*Before you even begin reading this, I want to put in a huge massive TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter has torture as well as rape (I don't go into detail, but it and the aftereffects are there). So if those topics bother you, please please PLEASE don't read this. The next few chapters will be better. We're getting into The Sign of Three after this chapter. I will be using Ariane Devere (Callie Sullivan's) transcription. They're actually very detailed and I will be using that as a close guide, putting in Delilah where I can without changing the entire flow of the story. I do hope that you guys are enjoying this story and I am sorry for the heavy material in this chapter. Have a wonderful Sunday lovelies!*

Chapter 10: Thank You

"Wake up."

I groaned, feeling my head give a nasty throb. A hand struck me hard across the face and my head snapped back. I opened my eyes, watching as the room swam around me. My stomach turned and I threw my head forward, vomiting. There were a few laughs even as I felt the warm liquid spill down my front. I coughed, trying to wipe at my mouth, but I found that my arms were pinned down. I managed to rub my mouth against my shoulder, wiping away the vomit. I coughed again before I looked around the room, finding myself in some sort of warehouse surrounded by men, strapped to a verticle table.

"W-where am I?"

"Don't bother yourself with those sorts of questions," a familiar voice said. "Just smile and say hello to the camera."

I looked at my sister, head spinning. "I…I thought we were at the park."

"We were. Aling must have hit you a bit harder than I thought he did. Don't you remember sister dear?"

I searched my mind, coming up with a blank. All I could see was Sherlock in bed sleeping peacefully and me packing up my things. After that was nothing. I looked up at her. "I can't remember anything. Where are we?"

A hand came from nowhere, striking me across the face. I was met with the angry eyes of the man I had knocked out in the alleyway. "Shut up you stupid bitch. L doesn't want any of your questions."

"Easy Desmond. Let my sister here catch her breath and say hello to the audience."

"Audience?"

"Oh yes. You see, I managed to find our little detective friend's cellphone number. So we decided to send him a link to a website that is now broadcasting the entire spectacle. And guess what? Our wonderful friend Mr. Holmes is watching us right now. So say hello!" Olivia approached me, jerking my face to look at the camera on the tripod. "Say hello and then we'll get to our fun."

"H-h-hello…Sherlock…"

"Louder and clearer so that he can hear you. I want him to hear one nice thing come out of your mouth before he starts to hear the screams."

I felt my face pale and I swallowed, fighting back a shiver. "Hello Sherlock."

My sister clapped with glee. "Good! Good! Now, hose her off boys. I want her clean before we put on a show. Oh and grab that ring from around her neck. She doesn't deserve to wear our father's wedding ring."

My sister swaggered off, leaving me at the hands of the men. The one called Desmond approached me with a rather large hose, a twisted grin on his face. He jerked on the chain around my neck, tossing the ring into the darkness of the warehouse. Backing up, he nodded to another man behind him and I felt the water hit me hard in the chest, knocking the breath out of me. I struggled to get away even as he sprayed me down. As soon as I had caught my breath, Desmond was spraying me in the face.

I tried to turn my head away, but no matter where I turned, there was water. I coughed and spluttered, feeling as though I was once more in the Thames with no way to get to the surface. I knew I was going to die. In that instant, I knew that Desmond was going to drown me on dry land.

"Enough!" I heard a man bark and the water stopped.

My body sagged against my restraints and I began coughing and retching, struggling to catch my breath. A hand grabbed my face once more and I was looking into the eyes of Mr. Aling.

"Hello Ms. McKinley. How are you feeling today?"

"Go to hell."

He struck me across the face, the smile never leaving his. I felt my lip begin to bleed even as I stared at him. "Now, now, that's no way to speak to your nicest captor. You and I have a bit of a score to settle, don't we?"

I said nothing and he chuckled. "The silent treatment now, eh? That's fine. You won't be quiet for long, I can tell you that. You see, I owe you for the scar you gave me. I seem to recall a night in a pub in London when you threw a knife at me and it caught me right here." He tugged his shirt collar down, revealing a jagged scar on his collar bone. "I believe that because of this, you and I need to have a little discussion about proper meeting etiquette. Once we're done with that, Desmond would like a word with you and then a few of the other men would like to speak as well."

