Again, if you guys don't like the longer chapter I apologize, but I just can't help like making them longer!
John was over almost every day except on the weekends, before Sherlock knew it Celeste had lived with him for over a month and as the cool wind of October took over the warm August air Celeste was making wonderful progress even talking in full sentences. She had slept in her own bed since that first night, which meant that Sherlock had gone back to little to no sleep. One Friday night after John had left him and Celeste were sitting in the sitting room the fireplace going, Sherlock sitting on the couch clicking away on his computer, Ariana in the chair John normally sat in immersed in a book. She glanced up at him from her book and saw Sherlock sitting there the bags under his eyes had become more and more prominate over the past few days. Reaching over she slipped a bookmark in her book and softly walked over to Sherlock ploping down next to him.
He didn't look up, "Hows your book?"
"Fine." She leaned on him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Are you tired?"
"No, I'm fine." He lied.
"You're full of it you know?" She moved so she was sitting on her knees facing him. "Why aren't you sleeping at night?"
"I just haven't been tired."
Celeste reached forward closing the top of his laptop. "I'm sure the 243 uses for tabacco ash isn't that interesting." She took the laptop laying it on the floor and climbed into his lap facing him, one leg on each side. "Please tell me whats wrong?" She reached down playing with the sash of his bathrobe.
Sherlock sighed as his heart beat quickly against his chest, thankful she was far enough away that she was sitting on his knees. "Nothing is wrong, I just haven't been able to sleep. It happens a lot." As he spoke his hands traveled towards her each resting on a hip. She had changed into her pjs after John had left and he still hadn't gotten used to the effect they had when she wore them.
"Sherlock?" Celeste asked after a few moments.
"Yeah?"
"Can you explain something to me?" She got up and walked back over to her chair picking up the book she had been reading he couldn't help but watch as her hips swayed back and forth as she walked back towards him, climbing back into his lap. "There's this part in my book I don't understand..." She held it out to him and pointed to a part where the man laid down the woman kissing her all over before undressing her. "Why are they doing that?" Sherlock blushed, they hadn't really talked to her about feelings and sex just yet except for the basics so she knew why men and women were different, in fact he was still waiting for that moment that she would have a period, unless she had and hadn't told him but the pads he had bought hadn't moved from their spot under the sink still sealed.
"Well, they love each other..." Sherlock trailed off. "When two people are enough each other long enough often times they develop feelings towards each other and eventually those feelings become physical. And eventually they because boyfriend and girlfriend, and eventually husband and wife."
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" Celeste asked. "Or had those kinds of feelings?"
He thought for a moment, trying to decide if he told her the truth what would happen. "Well, I have... but I didn't act on them."
"Oh." Celeste was quite for a few moments looking back down at the book. "What was she like?"
"She was very pretty, she was short like you, with long hair, like you, and she was very smart."
"Like you?"
"Almost." He smirked.
Celeste relaxed and climbed off of Sherlock's lap thinking hard. "Do you think anyone could love me like this? I mean with all my scars and stuff?" Her fingers traced over the word 'love' in her book. Sherlock took both of her hands in his.
"I think that anyone who would judge you because of your outside appearance is a fool." Sherlock reached forward lifting her head up so he could look into her eyes. "You are beautiful Celeste and anyone who can't see that is an idiot."
"Sherlock..." She bit her bottom lip making Sherlock's stomach flip a bit. "I've been having these dreams lately... about a man..."
"Whatever it is, they're just dreams they can't hurt you." Sherlock said, he had been amazing at drawing John away from talking about her Dad he wasn't going to bring that on her now, not yet.
"But that's the thing... I don't think they're just dreams." She said quickly as he stood up and started towards the kicthen he froze halfway there. "I... I keep dreaming about this man... and he doesn these horrible things... I've even woke up crying a couple times... He does this thing where he takes one of those things," She pointed to the poker that sat next to the fireplace, "and he sticks it in the fire for a really long time, until it gets red hot... and... he..." She looked down at her hands twisting in her lap as tears splashed on her hands, "and he puts it inbetween my l-legs..." her voice broke at the last part. She clutched her chest as sobs raked her body, Sherlock twisted on the spot rushing to her side wrapping her into his arms. She hyperventalted as she clutched at his shirt as tears ran down her face staining his shirt and pants.
"Shhhh... I'm here. It's ok..." He kept saying rocking her back and forth. "It was just a dream..."
