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You stood over your latest victim, watching as he tried to crawl away from you. You were at your leisure as you were aware that there was no way he would be getting away.
“You’re doing the same thing she did Mr. Miles. She told me how she tried to crawl away from you after you beat her senseless.”
You walked forward, not even bothered by the blood that smeared the floor as the man tried to get away. You stopped once you stepped on his hand, watching in satisfaction as he whimpered in pain as you attempted to break a few digits.
“Let me go. Please. Please. Let me go.” You let out a little laugh as you played with the sharp edge of the knife that you were holding.
“Oh my! Word for word. Just like she said when you raped her.” You allowed him to pull his hand back as he turned over to lie on his back, unable to get any further.
Probably due to the blood loss from where he had been castrated by you not more then ten minutes ago.
“Please, I have children.” He begged to which you scoffed. “The children you beat. The children who’s mother you raped and beat until she was put in the hospital.”
You leaned down, grabbing the man under his arms and hauling him up into a nearby chair. The piece of furniture was the only thing in the otherwise bare and darkened room. The man cried out because of the pain, but remained upright.
You stood in front of him, eyes gleaming with a deadly fire as you raised your knife.
“They’re better off without you Mr. Miles.” He let out a sob as he stared back into your cold eyes, his own full of fear.
“Who are you?” He breathed, unable to look away from your face as you stood to your full height. The knife in your hand gleamed wickedly.
“Your worst nightmare.”
When you walked out of the shed, his screams and pleas of mercy were still ringing in your ears.
Despite the fact that he had been dead for nearly half an hour.
You sighed as you slumped into your chair, hand massaging the back of your neck as you blinked at the lights above.
“Long day?” Your closest friend at work, Mary, asked as she looked up from where she had been reading over a chart for a patient. “Try long week.” You responded, allowing your body to stretch with your arms in the air to pop a muscle in your back.
“Its the flu season so mothers are coming in left right and center with their little ones.” You added as a way of explanation, shaking your head at the thought of the many first time mothers you had helped calm down. To you it was a sign of good parenting, seeing them get so worked up about their child who just had a minor cold.
You glanced at your watch. Only a few more minutes before your shift was over. Maybe you could take the time to catch up with Mary. “So! You didn’t tell me what happened with that handsome army doctor you’ve been going out with. Has he proposed yet?” You asked with a teasing smile as you cradled your chin in your hands, elbows resting on your knees.
She gave a little laugh. “Oh we’re getting close to the proposal. His friend coming back put a little detour on his plans, but once their reacquainted he’ll pop the question.” You sighed in envy.
“Thats what I admire so much about you Mary. You’re just so confident that he is.” The woman grinned and threw you a wink. “Well he can’t get any better then this, so of course he will be settling for the best.”
Laughing lightly under your breath, you began to gather your things, making sure you didn’t leave your phone behind as you had often done in the past.
Just then the small television that Mary had on for background noise burst into Breaking News. The both of you turned your attention to the screen as the anchor announced how yet another body had been discovered, castrated and left after the male died.
“Looks like we have a serial killer on our hand.” Mary said in a soft voice, prompting you to purse your lips and nod in agreement. “Whoever this person is, they’re really covering their tracks.” You said as they showed the picture of the man you had killed a week ago.
Mary glanced at you, taking in the tense expression on your face and the way your eyes were glued to the screen. Reaching out she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry love, the killer is only targeting men. And according to very credible resources that I have.” She leaned forward as if she were sharing a secret.
“The men that were killed, they weren’t really good men themselves. So far, every single one of them has had a rape allegation against them, which all of them dodged because of crummy evidence, bad lawyers, blackmail and money.” You watched as she glanced at the screen once more. “My John and his friend Sherlock, you know the famous detective?” You gave a little nod of acknowledgement.
“Well they’re both on the case since the Scotland Yard was having trouble finding the killer.” You frowned. “But if they find the killer will they be sent to jail?” You asked to which Mary gave a small shrug. “Honestly, they’re doing what the legal system could not, taking monsters out of the streets. But of course, the law won’t see it that way.”
You glanced at Mary before looking at the screen once again, now filled with the pictures of all the men you had killed.
“Yeah.” You echoed. “They won’t.”
Which is why you did what you did.
Sherlock was staring intently at the floor where he had laid out pictures, news-clippings, police reports, hospital reports, anything that could help him connect the victims with one another.
This killer, whoever they were, was not like anyone he had ever encountered before.
For one they were smart, smart enough to not leave a single trace of evidence behind.
Second they killed their victim in a place where the latter would frequent. Most of these locations were out of the way, making it convenient for them to be killed.
