Chapter 6: The Spider and the Fly

**Please note in this chapter there are mentions of drug use and sexual assault**

I began to awake in a strange room that didn't look familiar to me.

"Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly…" a flamboyant voice said.

I shook my head. The room was still spinning and I couldn't muster the strength to wake up. Wake up from whatever those men had drugged me with. It felt like either laudanum or some form of opium…or both. Whatever it was, I was having trouble even finding where the man's voice was coming from. I rolled over and managed to get up but not yet stand up. Around me were throw pillows and satin blankets. The room was dark and all I could make out was some people passed out around me and other times I could see scantily clad women walking around the room. Where in the hell was I? The odor of opium hit me and I suddenly realized that I was in an opium den. But this one looked like one for upper aristocrats.

"Where…where am I?" I called out.

"Why…you are exactly where you need to be Holmes…" the same voice said again.

I squinted my eyes and rubbed them hoping to clear my vision. I finally could make out bits and pieces of their figure through the darkness. This man had a small mustache, dark hair, and steely green eyes. He wore a white button up shirt with a pullover beige vest. I noticed his top hat and overcoat were hanging up in a corner of the room. This must be the man I had been looking for. He was A.J. Raffles.

"You're…Arthur James…" I said getting the strength to stand up. "What did you drug me with?" I asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know? I've heard tales of you Mr. Holmes. A brilliant mind, but a street-bound drug dependent young man."

I shook my head. I had to shake this off. Whatever had happened, I had to shake it off. He was going to hurt Lillie and I just couldn't let that happen. The drug was starting to seem like it was starting to wear off some but my legs still felt like pudding. Finally, I was now standing straight up across from him. However, he walked over to me until he was close to my face. I tried to reach for him but my arms still weren't working right. He grabbed my face and pushed me to the ground. What happened next is the worst thing you can imagine Watson. It's something I wouldn't wish on anyone. He then laid on top of me and straddled me, petting my face and stroking my hair. I couldn't move or do anything. I felt completely helpless. Much like Lillie probably felt during their…encounters. After a few moments of what can only be described as being violated, the disgusting but distinguished criminal thief spoke.

"I really like you Holmes. You could take the place of my live-in companion Bunny if you would like…you are so much more interesting…" he said, still breathing in my face. "You are going to give up this case Holmes. Lillie will be mine..and there's nothing you can do about it. Don't make me have to bring you to my little abode again."

I don't remember anything after that except being back outside my flat. I woke to Mycroft trying to get me to wake up.

"Sherly, wake up! Where have you been? What happened?"

I jolted upright. The memories of my encounter with Raffles came to my head and I could no longer shake them from my mind. As if I had just woken up from a nightmare, I let out a gasp. Mycroft was confused. He thought I had taken something of my own accord.

"A.J. Raffles…" I spoke - now more than ever disgusted by that name. "A.J. Raffles…"

Mycroft picked me up and carried me into the flat. He laid me down on the couch and put a cool rag on my head.

"Where have you heard that name before?"

"He's…he's blackmailing a friend of mine…he wants her jewels…I tried…I tried…." my words were getting all jumbled up.

I felt Mycroft take my wrist and was staring at his watch. He must've been counting my pulse. I then felt him let go. I understood he was only looking out for me, but as of right now I didn't want anyone touching me.

"A.J. Raffles is one of the most cunning thiefs in all of London. We have been trying to catch him for quite some time, but he is a master of disguise. We all know where to find him - The Melbourne House on Piccadilly street. But in most cases we can't prove that he is indeed the one doing these crimes and thievery."

I put my hand to my forehead. The back of my palm was cold as it touched the wet rag Mycroft had laid on my head - I had forgotten he had done that. I then felt Mycroft roll up the sleeve of my other arm. Probably to check and see if I had injected myself with anything. There were two bright purple marks he noticed. I knew that these fresh marks were from Raffles men when they drugged me. They drugged me when they brought me to him and again when they brought me back here. To Mycroft, however, he thought they were mine.

"Sherly, we've talked about this. This isn't healthy…you're growing too dependent on these stimulants..as you like to call them." He said in disgust. "It's time you get rid of them before you kill yourself."

I just rolled my eyes. I did not want to repeat what happened to me to him. He wouldn't understand anyway. He never did.

"I came to call on you as I have news on mother's condition, but judging by the state you are in…it can wait."

After that Mycroft stayed with me the rest of the night. I mainly slept but every now and then I would succumb to horrible nightmares of Raffles. Never in my beginning years of detective work had I ever been man-handled by anyone. Sure, I had been threatened and even shot at by some criminals and I had helped bring in, but this man was on another level. During the middle of the night..I'm not even sure what time it was, I noticed Mycroft reading while I lay on the couch. I lifted myself up still woozy - felt for sure I was going to vomit.

"Mycroft.." I managed to say.

My brother looked over at me. Throughout this whole ordeal it had been the first time I had seen genuine concern on his face. You've met him before many times Watson - as you know he doesn't have the best bedside manner.

"Sherly, go back to sleep…" he replied coldly looking back into his book.

"No…I need to know. My profiling of A.J. Raffles have begun. But I need to ask a few questions about him. Describe him to me. Not physical appearance…but personality." In my drugged state, deducing anything about him was out of the question at the time. So I needed another source.

Mycroft huffed and closed his book like a snob. Almost as if he didn't want me even asking such questions about Raffles.

"If you must know Sherly, those of us in the British government refer to him as the gentleman thief. As I said he resides at Melbourne House and comes from a particularly wealthy family. Interestingly enough, he only steals from high valued aristocratic families. Almost like a game, most of his crimes are just for sport. Not for profit or money…"

I listened intently as Mycroft went on.

"He is a crack shot cricket player and has been known to flaunt his wealth in ostentatious circles and throw lavish parties."

"And who is Bunny?"

I watched as Mycroft's face went pale. I had expected this sort of reaction as if my suspicions were correct. Raffles was a homosexual and this Bunny person must have been his partner. Still, I was curious what Mycroft was going to say.

"Bunny is his…flatmate. I believe they went to the same school when they were younger and he is also a writer much like Dr Watson."

I rolled my eyes. Of course, my brother didn't think I could handle such matters. He still thought of me as the younger naive brother with no such knowledge of such things. However, after what happened between me and A.J. I can confirm my suspicions of him were correct. I watched as my brother looked as if he was done discussing the subject. He stood up from his chair and grabbed his hat from the door.

"Satisfied? Now, if you are feeling better I have much to attend to at Buckingham Palace. And Sherly, please take care of yourself…"

I rolled over on the couch. My eyelids were heavy, but my brain was going a hundred miles a minute. I had to find him. This man…this "gentleman thief." Either I was going to get him or he was going to be the death of me.