A Wife for Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 16 – The Evil Within
April 13 2012
Lestrade and Holmes stood over a woman in the East End who had been brutally attacked, stabbed multiple times, and left for dead wrapped in a sheet in an alley. John was looking her over with Anderson as Sherlock looked about.
His daughter was now a year old and he had been married for a year and seven months. He was happy, content, and still solving crimes as ever. However, this case was different. Mari, his beloved wife was often not involved, but this case he knew he was going to need her opinion, despite the fact he knew it was going to be hard on her. She had consulted once already on a rape case and it had taken her a while to mend.
This would be the same, but he would be there to support her. He stood and lifted his phone. It was still early, only five, but already dark. There was something hauntingly familiar about this. Mari can you join us please? I need your thoughts. SH
I can leave Lizzy with Mrs. Hudson. On my way. Mari
She had become used to being summoned at odd times in a case. Lestrade would at times phone her or John, but more often her husband who wanted her thoughts due to her experience she had shown in linguistics and other fields such as psychology and anthropology both she had her degrees in. She had returned to work at the New Year and was happy to have something to do. She also had in March received her second doctorate making her have the most degrees of anyone Sherlock knew on the planet.
It took Mari less than twenty minutes to get there. She arrived, stepping out of the taxi, she paid and walked to the police line. She lifted her phone. I'm here, Greg. She texted for me. Marion
"You need to stay back Miss." The officer said.
"I was summoned." She said.
"Ah, Marion. Welcome." Lestrade said coming to the tape. He lifted it for her to duck under.
"What is it?" She asked.
"I am not sure why he called you. Not much in the line of linguistics here." He said. "Female, mid twenties to early thirties, raped, and murdered." Mari froze at rape, but then coughed and lifted her head. Lestrade looked at her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She said. She pulled on some gloves and Sherlock looked at her. "Hello." She said.
"Thanks for coming." Sherlock said. He squatted down as she did.
She lifted the sheet and looked at the body. Ligature marks on her neck, blow that would have stunned her, but was not lethal. "She was blitzed." She said.
"What?" John asked.
"The blow. Stunned her, but it didn't kill her." Mari said.
Sherlock was watching her. "Are you all right?"
"Perfectly." She said lifting her chin.
Lestrade looked at Anderson who nodded slightly. She then looked at the woman who was naked.
"She was pretty." Mari said. "Someone will miss her."
"Drug user? Prostitute?" Lestrade asked.
"Neither." Sherlock said. "More likely a student."
She looked down and then lifted her wrist. Her eyes widened and she took a breath before rising to her feet.
She moved to walk away and Sherlock lifted the victim's arm. A burn, more to the point, it was a star. A brand, and it had been done recently and from the blistering, while the woman was alive. "I need a picture of this." He said lifting his phone and taking the picture.
"What is it?" Lestrade asked.
"I'm not sure." Sherlock said. He rose to his feet and followed his wife who was halfway down the block.
He caught up to her. He caught her hand pulling her into an alley. "'And all the stars of mine are lights in the sky of my world.'"
"Pardon, what?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"What can you tell me?"
"He will kill again, but you know that."
"The hesitation marks, but why are you upset?"
"It is a rape case." She said. "I need to go home."
He took her shoulder. "What is with the mark?" He asked.
"No. Not now, Sherlock. Later perhaps." She said.
He blinked as she turned and walked away from him.
Startled he thought to call her back, but the stood watching her vanish into the night.
ZzZ
Lestrade looked at Sherlock as he returned. "She has seen dead before."
"She does not do well with rape cases."
"Then why did you have her come?" John asked.
"We need answers. In a hurry. Before he kills again." Sherlock said.
"How do you know he will again?"
"These marks are hesitation marks. He didn't kill her right off. He hesitated. Working up to the kill." He sighed. "He will kill again and soon. I would saw from the ligature marks on her wrists and neck, she was held at least two days."
Lestrade blinked. "So he could be out there killing again?"
"Hunting certainly." Sherlock said. "He likes red heads."
"Oh?"
"Yes. This girl was top and bottom. Much like my wife, but you don't really need to know that." Sherlock said looking at Lestrade's face. "Be on the lookout, Detective Inspector." Sherlock said and moved to leave.
"Hang on where are you going?"
"To see to my wife."
"That traumatic to see a woman so?"