The only thing so far, that was connecting the victims, was the fact that they had an allegation of rape filed against them in the past. Sherlock had to dig really deep to get some of the files since they had been wiped from the system. He had a suspicion that it had something to do with corruption in the justice legal system, but he wasn’t about to dive into that at the moment.
He could always send what he had deduced to Mycroft but perhaps later.
“Any luck?” John asked, walking into the flat with fresh Chinese take out. Sherlock didn’t bother with a reply, his mind racing as he tried to come up with something, anything that would help him solve the case.
“Nothing. Nothing that would link all these men together other then the rape allegations for which none of them served any time.” Sherlock was starting to feel just a little frustrated at the seemingly unsolvable puzzle. “Six victims in two months, all of them castrated yet killed off in different ways.” He began to list them off. “The first poisoned, the second strangled, the third a knife through the heart, the fourth a bullet to the chest, the fifth a bullet to the head and the latest was left to bleed out slowly.” The consulting detective glanced at the pictures of the dead men. “Can’t even trace the weapon back to the owner since they were all purchased in bills and were wiped clean of any prints.
“Obviously these were all killings fueled by revenge or justice, perhaps a mixture of sorts.” He mumbled under his breath as John began to polish off the dumplings. “Because they were all castrated?” The former army doctor asked at which Sherlock nodded. “Whoever our killer is they’re doing this out of revenge for perhaps what happened to them, or someone they love. And I am beginning to believe that this is the work of a woman.”
“What makes you say that?” John asked, eyes going over the pictures of the victims dead bodies. “There is a lot of emotion behind these killings. And only a woman is capable of feeling something so deeply.” Sherlock glanced up at the doctor who raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t let Mary hear you say that.” He stated seriously, at which Sherlock waved a hand in a dismissive manner.
“It is only for this situation that I am applying such a hypothesis Watson. I am well aware of men over-reacting more then women do.” His blue gaze turned back to the mind map in front of him.
“Like you.” The Doctor mumbled under his breath.
Moving to grab a box of stir-fry, John glanced at the hospital reports, that Sherlock had set aside, on the table. They were the ones the rape victims had given to the police when they were first brought in the hospital.
“Huh? Seems this girl went to the hospital Mary works at.” He stated in an off-handed manner. “St. Gemma.” Almost as if a string had pulled, Sherlock’s head snapped in the direction of his friend. “St. Gemma?” All of a sudden, the detective was frantically riffling through the files of each rape victim. And in each file he found the same logo stamped in the right hand corner of the page of the same hospital.
“This is it John! The hospital! That’s the link!” He waved the papers in the air as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. “Every single one of these women were taken to this hospital after the rape, meaning our killer is someone at the hospital.”
John frowned before shaking his head. “A serial killer working at a hospital? Don’t be daft Sherlock, every person working there with a medical degree has taken an oath to never take a life.” Sherlock shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We should have Lestrade screen everyone, from the head of the hospital down to the janitor.”
He threw the papers in the air as he rushed to pull on his coat and scarf, nearly vibrating with excitement. John quickly shoved his chopsticks in the take out box of his half-eaten stir-fry and quickly followed after the already retreating figure of the detective.
“And with Mary working there, we have ourselves a man on the inside.” Sherlock added as he bounded down the stairs.
“Woman.” John quickly corrected him at which Sherlock rolled his eyes before hailing a cab.
“Semantics.”
If it were physically possible, your eyes would be flashing red with pure and utter anger as you tried to calm the near hysterical girl that had been brought it.
She was so young, younger then you at least. And she had just been a victim of rape. By two teenagers no less, from what she had told the story. You did your best to calm the girl down, getting her water to drink and even administrating some sleep drug into her system so she could calm down somewhat, after the police had taken their statement.
Taking out your phone, you quickly typed in the girl’s name as well as he names of the two boys she had given. They were from the same school as she was, and God help them if they got away with the heinous crime they had committed.
You would be paying them a visit if they did.
Your mind was still reeling with the possibility of your next target, but for now you had to keep a calm and cool head. There would be a trial since there was more then enough evidence to implicate the two boys, but you had lost your faith in the justice system a long time ago.
It had failed your mother and then it had failed your sister.
And you were not about to let anyone else get away with ruining another person’s life.
Not if you had anything to say about it.
Sighing to yourself you leaned against a wall, head in your hand, trying your best to take a calming breath before you were to speak with Mary. The two of you had decided on a little dinner date, and you were looking forward to just having some normal time with your friend.
