossed a long time ago) but because there were people watching them, and neither wanted to appear weak or sentimental.
The tension in the room rose, with Irene and Sherlock staring intently at each other, trying to anticipate their next move. And then Irene suddenly blinked, breaking the eye contact, but looked back at Sherlock with all the desperate longing and fragility she currently felt.
At that second Sherlock decided to stop pretending to be detached and cold. Irene was standing there, about to be interrogated about her horrible experience, and the least he could do for her was comfort her.
His weaker side won.
And suddenly Sherlock crossed the room in one fluid motion, and before Sally even had time to blink, Irene was in his embrace, burying her face in the nape of his neck, while he gently hugged her and stroked her back. Neither of them spoke, but simply breathed deeply, relishing the feeling of finally being able to touch each other.
Lestrade was doing his best to be professional, but even he couldn't mask his interest at the situation. Sally didn't manage so well. Her eyes bugged out, her jaw dropped and she blinked slightly, making sure that the scene before her was really happening.
She didn't manage to get any words out, though her mind was struggling to make the connections. Irene seemed to know Sherlock, because Sally was slowly starting to get a glimpse of the woman behind the mask. And Sherlock…well the hug spoke for itself.
Sherlock was showing emotion, he wasn't restraining himself physically at all, and he was actually comforting Irene.
The fact that Sherlock was showing attachment so openly stunned her. So did the fact that he had even managed to form one.
She looked at Lestrade, who was still trying to mask his interest. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Did he know about this?
But then how could he not have told her? She was currently in charge of Irene's well-being, how could she not have known about this?
Sherlock gently withdrew from the embrace, but still looked at Irene with the same intensity. Their relationship was a real one, it wasn't just about the sex; there was feeling, intensity equality and respect added to the mix. But the physical part of their relationship was still a fairly big part, and had they not had an audience, Sherlock was sure that he would kiss Irene until she was utterly breathless.
Irene almost smiled as she saw desire very briefly flash through his blue grey eyes.
Almost.
A part of her was almost…apprehensive? About being kissed, about any sort of physical relationship at all.
It scared her because a physical relationship had never been anything strange to her, nothing she had ever had to really fear. It had been her profession for a very long time.
But now she had to admit that it was slowly starting to scare her slightly. She supposed it was because of her attack, and the fact that she had been sexually abused for the whole time she had been locked up in that cellar. It wasn't so much the physical aspect that she was now apprehensive about, but more the emotional. Since her rescue in Karachi, her physical relationship had been restricted only to Sherlock, but now all the people who had tortured her had corrupted that.
Sherlock seemed to notice the apprehension that flashed briefly in her eyes, the fear that corrupted the assurance that was always present. His own eyes flashed with anger, and for one millisecond his whole face became furious. Not at Irene, he couldn't be angry at her for this, ever, but for the horrible people that had made her scared.
Before he had met Irene, John or Mrs Hudson, he could have dismissed the feelings that were currently bubbling inside of him, but now protectiveness and rage and passion (and dare he say love?) made him want to hunt these people down and kill them.
Lestrade was slowly starting to get uncomfortable with the silence and looked at the pair almost hopefully, trying to read into their intensive gazes. They seemed to speak a language of their own, simply by looking into each other's eyes. He saw absolute fury suddenly flash across Sherlock's face, and for a second he wondered whether or not the detective was angry at Irene, but he saw her nod slightly, and Sherlock took a small step closer to her, his hand unconsciously going to hers and nodding, before he composed himself.
"Shall we start?" Lestrade asked after a while, when both he and Sally grew tired of practically being excluded from Sherlock's and Irene's (silent) conversation.
Sherlock looked at him for a second, his clear gaze going right through him. He looked at Irene for a second, and although neither of them spoke, he seemed to know what she would have said.
He nodded to Lestrade.
"Yes".
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Thank you for reading and please review!
Laura xx