Sherlock sighed. "My wife was brutally raped herself. I need to go speak with her."
Lestrade blinked again. "And you let her see this?"
"Yes, I needed her thoughts."
"You really are a cruel bastard." Lestrade hissed.
"What?" Sherlock asked.
John sighed. "Yeah. Imagine living with him." He said. "See you soon Greg."
ZzZ
Sherlock came home and found Marion had not come home yet. Mrs. Hudson came out from her flat holding Lizzy who had woken from sleeping. Sherlock took her. "Is Marion home yet?" He knew the answer, but still.
"No." Mrs. Hudson said.
Sherlock nodded and went upstairs. He gently changed his daughter before putting her in her own crib to sleep. He then lifted his phone. Marion where are you? SH
I am nearly home.
You didn't take a taxi? SH
No. Close to Baker Street. I should be home in less than thirty.
He sighed and frowned. John had gone to his own room when Sherlock, who was seated in his chair sat hands pressed together heard his wife come. She walked up the stairs and into the flat. She sighed seeing him and shook her head a little she turned to go to the bedroom, but he was on his feet, his hand on her elbow.
"Marion. Please."
"Sherlock. I love you, but there are times you can be so cruel. Even when you don't mean to be." She said.
She entered the washroom and leaned to start the water. She gasped startled that he had followed her. He shut the door behind him and folded his arms looking at her. "All right, sweetheart, out with it." He said.
She took a breath and seemed to ignore him as she slowly pulled her clothing off and stepped into the bath. He watched her feeling himself stir a little, but he resisted as she sat down and turned the water off. She then looked up at him. "What do you want to know?" She asked.
"The sign. The brand. It was made by heating something to over 149 degree Celsius." He watched her as she touched her arm and put it in the water, wincing. He knew that look. He had experienced it as well.
Flashbacks.
Mari shuddered as the images of her body being held down by more than one man, being forced to have sex, to being strangled and tied down, then the burn…a brand.
She gasped and looked up at him. Her eyes held terror and loathing…
He dropped by the edge. "You know this mark don't you." He said.
She took a breath and then nodded, tears in her eyes. He lifted his phone with the image on it. She took a breath and looked at it. Her eyes flicked up to him. Her breathing and pulse had become more erratic. He looked at her and then, without rolling up his sleeve, he plunged his hand into the water. He gripped her arm, lifting her forward up. Her left one, the same one as the woman.
He looked at her wet arm. Under the scars made by self harm, all those cuts were linear across her arm, but there was an outline under, near her wrist. The faint outline of a star. If he connected the marks, they made the exact pattern.
His green eyes lifted as tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, Mari…" He whispered.
"Do you have any idea what that feels like? To have a hot piece of metal pressed to your flesh, held there, making a brand."
"But why?"
She looked at him as his finger caressed her wrist softly. "A brand. What do people do to cattle?" She looked at him. She took a breath seeing his lost look. "It is a mark of ownership. I am no longer my own person. I belong to someone. It is a way to take away even basic freedom." She said.
He looked at her. "No."
"No?"
"No I have no idea what it is like." He took a breath. "But I do want to be supportive. I know what pain this has caused you. But if that man is active again and this time killing women not just raping them." He looked at her, shifting to look at her. "You are the only one who can help."
"No." She said. "I am not the only one."
"Absolutely not. Are you insane?"
"You have a killer who liked women. He can offer his insights just as well as I can." She sighed. "More so I was a little girl who lost a month."
"How many men?" He asked.
"At least three, but only one…the youngest…did anything."
"What about the others?"
"They each had their turn, but then…"
"Then?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Then they watched…"
"Vermin in packs." He hissed.
She took a breath. "Yes."
He looked at her. "You said, ''And all the stars of mine are lights in the sky of my world', before. What does that mean?"
She took a shaky breath. "The man. He called me one of his stars." She said. "The light of his world."
"How romantic…" He said arching an eyebrow.
"Oh yes. So easy to forget that he has taken everything from you when he says such poetry." She said, voice dripping acid.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"I know. Sorry. It is just really…hard for me Sherlock. Even after so long…"
He lifted a hand to her cheek. "I don't care."
"What?" She looked up at him.
