I sat up in bed sweat pouring down my face and breathing heavily. I looked at the clock on my nightstand the green numbers blazing 1:52 am in the dark room. I groaned and ran my hands through my blonde hair. It had been two weeks since I moved into 221 Baker Street and I was exhausted. I had nightmares about Kael that seemed to be worsening.
I threw my quilt and sheet off of me and got quickly out of my bed knowing that I wouldn't be able to sleep anymore tonight. I opened my bedroom door and walked into my sitting room turning on the floor lamp as I passed it. My pink flannel bottoms drug slightly along the floor as I walked to my blue chair. I sat down my long blonde hair brushing my shoulders which my white tank top kept bare. Across from me, by my fireplace, sat my cello encased in hard leather. I stared at it I don't even know how long before I stood up and grabbed it carrying it back to my chair.
I opened the case, the clasps opening smoothly, the smell of rosin and wood rushing at me. I smiled softly running my fingers lightly against the dark stained wood. I picked up my bow and carefully tightened it before putting rosin on it. I placed my bow on the side table beside the chair before I lifted my cello out of its case and stood it in front of me on its end pin. I held the neck with my left hand as my right plucked the strings making sure it was in tune. When I was satisfied a slow smile spread across my pink lips. Picking up my bow and placing it against the strings my left hand positioned itself on the strings along the neck to perform the song. I closed my eyes as my bow slid across the strings and the first lines of Pachebel's Canon rang throughout my apartment. I continued with the song my hand beginning to tingle. Suddenly half way through the song a shot of pain went through my left hand. I gasped dropping my bow on the ground with my right. I quickly set my cello on the ground. Tears coming to my eyes as I massaged my wrist.
"Dammit." I whispered pulling my knees to my chest. The doctors had told me Kael had injured my wrist when he grabbed it but I wasn't expecting this. I heard knocking at my door and looked at my mantle clock, three in the morning. Who would be at the door? I opened the door and was met with the sight of Sherlock in pajama bottoms, a t-shirt, and a robe.
"Good morning Eleanor." He said his eyes gliding over me. Observing. I shifted still cradling my wrist and thankful that my bruises were gone or just light gray spots on my skin.
"Hello Sherlock. Can I help you?" I asked stepping aside allowing him to enter. His eyes swept across my sitting room before he sat down on the loveseat in front of the fireplace.
"You were playing Pachebel's Canon for cell in D. Were you not?" I walked over to the loveseat sitting as far from him as I could while on the couch.
"Yes I was. Why?" I asked flexing the fingers of my left hand the pain finally ebbing away.
"You didn't finish because of your wrist." He stated simply looking me in the eye.
"Sherlock…" I said in a warning voice. He stood up and walked to my bookcase looking at my books.
"I may be called many things Miss Hudson but stupid is not one of them. The clues are all over you if anyone wanted to know. Your injuries, your usually meek behavior which is occasionally taken over by your previously fiery temper. It's obvious once you analyze the clues, you were abused." He said all of this in a monotone voice while looking at my books.
"How dare you!" I whispered angrily standing up and walking up behind him.
"How dare I what Miss Hudson? Point out what obviously happened. Ahh Chaucer a classic." He answered back picking up my hard cover copy of The Canterbury Tales. I felt my face heat up in anger and grabbed the book making him turn. His tall lanky frame looming over me.
"Piss off Sherlock! It's none of your business what happened in my past! I don't know or trust you well enough to confide in you!" I whisper yelled in an attempt to not wake gran or John. I saw Sherlock smirk his blue eye seeming to brighten.
"I seem to have you figured out better than you do yourself." He began walking towards my door opening it. "Also I would have John look at your wrist when he wakes up." I threw my book at him but he was gone and the door closed before it reached him.
The book hit the door with a loud thud. I crossed my arms and huffed angrily. How dare he get the last word! The bastard didn't even let me answer. As my anger flushed face cooled I realized I felt more like myself angry and fuming then I have in the three years previous that I had been dating Kael. What was Sherlock Holmes doing to me?