I heard the sharp crackle of a taser and I began to squirm, fear shooting through me. "You'll kill me if you use that on me while I'm still wet!"

Aling shook his head. "No sweetheart. You see the beautiful thing about tasers," he pressed it to my neck and pushed the button. I let out a howl of pain. "The beautiful thing is that it's not voltage that kills you, it's amps. And tasers don't have enough amps to kill you. Desmond, could you cut her out of that hideous jumper please?"

Desmond approached me, the blade of a knife glittering in his hand. He sliced through my jumper, catching the skin on my stomach. I bit down on my tongue, refusing to cry out at the pain anymore. I looked at the camera, hoping and praying that Sherlock would be able to get to me in time. I had no doubt that these men were going to torture me until I died. My mind raced for a solution to tell Sherlock where I was. Aling pressed the taser to my side and pushed the button again, holding it to my skin. My whole body arched and I felt my teeth grind together.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped, stepping back. "Oh, look there. A bit of a burn. Ah well. Let's see if we can match the other side."

He walked around me and I closed my eyes, trying to brace myself for the next shock. He placed it to my skin, but didn't push the button. I felt my heart begin to race with anticipation. Aling laughed. "I bet you wish you could give your little boyfriend a sign as to where you were. But you won't. He can't even track my signal back to this place. You're ours to play with for as long as we decide to keep you alive. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

He pushed the button and I heard the snap of the electricity even as my body bowed once more against my restraints. I felt the spit dribbling from the corners of my mouth, the tears streaming from my eyes. God how it hurt!

Aling stopped again, going to stand in front of me, running the taser between my legs. I whimpered, trying to close them so that he couldn't do what I know he wanted to. "Your sister tells us that the night you came to see us you had lost your virginity. Is that true?"

"Go fuck yourself," I said, trying to sound brave. I could hear the shakiness in my voice and I knew that he could too because he laughed.

"Oh, Miss Big and Bad eh? Not so big and bad when there's electricity between your thighs. You're a coward. Weak. Foolish. Thinking that we'd take you in? No…you've caused your sister so much trouble with getting this off the ground that she gave us permission to use you any way that we see fit." He turned to look at Desmond who was grinning from ear to ear. "Let her down so that we can have a good time with her."

Desmond released me and as I found my footing, I went to swing on them. But the snap of that damnable machine came and I was brought to my knees in a daze. A hand fisted in my hair, jerking me back.

"Now, we're going to have our fun with you you little whore and your boyfriend is going to watch."

I began to cry even as they tugged my pants down. I knew what was coming. I only wished that I hadn't gotten myself into this situation in the first place.

"SHERLOCK HELP ME!" I screamed even as the men descended on me.

Four hours later and I was once again strapped to the table, this time with a gag in my mouth. I had been left under a bright white light, the only source in the empty room. The men had gone and as far as I knew, I was alone. I felt ashamed and disgustingly filthy. They'd all had their way with me. I was hurting and in pain, the blood trickling down my inner thighs. They'd strapped me back into place completely naked, focusing the camera on me before leaving. I wanted to cry, but there was an emptiness inside of me now, a despair that I'd never felt before. I wanted to die, but I also wanted them dead for what they'd done to me.

I looked around, trying to see if I could figure out where they were keeping me. It was definitely a warehouse of sorts, but where I had no clue. My mind was struggling to come up with a way to escape. All that kept coming to me was their hands, rough and angry, forcing me to do things that I didn't want to. I shuddered, shutting that part of my brain down.

I could hear Aling's laugh in my mind. 'I bet you wish you could give your little boyfriend a sign as to where you were.'

'A sign! That's it! What did your mother insist on teaching you when you were a small child so that you could speak to your grandmother?'

I began to weep as that idea came to me. Slowly, I began to sign the letters, hoping and praying that Sherlock would get my message. I could only pray that he would.

'God…it's me, Delilah. I…know we haven't spoken for a while, but I need your help.' I barely even whimpered as they struck me again with a whip. 'I'm in a lot of trouble and I need you to protect me. Please. I am begging you. Please send me aid, protect me. I am sorry that we haven't had a chance to talk in a while, but I'm pretty certain that this is the third day of torture. My hands are getting too tired to keep signing all of the information I'm gathering and they are becoming more and more brutal. I can't do this anymore. I want to give up. I need help God. Please…help me.'