"I don't care what they did to you. You are mine now. You wear the wedding ring I gave you. It isn't a brand, and it is not a sign of ownership, just great affection and caring, such that I am capable. I love you with all my heart. Know that." He bent his head and kissed her scarred forearm. He knew well that this was just a manifestation of the scars on her heart and soul. He had his own scars and baggage, but she had been able to cope due to her own problems. They were well matched.
She touched his cheek with her other hand. "Sherlock. We have to go see him."
"He won't want to see me."
"He will if we make this interesting to him." She said.
"Just what the hell have you done to make him even like you?"
"That isn't important. I just talk to him." She said.
He sighed. "All right, but I think you are more of use."
"Let your personal bias be. He can help from one side and I the other."
He lifted his chin. "All right." He leaned and kissed her softly. "Hey. I love you."
She rose to her feet looking at him, dripping. "Take me to bed, Sherlock Holmes."
He smiled and rose to his feet. He then helped her step out of the tub and then lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bedroom, his eyes locked with hers before he shut the door and dropped his head to hers for a kiss.
ZzZ
Three more women had died, brutally raped, murdered, and left for dead like rubbish. All were red headed. Each had the brand, the mark that Sherlock explained to Lestrade, showing a picture of his wife's older scar. When Lestrade and Donovan failed to see it, he drew into the lines, connecting them.
These women were two weeks apart and had all been in captivity for two days or more. Lestrade was at his wits end and so was Sherlock, though when Lestrade asked how Sherlock had a scar on a survivor, Sherlock had nodded at Mari who was standing in the bullpen talking to Donovan. Lestrade had taken her to a room with her husband to talk to him.
Though high embarrassed and scared she seemed determined to lay this ghost. Lestrade then asked about the brand and she had looked at her husband. At a nod from him, she rolled up her jumper sleeve revealing the hundreds of scars from self-harm and the remains of the burn.
Lestrade was amazed by this revelation. They had a witness. A live witness.
But they needed more.
ZzZ
Sherlock took a breath as he walked with Marion to the secure room. He had not seen his brother in nearly eight years. Not since the day he had testified and put him into lifetime imprisonment for what he had done. Mycroft had helped putting the two brothers against their less stable elder brother.
Marion sat down setting down her bag as she looked at the glass. Sherlock stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder.
The door behind the glass opened and two men brought a middle aged man in and sat him on the chair. The two orderlies walked out and the man looked up, green eyes taking in the pair.
"Well, well, I always knew you would come walking through my door, Sherl." He said.
Sherlock took a deep breath. "Sherrinford." He said icily.
"Is he always so unfeeling? I remember him as the village idiot of the household." Sherrin said rising looking at his sister-in-law.
"I am not a serial killer." Sherlock said. "Which is more than I can say for you."
"Stop it both of you." She said. "Sherrin we came because we need your help."
"My help?" He said.
Sherlock sighed and moved between them. "This is clearly a waste of time, Mari."
"No." Sherrin said. "What can I perhaps aide you in, little brother mine?" He smiled. "After all you are the grand detective of London now. Why on earth would you need me?"
Sherlock took a breath and opened a file he had been holding. He pressed the picture open file, the morgue photo to the glass. "Monica Chelsea. 24. Star student. Dead six weeks ago." He said. He lifted another. "Kerrin Thomas. 28. Star athlete. Dead four weeks ago."
Sherrin looked at the pictures. "Pretty." He said. "I am not into red heads I prefer blondes."
"That really isn't the point brother mine." Sherlock said.
Sherrin looked at Marion. "So this is how he passes his time now? He is a father and now he solves crimes as a way to have the same rush and not use drugs anymore."
Sherlock growled and turned away.
"I didn't say I wouldn't help you." Sherrin said. "Let me read the files."
"Are you insane?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. Why the hell else would I be here? Now the files, Sherl."
"No."
"Do you want my help or not?" Sherrin asked looking directly at Marion.
She nodded and walked to the small two way door. She placed the files in the door. They had been thoroughly checked by the warden. He could see them. Sherrin smiled and took them. "Thank you, dear sister. At least someone in the family has a level head."
Sherrin turned and sat down on his chair dropping the files before him, reading them, looking for clues. He closed his eyes and then looked up at Marion. "These killing are escalating."
"What?"
