Off the Beaten Path

(Holmes)

"HOLMES!," Samantha's pained voice cried out. "Damn you Holmes!"

I did what I could to fight them off, but my small riding crop was no match for the weapons they wielded. I tried anyhow, not wanting to go down without a fight. In the end it was her voice that hurt me most; her once soft sweet tone was long gone and was now replaced by shouts of hurt and betrayal. I had no choice in the matter, she would not have been safe if she had remained by my side, so I let her go, not knowing how or when I would see her again, and it was with a heavy heart that I fought against an impossible number; my broken Samantha's cries the last thing I heard before my world went black.

My body was immensely sore and the sudden jerk it gave when I awoke did not help the situation any. With my hands bound behind my back and my face pressed into the damp dirt ground, trapped in the confines of a six foot holding cell of some sort. Dried blood prevented me from opening my left eye, my leg felt as if it were on fire and if I hadn't known any better I would have sworn there was something in my head beating away at my skull.

"Art thou able to stand?" a rugged male voice asked from behind me.

I turned to face the bars; a torch on the wall dimly lit the corridor beyond my cell, where I could vaguely make out the shape of a man.

"Where am I?"

"Stand," the voice commanded.

"Where am I?" I repeated.

"Stand!" he yelled, cracking a whip along the bars.

With a groan I managed to get onto my knees, yet when I attempted to push myself any further a pain shot up the length of my leg and I collapsed back down into the foul dirt.

"I can not," I breathed out.

"Than thou shall remain here for the time being. No money is to be made if thou can not stand."

"What money? What is this place? What do you plan to do to me?" I asked, tenderly propping myself up against the stone wall.

"There are far too many questions in thee. It would be best to keep thy lips closed," the man snarled, wrapping the length of the whip around his hand and turning to leave, taking the torch with him.

With the darkness came rats and tortured moans from the surrounding cells; both undoubtedly brought on by the constant stench of excrement and death. From what I could tell the cells that were near to me were empty; of course that might not have been the case a few days ago, my mind cringed at the thought of the events that might have taken place in such a dismal place. There was little chance of me escaping, not with an injury and my inability to play by the rules. Even still my thoughts ended just as they began; with Samantha. I knew she was safe and that brought a faint amount of calmness to my inner self. But I was no good to anybody here, not to her or Mycroft's house keepers. What horrific predicament had I managed to put myself in? And the more important question was how in God's name was I going to get myself out? I was helpless yet again, in a strange place, with little to no hope of seeing the light of day again.

(Samantha)

Sleeping was not an option; not with my restless mind running rampid with thoughts about finding Sherlock and figuring out what happened to the other girls. The stiffness of the bed wasn't helping things. Each toss and turn was followed by a sharp frustrated puff of air and my fingers rubbing circles into my temples.

Oh yes, because that is clearly helping. My mind scoffed as I dug my fingertips into my head once more.

"Oh no," I groaned, rolling over onto my stomach and clamping my hands down over my ears.

Sorry Samantha, but that isn't going to help either. Can't cover up a noise that is coming from inside of your own head, now can you?

"Not now," I pleaded. "For the love of god just let me sleep." But no; my mind had no intentions of letting me sleep. It wanted to have seemingly pointless conversations and belittle me as it usually did.

We both know you won't sleep until you see your precious detective is in one piece.

"Addison said they wouldn't kill him."

Maybe not kill, but you heard those screams Samantha. Sounded awfully painful if you ask me.

"Well I didn't ask you, so just leave me be," I commanded, rolling onto my back and closing my eyes.

It'd be a shame for you to find him with a misplaced bone or two. My mind continued on. And it is not like you can whisk him away to the emergency room. Besides it's your fault. They were after you in the first place. If you hadn't tagged along he would be fine and dandy. Scooping up those lost girls in no time.

"Feel free to shut up anytime now."

If you insist.

Everything went quiet then. The only sound being the squeaking of the tree branches as they dragged across the window glass. The moon was as full here as it was just before we stepped through the bushes, and despite the light colored drapes it cast an eerie glow throughout the room. Removing the flat pillow from behind my head and placing it over my face. Doing my best to block out the moon light and force my body into some form of rest. But it wouldn't happen. There was too much worry and guilt brewing inside of me, boiling into a depressed emotional stew. Slowly trickling out in the form of cold tears trailing down my hot cheeks.

When the sun rose, so did I. Changing from my nightgown back into my own pants and short sleeved button down before heading downstairs. By the looks of it the house was primarily empty. Clarice and Mary sat opposite each other at a small table talking excitedly in hushed voices, clamping their hands over their mouths in failed attempts to quiet their snickering.