"Don't forget about John." I heard Sherlock's voice call through the door. I growled and stomped to my bedroom slamming the door. Ruddy bastard.
It was mid-morning before I finally walked upstairs to have my wrist looked at. It was aching making it difficult to concentrate. I walked upstairs in just my skinny jeans, tank top, and blue cardigan. When I walked through the open door I saw Sherlock sitting with his feet under him in his chair looking bored. John walked out of the kitchen cup of tea in hand and sat in his chair. I cleared my throat gaining John's attention.
"Hello Eleanor. How are you this morning?" John asked standing up again.
"Hi John, I'm okay. Well…I ummm…could you look at my wrist. I mean if you have the time, I just knew you were a…I mean are a doctor." I said now flustered. John gave me a sweet smile and set down his tea.
"Sit down here. I'll be right back." John said pointing to his chair and then walking to what I guessed was the bathroom. I sat down on the chair adjusting the flag pillow behind my back. I looked at Sherlock whose fingers were tapping rapidly on the armrests of his chair. Suddenly he stood making me jump slightly.
"Bored!" Sherlock yelled picking up a gun on the coffee table and shooting a yellow smiley face on the wall. I screamed in surprise while Sherlock began rummaging through the couch cushions.
"Sherlock!" John yelled as he walked down the hall with a first aid kit. "Did you shoot the bloody wall again!?" Sherlock ignored him and ran to the bookshelf and pulled out books tossing them to the ground in quick succession.
"John where are my cigarettes?" John walked over to me setting the kit on the ground.
"Sherlock we agreed that you would quit. I tossed those out weeks ago." John proceeded to sit on the table facing me. Sherlock ran to the kitchen and we could hear him slamming cabinets and drawers. I looked into the kitchen and watched as he ran about. I felt John carefully grab my wrist and manipulate it slowly.
"You used the last of the patches yesterday Sherlock." John said as he pressed my wrist. My head turned tracking Sherlock as he walked back into the room with a frustrated face.
"John I need nicotine my mind needs to stay active it simply cannot become stagnate. I can't end up like you, I wouldn't be able to think at all!" Sherlock ranted and rolled up his robe's sleeve flashing two nicotine patches already on the inside of his forearm.
"No Sherlock." John answered flatly bending my wrist making me flinch away. Sherlock walked to the couch and curled up on his side facing the wall.
"Well Eleanor," I jumped when John said my name, "the only thing to do is brace it and rest it. I'll wrap it for you if you would like."
"Thank you John." He smiled at me and pulled out athletic tape and wrap. As John wrapped my wrist I watched Sherlock, he was completely still apart from his breathing.
"This happens when he doesn't have an interesting case for a few days. Sherlock is just pouting. He'll get over it, there, all done." I looked down at my wrist and moved it slightly.
"Much better thank you again John. How can I thank you?" He shook his head then looked me in the eye.
"I have to go to the grocery store do you think you can stay here and keep an eye on Sherlock for me? It will only take a half an hour at most." John asked downing his tea. I glanced at Sherlock and shrugged.
"Sure thing John. You go do what you need to." I answered quietly. He answered with a smile and stood up from the table.
"Thanks Eleanor I'll be back as soon as I'm done." John called from the kitchen where he was washing out his tea cup and moments later he was out the door. I looked at Sherlock who appeared to be sleeping. I stood up quietly and walked over to the couch stopping between it and the coffee table. Looking down at him I saw how curly his dark hair was and smiled softly. In that moment he looked so sweet and innocent.
"Why are you staring at me?" He asked in a grumpy voice eyes still closed. I gasped at the sudden noise and backed up quickly forgetting about the table and falling back over it landing flat on my back with a loud thud. I heard Sherlock move and my view of the ceiling was blocked by his head. I looked up at him eyes wide and shocked flushing in embarrassment I sat up my hair falling into my face.
"I'll make us some tea." I said and walked quickly to the kitchen.