"Like me, this man is getting bored." He said. "He is showing his true nature. Look at the stab wounds. First body they are shallow and lucky he took her life. Second he was surer, but still took a few tries. Third, he hit her aorta, killing her instantly." He took a breath. "These kills are not about the rapes."
"What?"
Marion looked at Sherrin. "Why do you say that?"
"These women are all hard marks."
"Hard marks?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. They could all fight back hence he had to surprise them. Many rapists chose their victims by how they behave." He looked at Marion and rose to his feet. "He treats you like a victim, doesn't he."
"What?" Marion asked.
"Sherl treats you like a victim. Why would he do that? Unless…." He looked back at the files and then up and caught Marion's gaze. "This is not about the rapes at all. It is a message."
"Oh?"
"This women are raped and killed." Sherrin said. "Someone, such as myself, would try to win these women over. Sex is not the object, neither is death. It is a game between the police and the criminal."
Sherlock stepped forward. "Or the detective and the criminal."
"Oh, so you can keep up. Better than you were as a child. Maybe those drugs did you some good."
"But why rape and kill them if that isn't what it is about." Marion asked.
"Why indeed, my dear sister? What do they all have in common?"
"Small build, athletic, red haired, smart, and…" Sherlock paused and then looked at his wife. "And all he has branded he has killed."
"Except one." Sherrin said looking straight at Marion. "His first. She is always his special. The light of his whole career because she shaped him and made him into what he is. Once he was able to get away with what he did, he had to do more to keep up the thrill."
Sherlock looked up. "How did you know Marion has the brand?"
"I didn't until just now." Sherrin said. "Lucky guess by how she is holding her left arm, covering the exact spot where the brand is on the other women…"
Sherlock whirled. "We need to get you to a safe place, Marion."
"You are welcome, brother do come again."
"Thank you, Sherrin, you were most helpful." Sherlock said. "I'll send a Christmas card."
Sherrin touched the glass. "Just keep her safe, Sherlock. I rather enjoy her company and it would be a shame if my idiot brother got her killed."
Sherlock pulled his wife out the door and into the hallway. He blinked. "Okay I will admit he was of use."
He looked at his phone as it chimed. Did you miss me?
He shook his head and took his wife home.
ZzZ
1 week later
Sherlock and John were in the main room while Marion was in the back with the baby. Lizzy had been cranky because she was teething. Marion had managed to get her to go to sleep after giving her some baby pain medicine and let her chew on a frozen baby toy. Marion had sprawled on the bed. Her husband was working on something in the kitchen. He was looking at something in his microscope while John read the paper.
Marion heard Sherlock's phone chime. He had been ignoring most of the morning. She did not move from where she was, but she heard John walk to the kitchen.
"Not now, I'm busy." Sherlock said.
"Sherlock…"
"Not now…"
"He's back."
Marion got to her feet and walked to the kitchen as Sherlock looked up from the microscope and read the text. Come and Play. Tower Hill. Jim Moriarty x.
Sherlock took a breath and then looked at Marion who looked at him.
"Who is it?" She asked. He passed his phone to her. She read and then looked up at him, wide eyed.
"I have to go to Scotland Yard." He rose to his feet and walked to her. He took her hand and bent pressing a kiss to her mouth even as she didn't respond. He let go of her hand. "I will be back soon."
She nodded. "Be safe." She said remembering this was the name of the man. He had tried to blow up Sherlock and John before leaving because of a call. John had told her about the ending of "The Great Game" as he called it. He had been the one put in a bomb and it had affected him. Marion had also almost died at his hands when her water had been tainted with amphetamines. Thankfully she suffered no lasting effects and Lizzy had been born only small and unable to suck for the first couple weeks of life.
Sherlock pulled on his coat and scarf and nodded. "Always, Habibi."
John had disappeared, but reappeared, dressed and ready to go. The pair left and went to Scotland Yard where they looked at video of Moriarty shattering the glass around the jewels using a diamond and a fire extinguisher.
Sherlock looked at the video that said. "Get Sherlock" and sighed. He looked at Lestrade and shook his head.
ZzZ
John and Sherlock returned home. Sherlock cocked his head. He could hear screaming. They had been gone only two hours, but the screaming was from Lizzy. He ran up the stairs and into the flat. He looked about and froze seeing a cup of tea on the ground, shattered.
John went back and picked up Lizzy who nearly instantly calmed in the arms of someone she knew. He held her as he looked at Sherlock as the man dropped down and touched the spilled tea with his hand as he scanned the room.