I faded back into unconsciousness even as they struck me over and over again.

'God, why won't you help me? I'm sorry that I've been so terrible. But I am begging you. I don't want Sherlock watching this anymore. They keep telling me when he's online and offline. Aling even installed an old stoplight so that he could turn it on and off. I think they're doing it to break me. God help me, I can't take this anymore. Its been five days now or so they say. I need help. I don't want to die here.' I grunted as Desmond struck me in the ribs. 'I know I've done a lot of bad things, but I had to do what I did to survive. I'm trying to do the right thing. But you have to help me. Please Lord, I can't take this anymore. I can't.'

I woke to someone's hands on me. I didn't even bother struggling anymore. What was the point? I was their human play toy. Even Olivia had had some fun with me the other day, cutting my hair and then making me eat it off the floor. I'd vomited and they'd all laughed, spraying me with the hose again. I was giving up. God wasn't answering me, Sherlock wasn't coming. I was alone and at their mercy.

I looked to see Desmond's ugly black eyes glittering up at me even as he ran his fingers down the front of my body. "Why don't you just kill me already? Get it over with?"

"Oh, don't worry. Your time is coming up. We want to get as much out of you as we can first. You're set to burn in a few days, a bonfire like nothing London has ever seen. A can of gasoline, a match. Same way your sister died." Desmond laughed. "Oh that's right. Your sister didn't die. She has been watching every single second we've been torturing you and enjoying it as much as we have."

I began to weep. When would this brutal torment end? For a second I thought I heard the sound of a car door closing, but I shook it off as the last few pieces of my broken mind hoping for rescue. It was never going to happen. Sherlock didn't care enough to find me. After all, I was only a tool for him to use on the case. He had no need for me anymore, now that he had one of their machines and the information from the memory stick. I began to cry again.

"Awwww, is wittle baby Deli crying? Don't cry luv. There's no reason to. Desmond will make you feel all better." He licked the side of my face and I let out a sob. "Now now, hush your tears. I'll be letting you down in a minute."

"Get off of her." The familiar voice echoed around the dark room and I felt my heart leap for joy. "I will not tell you again."

"And what are you going to do Mr. Consulting Detective. Shoot me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Oh I'm going to enjoy kicking your ass all across the floor and making her watch. Then you can watch in person as I play with her."

Out of the darkness, twelve red lasers appeared, all training on Desmond's chest. Sherlock stepped into the light, a pistol in his hand. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen. You see, I was able to track you all down. I have the place surrounded with officers from both Scotland Yard and some folks with the British government who are very happy to have you all in custody. I am giving you five seconds to release her or I will shoot, very happily I might add for disturbing me at all hours with that video."

Desmond turned, going to my side, unbinding me. With the speed of a viper, he had a knife at my throat, jerking my head back. "You all can shoot me but you'll kill her. Do you really want to take that chance?" Sherlock stepped forward and I winced as the blade bit into my skin. "I will kill her Holmes. Do you want her blood on your hands?"

"Kill her then. She means nothing to me." Sherlock's voice was cold and I felt my heart break at his words.

I tried to elbow Desmond in the ribs and he laughed, keeping his hand fisted in my short hair, jerking at the roots. "You want to watch her blood spill? Is that it?"

I looked down at Sherlock's hand, catching movement from the corner of my eye. My eyes widened slightly as I caught what he was signing to me. I took a deep breath before jerking to the left, using all the strength that I had to do it. I heard a single gunshot and the knife clattered to the floor. I turned to see Desmond falling backwards, his eye socket missing. The lights came up in the warehouse and I saw John standing behind Sherlock, his own pistol out, trained on where Desmond had been standing. I curled into a small ball, trying to hide my shame and my nakedness from all of the people in the room.

I heard footsteps approaching me and felt a hand on me. I shrunk away, trembling in fear. "Easy Delilah. Easy. We're going to get you checked out. It's over now. You're safe."

"Don't touch me!" I cried, trying my best to scramble away from Sherlock despite my lack of strength. "None of you fucking touch me! DON'T!"

