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Valentina woke up on the insides of a luxurious plane. As her eyes adapted to the light, panic started rising inside her. She struggled frenetically to take off her security belt as she tried to make some sense out of things. Her whole body felt numb and her last memory was falling into the freezing waters of the pond after someone attacked her. She needed to escape…
…but a set of strong hands kept her from doing so. She was startled by a young man holding her down gently on her seat. "You shouldn't do that, baby. We're about to land."
Valentina couldn't help but frowning at someone calling her "baby" but her face should still reflect some fear because the boy added. "Sherlock Holmes sent me to look after you."
She relaxed a bit. Sherlock was looking after her. That was good right? "I'm Santiago, by the way."
"Valentina." She responded with a shy voice.
"So now, Valentina, could you tell me why everyone seems do interested in killing you?" Santiago smiled.
"I don't know." Valentina responded sincerely and then she added with a sight as she looked through the plane's window. "I wished I knew."
Sherlock had an awful flight. For starters, he was trapped between two overweight tourists who drooled all over him during the whole flight. The flight attendance lady, a young politic science's student who had an enormous debt on her student loan and hoped to pay it with this miserable job, neglected his request for a meal containing at least one of the basic nutrients for his survival (he first demanded a wellington stake and potato soup, but given the girl's look, he decided to be more flexible.) and she had given him some rotten and salty peanuts.
He was so happy to get out of that mortal flying cage that he didn't even had time to complain or to explain the girl that with this salary she would complete paying her debt in twenty years and three months. Sherlock hurried to the exit and scanned the crowd.
"He's here." He whispered, trying to convince himself. "He must."
And then he spotted him.
John was standing there, searching for a familiar face. He hadn't seen Sherlock, but he already looked worried. He looked terrible. The dark circles under his eyes revealed Sherlock he had not slept well. He had changed his clothes and he wore one of those hideous wool sweaters. A policeman passed nearby and John lowered his head. It was clear that he was still paranoid about the jail thing, Sherlock concluded.
Over all, he felt happy to see his old friend. Right now, he was in an extreme need for someone to rely. There was also another feeling, some kind of anxiety for the reunion. Sherlock tried to not over think it (which was incredibly hard for him) and he approached cautiously.
"Hi." He greeted, more shyly that what he had wished to sound.
At the beginning, John didn't recognize him. Then, slowly, he began to process the image in front of his eyes. Sherlock grinned. John took a step forward and Sherlock guessed he would hug him. "Oh, well, I can bare one hug." He thought.
So it was quite a surprise to be hit straight on the face.
"You jerk! I went to your funeral, son of a bitch!" John's words were severe but they didn't match the relief on his eyes.
Sherlock had never been a good emotion reader. So he was kind of still a bit puzzled as he caressed his swollen and bleeding nose. He was even more intrigued when John pulled him close, this time for a hug.
"We have a lot to discuss." John finally stated when they separated. Sherlock nodded and they both walked to the food court. Sherlock noticed a good number of people followed the pair with suspicious looks as they walked away.
Two coffees and three and a half hour later, it was all set. John was relief to find out he was set up by someone and he wasn't responsible for Mary's accident. Sherlock didn't said anything when John explained Molly's reaction to his phone call, but his friend detected a flinch of pain in his eyes.
Molly was an issue. He would have to deal with her later. Now he had to keep his head cool and rational jut the way he liked it.
"So, what's up with the make up?" John asked mockingly as he pointed out Sherlock's black eyeliner.
"It was my disguise. Not one of my best, I agree." He admitted with a grin.
Sherlock…err…what are we still doing here?" john asked uncomfortable. He was clearly still paranoid as he looked around for someone to jump on him with a net to capture.
"Relax, John…Look, they are here already…" Sherlock calmly pointed at two persons who were approaching the table. One was a boy who looked jetlagged and pretty beaten up. The other was a younger girl, who was beautiful but looked very scared and pale.
Sherlock was frowning. As the boy took seat next to John, Sherlock made it clear he was not happy. "The deal was taking care of her."
"So I did. I'm Santiago Fernandez, nice to meet you." The young men shook hands with Watson, who introduced himself cautiously.
"She was almost chocked to dead, stupid. That's not okay." Sherlock hissed at the boy, who just stared back.
"How..?" John asked the question just because he had missed Sherlock's monologues during this year.
"She has trails of hypoxia. You know what that is, idiot?" Sherlock now sounded truly threatening and John swallowed as Santiago clenched his fists. "Is partial or complete deprivation of oxygen. Because hemoglobin is a darker red when it is not bound to oxygen, in cases where the oxygen is displaced by another molecule, such as carbon monoxide like the one Valentina ingested during the few seconds she was breathing on a plastic bag, the skin may appear 'cherry red' instead of cyanotic."
John analyzed the girl who apparently was named Valentina and spotted the little bright red points under her eyes.
"Santiago…" the girl finally spoke. Her voice was soft and gentle. "You must be hungry. Go get something to eat."
Santiago looked at her and then at Sherlock. Finally he decided it was better not to have a confrontation in the middle of the airport and left the girl his seat. John detected a small trace of concern when he left. He felt guilty for the girl's suffering. Apparently Sherlock too.
But why? What was this girl doing there? John couldn't make sense out of it, but apparently he couldn't made sense of much lately.
"What about the woman?" Valentina asked Sherlock and he seemed to relax a bit
"What about her?" he responded with a question and a curled smile.
