When Maelin awoke, she heard Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen. She opened her eyes, shifting her head around to face the door. It was open, Sherlock and the chair gone. She went to lift herself out of bed and groaned. Her back ached and her cuts burned with pain. She eased out of the bed, trying not to make more pained sounds. Padding into the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson took one look at her and shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry about the floor," Maelin murmured.
"Oh, dear, don't you mind about that," Mrs. Hudson replied. "You just take care of yourself. And don't let these boys pester you with their questions. Sherlock wouldn't shut up about it this morning. Asking me what time you left, how long it would take me to clean the floors, all these silly questions. I had to send him out to get you some clothes just to get him to calm down," she finished with a smile.
"He's gone?"
Mrs. Hudson nodded. "He should be back anytime, been almost an hour. John just left, too. Went to get you something stronger than paracetamol for your uhm, well, your…"
"They didn't tell you, did they?"
"Only that you'd been hurt, and I imagine from the way you're walking it's your back or shoulder."
"Sherlock's not the only one with deducting skills," Maelin smiled.
Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Goodness, I hope I'm not like that," she said as her laughter faded.
"No," Maelin confirmed. "Much nicer, and much less eccentric," she added with a wink.
"Thank you for saying so, dear. Now, how about you have a nice cuppa after you take care of your morning business. Everything's laid out along with a spot of breakfast. Sherlock should be back anytime."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
They smiled at each other and Mrs. Hudson went downstairs. Maelin went into the bathroom and handled her morning business with less alacrity than usual. She then looked in the mirror, frowning at the hollow circles under her eyes. She opened the medicine cabinet and resisted the pain pills sitting sealed and unopened on the shelf. She pulled out a bottle of mouthwash, pouring a fair amount in her mouth and swishing it around as she replaced the cap and bottle, closing the cabinet. Spitting into the sink, she winced as she bent over, but recovered and turned on the faucet, swishing some water in her mouth to rinse. After splashing water on her face, she reached for the hand towel and dabbed her face with. She inhaled softly, smelling Sherlock on the towel and smiled.
After she replaced the towel, a moment of curiosity seized her as her back once again shot fresh pain through her nerves. She moved in front of the mirror, after taking Sherlock's shaving glass from the small table beside the shower. Maelin undid the ties on the dressing gown and let it slip over her shoulders to her waist. Grasping the gown in one hand and the mirror in the other, she turned around, angling the shaving glass so she could see her back reflected from the cabinet mirror. Her eyes grew wide and the glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the floor.
"Maelin," Sherlock's voice rang in her ears just outside the door. "Maelin, are you alright?"
The doorknob turned and he entered, taking all of a second to assess what had occurred. Once again, he swept her into his arms, avoiding the glass shards on the floor, and carried her back to his room. He immediately bent down to examine her feet, looking for signs of cuts.
When Maelin found her voice again, she couldn't bring herself to stop.
"He said it was a message. I thought just cutting me was the message. I didn't realize..."
"It's alright," Sherlock said calmly, though his voice shook. Maelin didn't even hear him as she continued.
"And he laughed when he did it. Just giving me pain was doing it, I thought. He's going to end me."
At this, Sherlock looked up at her. Satisfied her feet were unharmed, he sat beside her, but she still didn't register his movements or his voice continuing to try and reassure her.
"He's really going to do it. Even if it's just to spite you. No matter what I do he's going to do it. He's going to kill me."
Sherlock clasped her face in his hands. "Maelin, listen to me."
"I don't want to die," she said, tears suddenly flowing down her cheeks. "I'm not ready, not really. I can pretend I am, but I'm not. I don't want to die, not by his hand. He's going to kill me and I can't stop it. I don't want to-"
"You won't."
"But he's setting up new rules and there's no way I can give him what he wants. He's going to kill me no matter what and I don't want to die, Sherlock. But more than that I don't want to hurt you, to disappoint you again, to put you through-"
Her words were silenced by his lips, firm and warm pressed against hers. He still clasped her face in his hands, and he moved one to hold the back of her neck. Maelin tried to pull back slightly and he held her firm, once again pressing his lips to hers.
Without thought, Maelin began to return his kiss. One hand found its way to his shirt, clinging to it with her fingers. The other moved behind his head, mimicking his grip on her neck.
After a moment, Sherlock relaxed his grip and their lips soon parted.
"Was that just to distract me?" Maelin asked, fairly certain of the answer but needing to hear it.
"No," Sherlock replied, assured.
Another pause while Maelin loosed her grip on his shirt, smoothing her hand over the wrinkles as she tried not to look at him.
"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice shaking ever so slightly.
She finally caught his gaze and softened. "Yes," she murmured, nodding. Then more firmly, "Yes, I do."
"Then trust me, Lia," he said again, his grip on her neck easing as he ran a tender hand over her hair. "Trust me and I swear I will not let you die."
His words echoed through to a part of her she thought had died the day she walked away from him all those years ago. It hadn't died, she reflected as he continued to gaze at her. It lay dormant, buried deep within herself. If this whole fiasco cost her her life, she at least would ensure Sherlock knew this - just not now.
She pressed her lips to his, his kiss now more tentative as though his certainty was fading. Maelin shifted herself forward, wrapping her arms around his back and shoulders and shifting herself onto his lap. Pressing her chest against his, she felt his hearbeat pounding. She kissed her way down his neck, feeling his pulse, then up to his ear.
"I trust you, Sherlock," she whispered. "And I will not betray the trust you place in me, ever."
He tilted his head back away from her, scanning her face with his penetrating gaze. Maelin eased a hand up from his shoulder to run through his mass of curls.
"I promise," she said softly, and Sherlock kissed her again. This time the surety of his first kiss mingled with a passion Maelin had faint memories of, returning now with its full force.
They clung to one another for a few moments, Sherlock taking care to avoid touching her wounded back but not shying away from firm caresses as they relearned bits of each other anew.
When they finally broke, Maelin eased herself out of Sherlock's lap and he took one of her hands in his and kissed it.
He looked at her and smiled, and she returned it.
"Are we of one accord now?"
She nodded.
"Then will you tell me what happened?"
Pain sprang afresh across Maelin's back, and she had to will away the unwanted tears which instantly threatened before beginning.