I felt a coat cover me and Sherlock walked away. I lay on the floor even as people ran around in the rooms surrounding us. I could see Sherlock from the corner of my eye inspecting some of the things on the table as well as the camera. Another hand touched my shoulder and I screamed, trying to get away from them, the fear overwhelming my senses.

"It's me Del. It's me. Hush. It's Mary."

I looked up to see Mary kneeling next to me, a look of sorrow on her face. "Mary?"

She nodded and I began to cry, curling up into a tighter ball even as she rubbed my arm. Mary did this until the paramedics came in. I let out a scream of fear as one of the men began to approach me. I didn't want them touching me. I didn't want any man touching me. Mary did her best to soothe me, but I was becoming hysterical as they tried to approach me.

"I'll ride with her. She's stable for now. You're only making matters worse by trying to interact with her. Stop it." Mary got to her feet, going to stand between me and the paramedic. "I will ride in the back of the ambulance with her and treat her."

"But mum, that's against protocol."

"Do you have a woman on that ambulance?"

"Well, no."

"This woman has been raped and brutalized for the past seven days by men. Do you truly think that she wishes to be touched by a man? I will ride in the back of that ambulance or I will drive her to the hospital myself. Which will it be?" Mary's voice was sharp and commanding even as she stood her ground.

"Can you even get her onto the stretcher?"

"I…I can walk myself," I croaked out, forcing myself to sit up, watching as the room spun around me. "Not one of you will touch me except Mary."

I made myself get to my feet, pulling the coat around me. I was beginning to shake and tremble, a sweat breaking out on my brow. I knew I was going into shock, but I ignored it, pushing it down. I would make it to the stretcher of my own power. I slowly shuffled towards it, stumbling only twice. Mary was there to catch me each time. I could feel every eye in the room on me and again I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But instead I sat myself on the edge of the stretcher, pulling the coat closer around me.

They lifted me in, careful not to touch me. Before they closed the doors I found Sherlock standing amongst the throngs of police and government agents. Those eyes were locked on me and he quickly signed something to me. I faded into unconsciousness before I could process it.

"Has she woken since they brought her here?" Mary's voice was the first I heard and it was filled with concern. "I mean, you've been staying with her every day Sherlock. Has she even made a move to wake up?"

"No, not at all. The doctor's aren't surprised though. A bruised kidney, re-broken ribs, multiple burns, the cuts from them whipping her, and all of the damage they did to her when they-" Sherlock cleared his throat. "They'll be surprised if she wakes any time soon."

"Well, from her chart it says that she lost nearly ten pounds in a week and was suffering from dehydration and malnutrition when they brought her in here. You know that she's going to need a lot of time to heal, right Sherlock?" John asked and I felt a hand on my wrist. My pulse began to race. "Jesus, her heart is pounding."

"Get off of me," I whispered.

"Delilah?"

"I said get off!" I croaked, feebly jerking my hand away. "Don't touch me!"

"Easy dear. Easy." I opened my eyes to find Mary sitting next to me. "We're your friends, remember?"

"I still don't want them touching me. Especially not him." I nodded towards Sherlock weakly. "I mean nothing to him."

I watched as Sherlock's spine straightened at what I said. He began to say something but John took him by the arm. "Save it for later Sherlock. We'll let Mary tell her everything that happened while she was unconscious." John turned to look at me. "We'll be back later once you two are done talking and then we'll all have a nice chat, alright?"

I only stared at him and watched as he sighed, leading Sherlock out of the room. "Text us when you two are done Mary. We'll be down in the cafeteria."

Mary handed me a glass of water once they'd left and I accepted it with shaking hands. I took a small sip before handing it back, laying back down on the pillows. "Let's get this over with."

The woman began to explain to me what had happened while I had been captured. Sherlock had spent the first two days I'd left searching all of London for me, following any and all leads that he could. He'd barely slept in that time. That night he'd gotten a message from a strange number on his phone with a link to a website. When he'd clicked on it, he'd come across the website that they'd set up with the live feed. Mary explained to me that he watched it until the point where I was raped. He'd had to turn it off.

