Hannah looked at the ground. Sherlock's feet moved across the room, placing items in his bag that he needs for his mission. She was picking at her nails, bringing her thumb up to her mouth to bite at it. Sherlock wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from her mouth. His other hand tilting her chin up to look at him. Her eyes were watery. He pressed his lips to hers in reassurance. Hannah felt three words that had gone unspoken climb up her throat only for her to push them back down.
"I will call you tonight." He ran his fingers through her hair and down her spine. She shivered and pressed her lips to his in rapid succession. Pulling him by his hair to become closer to her. She lifted herself on her tip toes and kissed his lips, cheeks and jaw, his arms wrapping around her waist and bringing them as close as they possibly could be. She let her arms wrap around his neck. "A few days, just a few days." He whispered. She nodded and they slowly released each other. She watched Sherlock zip up his bag and she followed him out from their room and down the stairs.
She stood by the door and waited for him to grab a few things from his laboratory. The house always felt too big without him. They usually stuck to one side of the house, where their bedroom was, the study and the main stairwell to the lower level of the house. While it didn't seem full with just the two of them, certainly it didn't feel as daunting as when she was here alone.
She didn't know where her relationship with Sherlock is going. She knows she loves him, and she knows she wants to be with him, but there is a fear that when he returns back to Baker Street, he wont be the same affectionate Sherlock she knows now. He certainly wasn't before. She had dreams of marriage and kids at some point, but that feels so distant from her now. Sherlock didn't seem the kind to marry, nor did he seem to like children very much.
They haven't put a word on this relationship. He was exclusive to her just as she was exclusive to him, but was she his girlfriend? It has been a year and they haven't gotten past a little heavy petting. Hannah wondered if this was really enough for him, for both of them, or if she was just passing the time. Sherlock's heavy footsteps climbed up the stairs and entered the foyer.
Around the time Sherlock started leaving for these exhibitions he bought a car, one simple enough to go unrecognized as it drove through cities, small towns or wherever he goes but efficient in the way he needs to to function. She followed him out to the car and watched him put his bag inside. He shut the door and turned to her.
This was always the hardest moment. For Hannah at least. She could almost feel her throat swell and her eyes start to tear up. As though she wasn't already emotional enough. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked into his open arms. His chin rest on her head. "Friday. I will be back on Friday." She nodded against his chest and he gave her one last tight squeeze before climbing into the car. He gave her one last affectionate look and pulled away. Hannah waited for the car to disappear before she re-entered her house and locked the front door.
...
Since Moriarty's death, Sebastian Moran was left to pick up the pieces of a now crumbling empire. His life was considerably more lonely now and he needed Hannah. He left her to calm down after the crescendo of events, Moriarty & Sherlock's death. He gave her a year to mourn and let herself get comfortable enough again to be more receptive to him. He had waited years to find her and one more would hurt. He was good at waiting. Patience is something he had plenty of, unlike Jim Moriarty.
Sebastian could wait. He was patient enough to befriend Moriarty, get on good terms with him, become his right hand man, and wait for his demise. Now it was his turn. It was his turn to get the girl, get the power, the money, the noteriety. The girl. It took copious amounts of self-control to keep himself from murdering Moriarty before he could commit suicide. The pain Hannah had been through.
Waiting outside of 221B for Moriarty to come out, adjusting himself in his trousers, before running in and attending to the crying and scared Hannah. Seeing Hannah like that, her empty eyes, his anger almost got the best of him. Almost.
A knock came to the door. "Come in." Finally, the man he wanted to see. He sent this man to check on the house once more, after another one of Sebastian's 'employees' failed the task he sent this man out and he was hoping not to be disappointed. The man stood opposite the desk with a manilla folder. "Well?" The man nodded.
"She's there." He handed the folder out to Sebastian, and the pictures he pulled out made his heart leap in his chest. Hannah out front on the steps of her home. In the kitchen. Getting ready for bed.
"Leave." Sebastian didn't look up from the pictures. He heard the door click and found a picture he was hoping for. He felt a swell of anger that one of his men got to see this, but the picture was a voyeurs dream. Hannah was stretching, breasts pressing tightly against the lace fabric of her bra, nipples visible through the fabric. Her panties were stretched across her hips, the panties tied by strings at the hips. He felt his cock swell in his trousers and he palmed himself through his pants. He was a patient man, but he figured why wait any longer? He has earned his prize. It was time to go and get it.
...
It was depressing. When Sherlock left it always was. The single serving dinners and laying alone in bed watching pointless television shows only further deepened this feeling. She was currently sitting in bed and watching a home improvement show, her mobile next to her. Sherlock should be calling soon. He called around this time the previous night, right after he came in from finding his way around the building he believed to be Moriarty's base.
Right on time her phone rang, and she smiled as she picked it up, bringing it to her ear and sinking into the blankets. "Hello?" She heard a breathy voice reply to her.
"Hi." She heard a creak of the bed in his hotel room as he settled against it. She grinned.
"Still in one piece?" She could hear him toe off his shoes and begin to unbutton his shirt.
"More or less. Weather is terrible." Sherlock wasn't overly fond of speaking on the phone. It meant a lot to her that he would do this. And he knew it.
"What do you want to eat when you get back?" Silence from the other line. She waited a moment, in case he was just thinking, but when it took a bit too long for him to reply, "Sherlock?"
"I think I have to stay a little longer." Hannah frowned.
"Why?" She heard him shift nervously on the other line.
"I think I can do more with a few more days, better planning." Hannah sighed. She knew this would only start an argument and she didn't feel up for an argument that she knew she was going to lose.
"Okay." Her voice was soft, slightly more sad.
"Okay? You don't want to..."
"No." She was upset. He knew she was upset, but he didn't know what to do about it. "I'm going to go... I'm tired." She was very upset.
"Fine." Hannah tapped the end button and turned into her pillow. He was supposed to come home tomorrow. She couldn't help but feel afraid, not just for his sake, but her own. She was terribly afraid to be in this house by herself and each time she would build herself up to not be so afraid, but tonight seemed uncommonly eerie. She felt sort of uncomfortable. She tossed her phone on the bed and stepped into the bathroom to relieve her aching bladder.
She looked at herself in the mirror when she was washing her hands. Her messy brown hair was tied up, the large t-shirt she was wearing was Sherlock's. When he moved in here she went into the city and bought him plain clothes to wear around the house, but he still made her sneak some of his suits out of 221B while John was making tea. The shirt smelled like him and the comfortable worn fabric was slightly soothing to her. Underneath she wore a pair of old cotton pajama shorts. She felt unattractive. She could almost imagine Sherlock's arms wrapping around her waist from behind. He would press a kiss to her cheek and look at her in the mirror. With him she felt beautiful, no matter what she wore.
She flipped the light off in the bathroom, gasping at the unexpectedly dark bedroom she walked into. The television was off, but she knew for a fact she didn't turn it off. She felt fear. A fear she couldn't quite handle. She slid her hand onto the bed as quietly as possible and grabbed her phone, she quickly redialed Sherlock and waited for him to pick up. She heard someone's footsteps in the room. Sherlock picked up.
"Hannah?" An arm wrapped around her waist.
"No!" She screamed. She kicked her feet and squirmed trying to loosen her captor's grip. "No!" She could hear Sherlock yelling her name over the phone. She felt something sharp enter her neck and instantly found her muscles relaxing. Her assailant gently placed her on the bed. She couldn't move. He picked her phone off the ground and ended the call.
Sherlock stared at his phone. The complete terror he heard in Hannah's voice causing him to panic. He had to get home. Now.