There was a bloody razorblade on the floor, the saucer, and a plate that had held something. He looked about. What the hell had happened?
Nothing else was out of place of the furniture, but the tea was still warm. Mari had left in a hurry only a few minutes before them. He moved to the stairs and looked. Scuff marks, similar from when the Americans had captured Mrs. Hudson, but in reverse.
He turned and then saw red hair on the door, stuck with blood to the door. Someone had cracked her head against the door, the only way to stun a Krav Maga master to kidnap her. Stunning her was the only way to take her down. She had beaten two of Mycroft's men quite handily even pregnant. Now back to teaching and her natural body that would be the only way to subdue her.
"Moriarty." He hissed. He pulled out his phone.
Lestrade. Marion has been taken. I need Anderson and a team of your least irritating people here. SH
A moment later. On our way. Lestrade
Sherlock looked at John as he bounced the baby. "Take her to Mrs. Hudson. We need to find clues to free Marion."
"She has been taken?" John asked.
"Almost certainly." Sherlock said as he heard the wail of sirens in the distance.
ZzZ
Sherlock was squatted by the tea cup looking at it. He looked up as Anderson came up with Lestrade behind him. "My wife has been taken."
"You are sure?" Lestrade asked.
"Yes. She would never leave Lizzy alone by herself." He said looking at the placement of everything. "Did you leave a message for us?"
Anderson looked at the cup and then the saucer and the bloody razor blade. "They hurt her?"
"No." Sherlock said. "She was cutting herself. See the drip pattern."
"She cut herself?" Lestrade said.
"Yes, my wife is a cutter when she is stressed of anxious." Sherlock said. "I smoke and she cuts her arm."
"The scaring on her forearm." Lestrade said.
"Yes." Sherlock said. He then looked about. "Everyone shut up!" He barked.
Anderson froze where he was beside the cup. The cup was shattered and the tea splashed and cooling. Lestrade stood near the kitchen with John and they all stayed put.
It was Anderson who spoke first. "Sherlock. Why did she drop the tea when she was seated?"
"What?" Sherlock and Lestrade asked.
"She was sitting here, cutting herself and the tea is there." Anderson cocked his head lifting an ultraviolet light to the tea as Sherlock looked down. H-E-L-P was washed by the tea, but still remained in blood under it. She had written it in her own blood. She knew she was in danger.
Sherlock blinked. "That actually was quite brilliant, Anderson."
"Thank you."
Sherlock lifted his phone. "But how did she know?" He looked and then saw that the chair had been moved as well as the table according to the marks on the floor. "They moved everything back, but didn't have time to move the tea."
"What?" Lestrade asked.
"The marks. The chair was two inches that way and the table was four inches closer." He cocked his head and then lifted his phone. He dialed his wife. A second passed and then her tone, a melody played. He looked and then reached for it in the cushions of her chair. He took a breath. "They wanted to make it look like she had just left, but she spoiled it, by spilling tea."
He lifted it and flicked it open knowing her code. He went to her messages. Well hello darling, you look beautiful, mind if I join you? Jim
Who are you?
If you don't know you will soon. Tell Sherlock hi for me. Jim.
On our way home, Mari. SH
"Jim who?" Lestrade asked.
"Jim Moriarty." Sherlock said.
"He can't send these. He is in prison."
"I don't think you realize his web." Sherlock said. He took a breath. "It is a warning."
"He tried to kill her once."
"And he will try again." Sherlock said.
Sherlock's phone chimed and he looked down. We have been here before. But don't be sore. Where the Tong go to perform, that is where you should swarm. She is in danger by the second.
Sherlock looked at the text and cocked his head. He put his hands together and reached for a nicotine patch. Applying it he took a breath and flexed his arm. He then looked at his phone again. "The Tong…The Tong…"
John came to him. "The Tong go to perform?" He cocked his head.
Sherlock took a deep breath.
ZzZ
Marion woke. Her arm ached and was dripping blood. She looked about. She had the worst headache. She found herself leaning. She put out a hand. She gasped as she encountered glass. She pressed about her as she became more aware. She was in a glass cylinder. She looked up hearing something and then she gasped as water started to dump onto her. She gasped as the water flowed at her feet. "What? Stop…What is going on?!"