He'd continued to watch it while they were torturing me, doing his best to try and find me and track the signal. Mary said that he had practically lived down at Scotland Yard using their computers to try and find me. She told me that when I'd begun to sign to him, it had been a great help. He'd put the website link onto his computer and had begun recording it, replaying it over and over again, only turning the feed off when I was being used by my captors. When I'd finally signed the letters S-I-S-T-E-R O-W-N B-E-N-N-E-T-T, that had given Sherlock his big break that he'd needed. He'd organized for the police department and government agencies to descend on the warehouse he'd managed to discover was owned by my sister, bought under our mother's maiden name. Mary finished by explaining that Sherlock had gotten John to take the shot on Desmond, knowing that John was more accurate with a gun and less emotionally invested than he was.

I listened in silence, staring out the window. When Mary finished, she took my hand. I only flinched at her touch. "I know this is so much to take in and I know it's overwhelming, but you're safe now. All those men are either dead or in custody, the biological weapons have all been confiscated, and their plans have been foiled. You've no reason to be afraid."

"What of my sister?" I asked, not looking at her.

Mary was quiet and I turned to her. "What of my sister? You all did capture her, didn't you?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "Somehow she got wind that we were on our way and she escaped. But we captured Mr. Aling and all of the others. He spilled his guts once the government men got ahold of him. I promise you, you are safe. We'll take care of you while you heal."

I frowned, turning to look out the window again. "When can I go home?"

Three days later, after a thorough psychiatric evaluation, I was given the all-clear to go home. In those three days, Sherlock had stayed in my room or right outside of it. More than once I had found him dozing off in the chair next to my bed. I still struggled to get away from him when he tried to touch me and after the third time of my panicking, he had stopped. We'd barely spoken to each other and I found that I didn't want to. He had nothing to say to me now that I knew where I stood with him.

I was going to start work at the clinic the following week. Both Mary and John had protested, but I'd been adamant, telling them that spending time alone at the flat wouldn't be good for me. I wanted to work and to get out in the world again. They had both begrudgingly agreed under the promise that I would only work two days a week and that I would go and see a therapist once a week. I had acquiesced to their request, stating that I would also go and find a taekwondo school that I could begin training in once more. I explained to them that I wanted to work on my skills again.

What I didn't tell them was that I couldn't remember what had happened to get me put into that warehouse in the first place.

Not once in those conversations did Sherlock say anything. Instead he listened and watched. I refused to acknowledge him. Now, we were heading towards the cab. I began to panic at the idea of an enclosed space with John and Sherlock. Mary squeezed my hand.

"It'll be okay. You can have the window seat behind the driver and I'll sit beside you. It's only a short ride from the hospital to 221b."

I gulped, nodding slowly. "Alright."

"Oh, my brother Mycroft said that he wanted to stop by tomorrow and talk if that's alright with you?" Sherlock finally spoke and I looked at him as we stood by the cab.

"Can we not do this right now?" I asked. "Let me at least get through this cab ride before you tell me that your brother wants to speak with me."

Sherlock shrugged. "Whatever you wish. It doesn't seem to matter to you what I say anyway."

The car ride was silent and my leg bounced up and down. I reached up to twirl a strand of my hair before I remembered that I didn't have a strand to twirl anymore, that Olivia had cut it. I touched the short ends, wanting to look in a mirror but knowing that if I did I would panic. I'd tried in the hospital and had gone into hysterics at my reflection.

Mary helped me out of the cab as we pulled up to the curb and as we got inside, I saw Mrs. Hudson waiting at the foot of the stairs. She covered her mouth when she saw me. "Oh dear me. Delilah, what did they do to you sweet girl?"

I felt my lower lip begin to quiver and I looked away. "I would rather not talk about it Mrs. Hudson. I'm sorry. Maybe later."

"Of course dear. I'll come up and visit you tomorrow, let you get settled in." I could see the sorrow in her eyes. "Have one of the boys call me if you need anything, alright?"

"I will Mrs. Hudson. Thank you."

I began to make my way up the stairs, standing out of the way as John unlocked the door. I walked in, seeing everything as it had been before I'd left. My pillows and blanket were even on the couch, my pack sitting next to it. I sat down, looking around the room. The tears touched my eyes and I began to cry again. I was so sick of the tears, but they never seemed to stop and always came at the worst of times. Mary sat next to me, letting me cry it out. Sherlock and John left me alone even as I wept.