“Mary! Lets go! I’m starving and if I’m not fed soon I will eat the next thing that comes in front of me.” You said as you walked through the door of your shared office space. What you hadn’t been expecting was another person just standing at the entrance, causing you to bump straight into them and loose your footing.
You would’ve fallen, if it weren’t for the person, man, reaching out to catch you with an arm around your middle. Your own hands flew out to grasp his shoulders, in an effort to steady yourself.
Your lips were parted in a silent gasp, your eyes wide at being caught off-guard.
Y/C/E met blue and if it weren’t for Mary calling out to ask if you were alright, you were sure you would’ve lost yourself in the varying shades of blue that you were able to pick up with just one look.
“I’m fine.” You said, stepping away from the man, neither of you breaking eye-contact as you did. His gaze was rather intense, as if he were scrutinizing your every move, even the way you breathed. You raised an eyebrow in his direction.
“You know, when a person enters a room they are expected to move away from the door to allow other people to walk in.” You stated in a dry tone, before turning your attention to the other two occupants in the room.
Despite the fact that you wanted to keep looking at the gorgeous man you had bumped into.
Mary was grinning like an idiot, prompting you to roll your eyes, knowing exactly what ran through her scheming mind. The man next to her stood with an air of authority and the stance of a soldier. “You must be Dr. John Watson. Nice to see Mary didn’t just make you up.” You said, reaching out to gently bump your shoulder against your friend who gave you an offended look.
He gave you a warm smile, and you instantly liked him as you shook his hand. “And you’re Y/N Y/L/N, Mary has told me all about you.” You grinned about to reply when the other man cut in.
“Yes, yes we would all love to sit around drink tea and play house guest, but we do not have time Watson.” He sounded irritated, probably at being ignored by the woman he had bumped into.
Though he would rather gouge his own eyes out then admit he was effected in such a manner. You glowered at the consulting detective. “Nice to see you keep such polite company Mary.” You said, prompting your friend to give a small laugh as she looped her arm through yours.
“Would love to stay and chat boys, but Y/N gets cranky when shes hungry, so I shall see you later.” With that she began to lead you out of the room. “It was nice meeting you John!” You called over your shoulder to which he replied, “Likewise.”
As for the other man, you gave him a once over that was almost dismissive in nature. “Holmes.” Who else could it be other then the famous Sherlock Holmes.
He stood taller, returning your haughty gaze with his own. “Y/L/N.”
The exchange was one that would be imprinted in your mind for days to come, as it would be in his.
Though it didn’t stop Mary from teasing you about it all through dinner.
Your kill streak had died down. For some reason the legal system seemed to be doing what they were supposed to and putting every monster they encountered behind bars.
Perhaps your message had gotten through to them.
Either they take care of justice themselves or you would take it in your own hands.
The Castrator, the media had begun to call you once the details of your kills had been leaked. And it seemed your actions had given victims of rape the strength to come forward and name their attackers, which had led to a surge of people being either shipped off to jail, or being put under investigation.
Whatever had happened, you were feeling more like yourself then ever before. And you were beginning to live a somewhat normal life as well.
All thanks to Mary.
You hadn’t expected her to become something of an older sister to you in a span of the few months you knew her. And yet here you were, happily helping her plan her wedding with John and enjoying every moment of it.
The two of you would go shopping, go over the catering, the guest list and everything else in-between. Of course John was always there. He was the groom and his opinion mattered.
Somewhat.
And then there was Sherlock.
At first he had been extremely moody and snappish, a trait he adopted when a case he was working went cold. That case being that of The Catrator. According to him, the killer seemed to have cooled off for now, prompting them to take a step back from killing.
However, that meant he would now turn his undivided attention to helping Mary and John plan the perfect wedding.
Plans over which you and him would butt heads on more then one occasion.
You would both fight both sides of the argument, bouncing facts and opinions off each other as if you had rehearsed it beforehand. Mary and John would stare, amazed to the very core as the two of you would start an argument before settling it yourself by giving logical reasoning. Sometimes Sherlock would win, and sometimes you would win.
Whatever it was, it was fascinating to watch the two of you interact.
Or flirt, as Mary had once put it, prompting you to throw a carefully folded napkin at her head.
The day Mary asked you to be her Maid of Honor was truly one of the happiest of your life.
You had embraced the woman within an inch of your life, before entering 221 B to share the news with John and Sherlock. Only to find Sherlock standing there in an almost catatonic like state, holding a cup of tea in his hand and looking at John as if he were a creature from another world.
“Whats with him?” You asked as you removed your coat to reveal the turtle neck dress you had pulled on that morning, paired with knee high boots.