"Swapping dirty jokes ladies?" I asked dryly, pulling out a chair for myself.

"My deepest apologies Samantha," Clarice said softly. "Did we awaken thee?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping well anyway. Where is Addison? I assumed he would want to leave sometime in the morning."

Clarice and Mary exchanged looks.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My good husband-"

"Let me Clarice," Mary interrupted, taking a deep breath and looking my way. "Addison thought it would be better to go himself. He didn't want to risk the chance of the two of you causing a scene."

"Why on earth would I do something as stupid as that?" I asked rashly, pushing my hands deep into my curls and tugging at my hair in frustration.

"Not so much you," she said with a grimace. "Mr. Holmes on the other hand does have his moments, now doesn't he? Addison said the two of you seemed to be involved, and as unlikely as I find that to be, his reaction to seeing you may be a bit…drastic."

"And you think he would do something to ruin his chances of getting out of where ever he is!" I said through gritted teeth, letting my fist land loudly on the table top. The two of them jumped in their seats.

"I'm sorry Miss, I just thought it would be best," Mary replied sheepishly.

"Oh so it was your fault? You planted that little seed into Addison's medieval little head?"

Clarice wrinkled her brow, looking confused and glanced between Mary and myself. Slouching in my chair, I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling. Taking a few deep breaths of my own, I closed my eyes and rubbed circles into my temples with my fingers.

"Look, I'm sorry," I sighed. "I just…I just wanted to be there."

The rest of the morning was spent in silence. I sat on the well worn brown couch with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. Every so often Clarice would whisper something to Mary, who would glance at me and just shake her head before puttering around. Keeping herself busy by tidying up the house. I heard the door creak open and my head shot up to see Addison standing in the doorway. Alone.

His eyes met mine and he did his best to give me an apologetic smile while he sat beside me on the couch.

"Samantha-"

"Where is he Addison?" I demanded, looking at him through glossy gray eyes.

"Perchance we shall have better luck on the marrow," Addison sighed, patting my shoulder gently.

"He wasn't there?"

"Nay milady."

I swallowed the building lump in my throat and did my best to ignore the churning in my gut.

"Then where is he? You said he would be at the market! You said it everything would be okay!" I stammered out, brushing back stray tears. "Why wasn't he there Addison? Why?" I asked, frantically searching his sorrowful eyes for an answer.

"I know not where they have him," Addison glumly replied, studying the grooves in the wooden floor boards.

"Tomorrow morning," I said flatly, standing from the couch and heading towards the staircase. "We will look again tomorrow morning. And I'm coming with you."

"As you wish, Samantha," he said softly while nodding. "Surely thou will be back down for supper?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly; dragging myself up the stairs. The chances that I would be down to eat were slim. My appetite had vanished and was replaced with woeful determination to find Sherlock before someone else did.

(Holmes)

I jolted upright off the damp ground as cold water was tossed onto my aching body. The man with the whip from the night before stood outside the bars, with a bucket in his hand. He reached for a nearby chair and spun it backwards, resting his arms across the backing as he eyed me with a sinister expression. I did my best to wipe my face on my shoulder, which proved to be most difficult with my hands still bound behind my back. The sun crept through the small gap at the top of my cell, dirt trickling through as people passed on the noisy street above.

"Art thou able to stand?" The whip man asked me, just as he did yesterday. The pain in my leg was still excruciating; however I wasn't doing myself any good festering in my underground cage. With great care and attempting to not let the pain show in my features, I pressed my side into the cool stone wall and began to push my self slowly onto my feet. With a few groans and grunts I was standing on my own; sending a nod in my guard's direction.

"Now walk," he demanded.

I let my uninjured right leg take most of the weight as I gingerly limped around my confines. When I reached the other side I fell into the wall with a heavy sigh, reflexively grabbing hold of my injury. I could see now the deep gash that ran up my left calf as well as some deep bruising and swelling on the top of the lower portion of my leg.

"We shall try once more on the marrow. If thou art still having difficulties we shall send you elsewhere," The whip man said, his features still on the menacing side.

"Where am I?" I asked with ragged breath.

"East WhickShire."

"And what do you want with me?"

"It is not I thou should be worrying thyself with." His turned his lip up into an evil grin. "Walk by the time the sun arises on the morrow, or I shall turn you over to the Ealdorman." He stood and gave the chair a push with his soiled boot; sending it sliding along the floor and hitting a far wall.