I sat on the couch, as I'd been doing on most of my days off, making no motion to move or do anything. I was lost in thought, unable to wrap my mind around everything. It had been two weeks since I'd been rescued and Mary and John's wedding loomed on the horizon. I had barely been able to sleep, instead spending most of my nights staring up at the ceiling, replaying every horrid thing that had happened to me in that warehouse.

I'd spoken to Mycroft several times in those two weeks, always asking questions, never seeming to care if those questions were personal or painful for me. I could see where Sherlock had gotten his deduction skills and coldness from. Mycroft was a machine and a very efficient one at that. He'd wanted to put me in hiding with my sister still out and about, but I'd convinced him not to.

I'd also spoken to my mother. They had returned from Marseille as soon as they'd found out what had happened to me. John had been the one to call and inform her and she'd rushed to the flat as soon as they'd found out. I'd told her bits and pieces, but not everything. She'd listened and soothed me as best she could when I had begun to cry.

Now though, not even the tears would come. My thoughts turned to the gun that I kept under my pillow and how easy it would be to pull that trigger. How simple it would be. Would it break John and Mary's hearts? Yes, but only for a little bit. I would soon become a distant memory. And Sherlock, well he wouldn't care, except for the fact that he would have to get a new couch because of the bloodstain in it.

I decided in that moment that that's what I would do. I couldn't live like this anymore; the night terrors, the cold sweats, the fear of having anyone other than a woman touch me. I felt unclean, soiled, broken. I hated feeling that way. I wanted to kill this shell and perhaps start anew. Or see my father. Either of those was better than what I was going through.

I grabbed the gun from under the pillow. I pressed the barrel of the gun to my temple, placing my finger on the trigger.

"You know, a woman once told a young boy in the back of a van that you should never point a loaded gun at someone you don't intend to shoot."

"Look away Sherlock. I am going to kill myself. I cannot do this anymore."

"If you cannot, then why haven't you pulled the trigger?"

I felt my grip tighten. "I will Sherlock. If you want to watch then be my guest. But don't say I didn't try to stop you."

"Delilah, listen to me. I cannot fathom what you went through. I won't even try. But I am sorry that it happened. I am sorry that I didn't get to you any sooner than I did." I heard his voice break and my hand trembled. "I know that I failed you. And I know that you hate me for it. But I am truly sorry. You know that I don't apologize to anyone, but if you're going to kill yourself, I wanted you to hear that I was sorry before you died."

My hand shook and trembled even as I continued to hold the gun to my temple. I finally let my hand drop to the couch, letting out a cry of anguish. Sherlock crossed to me, taking the gun from my hand before sitting next to me. I felt the panic rise up in my chest, but the need for human contact in that moment was greater. I threw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest, sobbing.

I cried and cried until I had no more tears left in me. I cried for the girl that I had lost, the passion that had disappeared from me. I cried about the rape, about my lack of trust. But most of all I cried because I was sad and scared and alone, wounded and broken. Sherlock held me tight, rocking me gently back and forth. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head even as my sobs turned to sniveling.

I looked up at him, rubbing at my eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cry like that. Would you…would you mind giving me a bit of space?"

"Certainly. Do you promise not to try and kill yourself if I do?"

"I promise."

He nodded, getting up from the couch. "I will say, it's quite difficult to kill yourself when there are no bullets in the chamber."

Sherlock walked down the hall and I reached for the gun, pulling back the slide to look in the chamber. Sure enough, there was no bullet in there. I popped the magazine out. No bullets in there. I looked to Sherlock's doorway. How had he known what I had intended to do?

I jerked upright in the bed, drenched in a cold sweat. I swung my legs over the edge, staring into the darkness, rubbing at my temples. I felt my skin crawling with the feel of their fingers on me once more. I tried to push it away, forcing my mind to brighter and happier things.

It was a month away from Mary and John's wedding. The flat was covered in all sorts of notes and scribbles. Sherlock had had people in and out constantly, interviewing people for the wedding party and reception. I was set to attend, my dress already picked out and hanging in my closet. There hadn't been a case in a long time or any sign of my sister, so I had been able to settle back in easily at 221b.