She coughed as she looked up and the water poured into her face.
"Who are you?" She shouted and then looked down at the water at her feet starting to pool. Her greatest fear was drowning. She loved to swim, but could never in places other than a swimming pool because of her fear. She started to try to hit the glass, but she was weakened from her cutting herself and her head wound.
ZzZ
Sherlock sat quietly within his Mind Palace as the other three sat and waited. Then Sherlock gasped. "The Tong!" He looked at John. "The Black Lotus." He said. He rose to his feet grabbing his jacket and scarf.
"Wait where are you going?" Lestrade asked.
"The Chinese Theater. Thirty minutes by car, twenty-five if we have some help." He said looking meaningfully at Lestrade.
Lestrade nodded and moved to his car. He got in and put his light on the roof of his car as Anderson and John got in the back and Sherlock got into the passenger seat. They then started off with Lestrade's siren blaring.
Sherlock's phone chimed. Oh, great you can keep up. She is more than in a cup. Water, water up to the knee, but soon, oh gee! Help me, help me, she cries. Sherlock hissed. "He is drowning her."
"What?" John asked.
Sherlock passed him his phone as Lestrade weaved through traffic and called for help.
ZzZ
Marion gasped. She was up to her neck at the top. She tried to calm herself. She was of no use if she panicked. Sherlock would find her. She grunted as the water kept filling on her head.
ZzZ
Ten minutes left. Hurry up, she's dying.
ZzZ
Marion pressed her nose to the top of the grate on the cylinder. Soon. Too soon she would not be able to breathe anymore. The grate was set below the edge of the cylinder. Death crept up by inches. She gasped and tried to take as many slow breaths as she could as she pressed against the grate trying to lift it.
"Help me!"
ZzZ
Five minutes left. All the world is a stage, too bad she isn't a mage. Water can be so silly, just goes willy-nilly. But be warned, delay and all is forelorned.
They arrived at the theater and Lestrade looked. "It isn't open, we need a key to…"
Sherlock hissed and lifted a brick he found from the wall. It broke the glass and he stepped through holding his torch to look about.
"Or we can do that…" Lestrade said. "Sure what the hell. Life in danger…" He followed Sherlock.
Once inside they came to where the stage area was. A curtain was down and there was nothing else there. Sherlock looked about. "All the world's a stage..." He repeated.
Lestrade heard something. He went to the stage and put his torch about. On the edge there was dripping water. "Sherlock…look…" He said.
"Water." Sherlock said touching it.
He jumped back as the curtain fell down, saturated revealing a cylinder with Marion, suspended in it, not moving. "Oh my God!" Lestrade said.
John ran to it and looked at it. "Marion!"
Sherlock looked about. "Everyone get back!" He barked as he shoved a heavy crane piece at the cylinder. The metal shattered the glass and released the surge of water and Marion, who dropped lifeless to the floor.
John rolled her over and felt her neck. "Marion!" He barked. There was a pulse. She was alive…barely. He pushed her hair from her face and pinched her nose. He breathed into her lungs twice and turned his head as Sherlock dropped beside him taking his wife's wrist in his hand to feel her pulse.
"Come on Marion!" He barked.
Again John breathed into her.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Her pulse was fading.
Again.
This time she stirred, coughing, spewing water up from her lungs onto John who jumped backwards. Her eyes opened and she coughed hard. Sherlock rolled her onto her back and pressed the heels of his hands into her back to help her rid herself of the water. He didn't stop until she pressed back on her arms panting.
She panted and then smiled weakly. "I knew you would find me." She said looking up at them as she rolled onto her back.
"That was close. Too damn close." Lestrade said touching her hand. He lifted his phone. "I need an ambulance right away."
Sherlock looked at his wife, his eyes wild. She reached up and touched his cheek as her breath calmed. "How many times is this man going to try to kill me?"
Sherlock lifted a headband that she was wearing. On it there were the following words. When you deal with the devil, you will always lose and be burned. Sherlock shook his head. "He will not touch you again." He swore and bent to kiss her wet brow. "I won't let him. He won't play games with my family. Not again…"
"Oh?" She asked.
He nodded and held her hand firmly as he heard the ambulance arrive. He took out his phone. "Hello, brother dear. How are you?" He asked looking at his wife as the paramedics rushed to her to take her to hospital.