"You said there would be a woman." Valentina's green eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Apparently she's mad at me. For some stupid sentimental reason I can't figure out." Sherlock rolled his eyes in frustration.
There was a sparkle there? Complicity? John seemed completely invisible as the dialogue developed. He was not only jealous but intrigued as well. Who was this stranger and why would she be "friends" with Sherlock?
"She's important, right? We must get her. So you can go get my mom." Valentina stated and then stood up. Sherlock nodded in agreement and stood up as well. They had actually started walking away before Sherlock remembered he was leaving something behind….
…His best friend for starters.
"Oh, John! I almost forgot." Sherlock realized, turning back suddenly. John thought he was about to be introduced, so he extended his hand, but instead Sherlock gave him a small ticket. "My luggage will be on the gate 34."
John rolled his eyes. Definitely Sherlock hadn't changed a bit. Santiago joined the group. John walked next to Sherlock as the two youngsters walked behind them and John could hear them talk.
"Here, I brought you pizza." Santiago offered a slice as they walked.
Valentina took it shyly but then blushed and mumbled. "Thanks."
"You know, I know it sounds like the wildest idea ever, but people sometimes actually eat the pizza and not just hold it." He mocked when he observed Valentina stared at the food like if it belonged to another planet.
"Thank you, but I don't eat food that touches" she enunciated the word with such repulsion that John discretely took a look back to see what was happening. "The ingredients are touching."
Valentina looked at Santiago with expatiation on her face, but he simply took the pizza away from her hands and throw it away. Then he disappeared. She looked disappointed of herself. "Good, he was slowing us down." Sherlock muttered, convinced he had got ridden of the boy.
So it was quite a surprise when he came back, handing Valentina a simple glassed donut and wearing a triumph smile. She thanked him and ate the donut as Sherlock sighted in desperation.
"Molly?" the voice on the dark caused Molly to jump back a few meters. She had delayed her arrivance to the flat because she couldn't gather the courage to get in. Michael would be waiting for her.
She pressed her body against the wall behind her, trying to gain some confidence. "Hey Mike, I was just about to call."
"Really?" the man asked sarcastically. Then he turned up the lights and revealed himself. He was tall and muscular fit. He wore his black hair combed back with gel and his blue eyes were surprisingly familiar. Except for the evil on them.
He stood up and approached Molly, who curled back a bit. He snorted and caressed her hair gently. "I told you not to go out, Molls." Molly started sobbing and her eyes filled with panic. " . ." he whispered every word into her ears
Then he violently grabbed her hair and lifted her body of the ground. She screamed as she felt the pressure on her head.
She had been there before, she knew what was coming. So it was a relief when the door of the flat busted open and Sherlock Holmes arrived on his shinning armor.
Well, he was wearing his signature purple shirt and traces of eyeliner, but Molly still thanked his presence.
Michael laughed. Partially it was just because he was an idiot but other part laughed because he didn't thought the skinny tall man could fight him. Michael didn't know that after just a millisecond of analyzing the image in front of him, Sherlock deduced enough and his eyes filled with mortal rage.
Next thing anyone saw was Sherlock tackling the gigantic guy and punching him of the floor.
Molly just stood there, caressing her hair and not believing what she saw. John also stared, after appearing at the door. There were two other people Molly didn't know, but they did nothing as well. They were all too shocked by Sherlock's violence. Quickly the strange girl advanced to the fighting pair. She placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and he turned back to see him.
"I think he's unconscious…or death. Anyway, he's no longer a threat." Then the girl looked at Molly and back to Sherlock. "Your pet on the other side, looks like she's about to have a heart attack."
Molly blinked twice. Once to process the fact that Sherlock Holmes was standing in her living room and twice to realize she had just been insulted.
"I'm not…! Who are you? What…?" she mumbled incoherencies, something that appeared to be usual whenever Sherlock was around.
But she never got to finish any of her questions because she was dragged out of the flat by Sherlock.
They went downstairs and they walked together through the dark and cold streets. Walked together meant that Sherlock dragged Molly around. Finally she got tired and stopped. Sherlock tried to pull her, but she resisted.
"Sherlock!" molly called in desperation. Sherlock turned around and Molly realized he seem conflicted. Flashes of several emotions ran through his sight. He was hurt, confused, angry…for a man who often showed no emotions, that was a lot to process at once.
"81-232-234-121. My cell phone number." He recited quickly, "87-300-500-000 UK's SOS number for domestic violence. 81-234-575-232 John's cell phone number. 81-335-353-678 Lestrade's number…" Sherlock stopped and Molly tried to make some sense of what he was saying, but given the fact that she couldn't, he explained with frustration. "Have you forgotten these numbers, Molly? Do you have some kind of premature mental amnesia I should know about?"
Sherlock was now screaming to her and she felt her eyes burning with tears. They haven't seen each other in months and all he wanted was to yell at her?
"No, Sherlock, my head is just fine!" she screamed back with resentment.
"Then why the hell wouldn't you call for help?" finally Sherlock exploded.
Molly then understood he wasn't mad at her. He was mad her being hurt. She felt the urge to cry. "I..I..I don't know."
Molly lied to Sherlock for the first time. There was a reason she had let this happen, but she wasn't ready to tell him. After all, he had just come back and there were no guarantees he would stay. Sherlock seemed surprised, but then he changed that emotion for anger; contained and elegant anger that to Molly's eyes, just made him more irresistible. "Fine. I'm going back to interrogate him." He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a last look before leaving.
As he walked away, molly could hear him muttering "I can't believe she's so stupid."
She broke off in tears.