Although the gap was small, the sun pushing through the space was sweltering. It must have been enough to make a man delirious, because as the hours wore on I swore I saw a woman's figure standing on the other side of the iron bars. She knelt down and sticking her thin arms between the spaces she offered a bowl to me.

"I have brought thee some water," she said with a meek voice. She smiled gently and set the bowl down on the dirt floor. I had thought she had gone, but the familiar scraping of the chair legs told me otherwise. She sat with her hands folded in her lap and nodded toward the bowl.

"If thou wishes to remain healthy thou should drink."

Hesitantly, I made my way through the grime and dirt, closer to the bowl, yet keeping my distance.

"I am Anastasia, the Ealdorman's daughter. Verily, he would disapprove of my presence here. I am not one to let a man die of thirst; no matter the circumstance. I am regretful for the way Rowan has treated thee, as well for his men. Ahh how I wish my dear father would go about things in a different manner, but nay, it is the profit that drives all his decisions. Alas! Here I am prating to a man whom I have n'er even met before. Drink now, so I can be on my way." She waved her hand in the direction of the bowl.

The chances of it being poison were small. After all, I do believe I would certainly be worth more money alive than dead. I inched my way closer to her still, until I was able to rest my head in the corner of the cell.

"Go on then," she said, her voice kind and gentle.

"It proves to be difficult madam, with my hands tied securely behind my body," I replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Aye, I suppose that to be true."

She got up from the chair and knelt down beside the bars, dirtying the bottom of her pale blue dress. Picking up the bowl and raising it to my mouth. The water was stale and hardly clean, but that made no difference. I eagerly drank in what my body had been deprived of, coughing some of it back up when I took it in too quickly.

"Thank you," I said between breaths, leaning my head back against the now hot stone.

"Rest now," she said, taking the hem of her dress and wiping away some of the sweat and grime from my face. "I suggest saving thy strength. Thou must walk on the morrow if thou wishes to leave this place." Anastasia took the bowl and placed the chair back where she had found it; then with another soft smile she left me to sit in solitude.

(Samantha)

I had made it a point to get up early. All those years of getting up before the sun rose to bake had me trained to be my own personal alarm clock. Not that I slept much anyway. The day as well as the night had passed much like the previous one. Even after a walk out to the barn, time still dragged on, slower than molasses. I was sitting alone in the dimly lit living room when Addison came tip-toeing down the stairs. He stopped mid step as he saw me leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Good morrow, Samantha," he greeted me. "How fair thee this fine day?"

"I'll be better once we get going," I said matter-of-factly.

Addison sighed and walked over to a large pantry just beyond the stairwell. He pulled out a thick roll of dark brown fabric and tossed it my way.

"What's this?" I asked, unraveling the heavy wool that was now in my arms.

"It shall allow you to blend in. It is not common for a farmer to bring a maiden with him to the market. Perchance they will believe thee to be in my employ." Addison packed a small basket with fruit, bread, and a container of water.

"Although we are traveling by wagon, it shall take several hours to arrive. Thou shall remain in the inside portion until we reach the market."

"I understand," I said slipping the cloak over my body. It went down past my toes and scraped along the floor and had a hood that drooped low, leaving just enough room for me to see what was in front of me.

"Let us be on our way then," Addison said, pulling open the door and leading me outside.

The carriage was pulled by two large horses; one of them I recognized as Linota, the same horse Addison was riding when he scooped me up from the woods and brought me to his home. The inside of the buggy was lined with two bench seats and in the middle Addison had made some type makeshift bed. A handmade wooden table with a thin mattress placed on top. I sat inside battling the heat while Addison sat in front; leading the way as if he had made this trip a thousand times.

I went still when we came to a stop. Straining my ears to listen to our surroundings. It wasn't long before the carriage door was pulled open and Addison was holding his hand out to me.

"Welcome to East WhickShire, Samantha. Many a mongrel reside here, it would be wise for thee to tread these streets with up-most care."

I took his calloused hand and carefully lowered myself down the steps. The sight was nothing like the tranquility of Addison's farm home. The streets were littered with stray animals as well as people. Both of which smelled worse than anything I have ever smelt. As we moved towards the center of things; booths began to emerge. Vendors selling anything from vegetables to bed sheets; all of them shouting out to the nearest buyer. Then came the men. They were either held in stockades or chains on their hands and feet that bound them to large poles. Some would cry out their trades as we walked by; offering their services in exchange for a warm bed and a decent meal. They didn't even seem to want to get paid in a real sense; they just wanted out of the horrid living conditions they were being forced to live in.