She pushed him away at this and began paciing. "It wasn't a dream!" She almost screamed. "I-I-It w-was re-real! I looked a-and there are burn marks, scars on the inside of my t-t-thighs! You w-wont talk about it but John has been telling me that if I have any kind of weird dreams th-that I should t-tell him." She paused taking in deep breaths. "But I didn't tell him because I-I..." She looked at Sherlock, "I wanted to hear it from you." She stopped pacing. "What happened to me Sherlock?"
Sherlock sat on the couch watching her, tears still running down her cheeks and her chest rising and falling quickly. He knew this time would come, he just wasn't aware it was going to come so soon. Slowly he stood and walked over towards Celeste but he didn't reach out and touch her. "Celeste..." His eyes traveled over her face before he reached out and took her by the hand pulling her back into him wrapping his arms around her back her head resting on his chest. "I'm so sorry I haven't told you... I've just wanted to protect you, make you happy..."
Celeste pulled away far enough to lift her head up looking Sherlock in the eyes. "Sherlock... I-I... I need to know why I'm having these dreams..." Sherlock opened his mouth as a thud came from downstairs. His head snapped towards the door as another thud sounded from the bottom of the stairs. "Sherlock what was that?"
"Go, hide. Now!" He hissed pushing her towards the kitchen. She stumbled almost falling but caught herself skirting around the corner into the hallway that led to the bedrooms as the door swung open she could heard a gruff voice speak.
"Where's the girl?" The voice said.
Sherlock stood in the middle of the room staring at a middle aged man with five o'clock shaddow on his face and a facial tribal tattoo that went down his neck where Sherlock assumed that traveled to more of his boddy.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I live by myself." Celeste sat frozen in fear at the top of the stairs listening hard.
The man chuckled. "Very funny Mr. Holmes. I know she's here. The boss told me himself." He took a few steps forward. "Now, are you going to tell me or am I going to have to kill you too? I've no problem with either. Killing you will just be a small annoyance, but I'll admit it'll make looking for the girl easier."
"You're waisting your time, there is no girl here." Sherlock continued to watch the man as he slowly made his way towards the couch.
Looking down at the couch he chuckled again before pulling out a pistol and pointing it at Sherlock. "Mr. Collins was a crazy son of a bitch, but he was more certain about the address his little brat got sent to." He cocked the gun. "So are you going to tell me or am I tearing this place apart?"
"Mr. Collins sent you huh? And how did he get this address of all places?" Sherlock said, biding time, hoping whatever Celeste had heard she would be smart enough to try and escape.
"Why when you had him sign that paper Mr. Holmes. Remember? You already had it filled out, address and all." He smirked as Sherlock's face fell for a moment. The address on the paper... of course...
"So why did he send you? He said he didn't care about Celeste anymore, glad to get rid of her he told me. So, why?"
"Well that Mr. Collins he got to thinking he did. Thinking that if that little bitch got her mind back she might start talking, telling people who have no need to know stuff about Mr. Collins. And well Mr. Collins, well he decided that he didn't want to spend anymore time in the prision than he already was going to. See he thinks that if he shuts her up for good she wont ever be able to squeal and he'll be able to ride out his 10 years nice a relaxed like." He cocked the gun. "So. The girl Mr. Holmes. If you would."
"I'm sorry, but I don't have her here. He must have seen the wrong address." Sherlock slowly inched his way towards the fireplace. "And if you would I'd rather us not blow my brains out here. You see, brains are awfly hard to get out of carpet." He paused reaching behind him towards the cast iron poker for the fireplace. "I know, I've tried."
Three things happened all at once. The man pulled the trigger missing Sherlock barely as Celeste rammed into the middle of his back just as Sherlock made to swing towards the man but instead missed sinking the tip of the poker into the floor. As Sherlock yanked the poker free he turned just in time as the man brought the butt of his gun down hard onto Celeste's head, sending an almighty crack through the apartment and Celeste crashing to the floor, a small trickle of blood ran down the side of her face from the spot that the gun had made it's contact. Before the man could gather himself and pull the trigger on Celeste, Sherlock swung with all his strength screaming, "CELESTE!" coming in contact with the mans head sending him flying backwards into a crumpled heap.
Sherlock dropped the poker falling, more of a throw, next to Celeste who's lifeless body laid there quiet and unmoving. The last thing she heard before blacking out was Sherlock screaming her name.