I was volunteering my time at the school and working at the clinic. I was speaking with my mother on a weekly basis and I'd even gone to visit them at their home last week. I was slowly coming out of my shell. Sherlock was letting me stay in John's old room now that John had moved in with Mary. He'd even bought me a mattress and box spring, even though I had protested. My wounds were nearly healed, leaving only scars that would soon fade as well.

So why was I still feeling terrified constantly? My therapist had tried to tell me that it was normal, especially with the unanswered question of what had happened in the park. She'd told me that it would probably take months for me to be able to interact with strangers before I felt somewhat at ease without flinching and that it would take months more to be able to sleep without nightmares constantly.

I grabbed the blanket, pulling it around my shoulders. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:35. Shit. I'd only been asleep for two hours. The sound of violin music floated down the hall towards me. I got out of bed, padding down the hall to where Sherlock's room was, door open a crack. I peeked in, watching as he stood at his window, intense concentration on his face even as he played, fingers flying across the strings.

"Don't stand in the doorway snooping. Come in." I stepped away, startled by his voice. I wondered if I should return to my room, pretend as if I'd never been there. "I know it's you Delilah. You still shuffle around like an old woman. I won't tell you to come in again."

I pushed the door open, stepping into the room, looking around. "You're becoming obsessed with this wedding."

"Says the woman who spends most of her free time down at a dojo."

"It's not a dojo. It's a school. And I like it there. It's not like we're ever doing anything here."

"You're never here long enough. And when you are, you lock yourself away in your room."

"Does it bother you? I mean, you prefer to be alone don't you? A high functioning sociopath wouldn't want to be around people, especially not around emotional people like me."

"What are you rambling on about?"

"Let me explain it so that even someone as cold as you can understand. Why would I want to be around someone who obviously doesn't want me around and never cared for me?" I felt myself begin to tremble with rage and the tears formed in my eyes. "Or did the camera not record the part where you told Desmond that I meant nothing to you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because of that one comment?"

"Sherlock, you made it painfully clear that you didn't want me. So what was I? Some sick and twisted experiment? Was sleeping with me a way to draw my sister out of hiding? Which one was it?" The tears spilled over, rolling down my face. "To think, I trusted you. I cared about you. I left because I didn't want anything to happen to you. I prayed for you to come and rescue me. I begged for God to let you figure out where I was. And then you say something like that? Why did you rescue me Sherlock? Why didn't you leave me there to die since you cared so little about me?"

"I couldn't. Delilah, believe it or not, you are important to me. I don't know if Mary told you, but I looked for you day and night since the time I woke that morning and found you gone. I had every police officer combing the streets. Mary, John, and I were putting up posters. Mrs. Hudson contacted every single shop and homeless shelter within a five kilometer radius looking for you. We found your pack at the playground, along with some blood. There were signs of a struggle."

'Signs of a struggle. Yes. That's right. I went to meet her and she was there. We spoke and then three men attacked. I took out two of them and then someone whacked me from behind. But what did we speak of?'

"If you think after all of the trouble I went through to find you I would mean it when I said that you meant nothing, then you're a bigger fool than I thought you were." Sherlock's voice was cold and I knew that he was trying to wound me, the same way that I had wounded him.

"Sherlock, I…" What could I say? That I was hurt? That I needed more time to heal? I'd need more time for the nightmares to stop, but the healing needed to begin. "I'm sorry."

There was silence and Sherlock turned back to the window. "I'm sorry too."

I stood there for a few minutes, watching him, mind racing. "Sherlock…d-do you mind if I sleep with you tonight?"

He turned to me, eyebrows raised. "Won't you panic?"

"I'll do my best not to. I…I don't want to be alone tonight. I don't think either of us does. Please."

Sherlock crossed to the bed, pulling the covers back. "Go ahead and lay down. I'll be in bed in a bit. I have to finish composing a couple of songs for the wedding."

I nodded, slowly crawling into bed. Sherlock picked up his violin and bow once more, beginning to play the soothing melody that had enchanted me a month ago. My eyes began to droop, but before I drifted off, I mumbled something under my breath.

"What was that?"

"I said thank you, Sherlock. For everything."

With that I went to sleep and for the first time since I had been rescued, I had no nightmares.