We passed one dirty face after another. When one of them got out of hand and tried to break free they were quickly stopped by a large man with an eager whip.

"Weren't ye jus 'ere good fellow?" The man addressed Addison as we got closer to him. His hands caressing the tight leather loop in his hands.

"Aye," Addison replied. "No harm can come of taking a second look."

"And I see thou hast brought another pair of eyes as well."

"The wench works with them more than I. Mayhap she shall have better luck finding me a farm hand," Addison said with a forced smile.

I continued to search through the sea of heads, eagerly looking for that familiar mess of dark curls and scruffy cheeks. Each pair of eyes I fell upon were not the ones I was looking for. All of them full of pain and sorrow, looking desperately to me for salvation. But none of them belonged to the man who clung to my heartstrings.

Seconds away from turning back to Addison so we could move on; a figure sitting all alone caught my attention. Sitting with his back to a post, chains on his legs and his arms and head bolted in a stockade. It was the splash of grey at his temples that drew my eyes to him and then he raised his head and looked at me. My breath hitched in the few moments we made contact. The warmth that I loved was now replaced with worry and pain; and that just made my heart ache even more.

I approached Addison's side and raised my cloaked arm and pointed to the lonely figure so far away from all the others.

"We shall take that one," Addison said firmly. Dropping a sac of coins into the man's hand. The man with the whip laughed and shook his head.

"He was lame not but two days ago. I was all but ready to bring him to the Ealdorman."

"I have no doubt he shall serve me well," Addison insisted.

"Very well then," the man nodded, pulling the set of keys from his belt and walking across the grounds.

"Return to the carriage," Addison said to me when the whip man was out of earshot. "Lock the door from the inside and I shall be there shortly."

"But I-"

"Nay," he interrupted. "The Ealdorman is nothing thou should have to come across. If he is truthfully here, I would rather thou await me in the safeness of my carriage."

I looked at him long and hard before finally nodding my head in bitter agreement.

"Go now, I shall come shortly."

I sat on the edge of the make shift bed with my legs crossed and my foot tapping restlessly. It was taking him longer than I expected it would and with each passing second I only grew more worried.

Who and what is an Ealdorman? My mind wondered as I anxiously waited for the buggy door to fly open.

"Beats me."

Obviously someone with some sort of authority. As well as someone bad enough to scare off Addison. Perhaps he is the Sherriff of Nottingham to your Robin Hood. My mind suggested.

"Or Prince John," I replied.

A pox on the phony King of England! My mind sang, making me smile at the memory of one of my favorite childhood movies.

A light knocking came from the door.

"All is well," Addison's muffled voice called out.

I unlatched the door and quickly pushed it open. Propped up gently along Addison's side was Sherlock's bruised and dirtied body.

"Aid me in getting him inside," Addison demanded.

I pushed Sherlock's other arm up over my shoulder and helped Addison bring him into the coach and lie him on the bed. Sherlock was hardly conscious; his breathing ragged, his face covered in dirt, and a few nasty looking cuts down on his leg. Addison handed me a bowl of water and a small cloth.

"It is not much, but it shall do until we reach the farm," he said, wiping his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. "We shall be going now."

Dipping the fabric in the cool water, I gently did my best to get the dried blood and other bits of I don't even want to know what off of his skin. He flinched under my touch; eyes snapping open and his hand quickly fastening on to my wrist. Sherlock loosened his hold once and smiled weakly when his eyes found mine.

"Glad to see some things never change," I whispered, using my free hand to push his damp hair away from his forehead. Sherlock reached up and pushed the hood from my head, trailing his fingers down my cheeks and tucking a few stray hairs behind my ear. I failed at an attempt to blink back tears as they crept out from the corners of my eyes.

"Come now Samantha dear, I'll be right as rain in no time at all," Sherlock said, brushing my tears away with his thumb.

"I thought I'd lost you," I said after taking a deep shaking breath. "When Addison said you weren't there was almost sure you were gone."

"Nonsense," he said taking my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Moriarty himself couldn't even stop me, much less a man with a whip."

I shook my head and lightly chuckled before dipping the cloth back into the bowl and continuing to clean him up. "Go to sleep Holmes. You need to rest so we can do what we came here to do."

"With Pleasure," Sherlock sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward before his eyes slipped closed and his breathing steadied.

A/N: Oh sweet lord please oh please don't beat me! I know it has been ages...I was held captive by a very aggressive nook color. I tried to make it a little longer for you to make up for my laziness. Hope you enjoyed! As usual let me know...It makes me happy and makes me want to write quicker XD

-Shelly