John smacked his lips, barely looking up from where he was reading the news. “I asked him to be my best man while also stating that he’s my best friend.” Mary, who had stooped to give her fiancée a kiss to the cheek gave a light gasp.
“John! I told you not to break him!” She said, shock and amusement shining in her eyes as she turned her attention to the still Sherlock. Wanting to have your own fun, you peered at him as you stood beside him. “Think we can finally get a day’s peace with him like that?” You asked, giggling to yourself as your eyes lightened with mischief.
Without further ado, you quickly raced off to his room, and after a few seconds of rummaging, walked out wearing one of his favorite dressing gowns. “You know I can see why he likes them so much. Gives him a more dramatic flare.” You threw out the sides of the gown as if it were a cape, prompting both John and Mary to burst out laughing.
“It is called comfort, Y/N. And put that back.” You scowled, pulling the gown off and throwing it in his face. He caught the fabric deftly before it had time to smack him in the face.
“So Sherlock? How does it feel to know you’re somebody’s best friend?” You asked, wanting to tease him further as you managed to sit atop the table despite the clutter.
“Ecstatic.” He stated in a robotic tone, before moving to set down his untouched tea and striding to the living room to begin planning.
Your gaze flitted to the eyeball that was swimming in the liquid.
“Please tell me he drank from that.” You said, your eyes gleaming with laughter as you glanced at John. His expression was enough to cause you to burst out into laughter as you followed after Sherlock in the living room.
You certainly didn’t miss the way Sherlock blushed from embarrassment.
Though it did surprise you how much more pleasant and sweet you had been to the man. Oh, neither of you had held back on your arguing and bickering and reasoning.
Yet there was a certain softness to both of your tones, almost a tenderness to it that neither of you would admit was there.
Bridesmaid dresses.
The one item on your to do list as a maid of honor that was eating you alive. You had narrowed the colors of the dresses down to three, but you were still undecided.
Which was why you, Mary and somehow Sherlock were sitting in a bridal shop as you tried on dress after dress. Mary was giving you her undivided attention, while Sherlock was busy on his phone, most likely solving a case. Every now and then, when you would walk out wearing a new dress, he would make a negative comment about whatever you were wearing, making you try and argue back to which he would simply justify his reasoning.
And though you didn’t want to admit it, he was always right.
Tired and a little grumpy, you exited the changing rooms in one more dress.
“What do you think about this one?” You said, giving a little twirl to allow the skirts of the skirt to flow about your legs. Mary gave a nod and smile of approval. Sherlock barely glanced up.
“The color washes you out.”
Your temper flared and you practically growled at him as you snatched the phone from his hand. “Thats it! Everything is either too long or too short, or too conservative or not revealing enough, or the color washes me out or it makes my complexion seem dark.” You poked a finger to his chest.
“Why don’t you pick out something that you think will suit me and we can be done with this entire thing, because I’m getting bloody tired.” Sherlock continued to look at you for a good few moments, but you didn’t allow your gaze to falter as you stared back in defiance.
Finally he moved away, disappearing in the racks before returning with a dress within minutes.
“Here. Try this.” He threw the dress in your direction, which you quickly caught and stomped off to try.
A few minutes later, having adjusted the dress to fit your body, you emerged from the changing room to stand in front of your friends. “Well?” You asked. You hadn’t felt nervous when you had been trying on all the other dresses. But this was a dress Sherlock had picked out, and in the deepest parts of your cold heart, you wanted him to say something nice to you about it.
Mary clapped her hands in delight. “Oh! It looks beautiful on you Y/N.” She said, smiling from ear to ear. You smiled at her before turning your gaze to Sherlock and looking at him expectantly.
He was staring at you, that much anyone could see. The intensity in his gaze caused you to shiver involuntarily, but you didn’t look away. “It looks……acceptable.” He finally said.
Mary let out a loud groan before lightly hitting Sherlock’s shoulder. “Oh for God’s sake Sherlock! Just tell the girl she looks gorgeous!” She exclaimed, noticing how your face fell just a little at the less than stellar compliment you had received.
Sherlock straightened as he frowned at Mary. “Beauty is a social construct. It’s based on society’s ideas that have been ingrained into our systems and our psyches over time and have been accepted as the norm. I prefer to see Beauty as something that is in the eyes of the beholder.” In the middle of his little speech you had moved to stand in front of him. Your gaze flickered to Mary, who seemed to give an encouraging nod.
You swallowed your nerves before speaking. “And what do your eyes beheld?” You asked, feeling shy and nervous at the same time as you met his cerulean gaze.
He looked back at you, with the same intensity that had been in your eyes when you had first walked out wearing the dress. He slowly stood so he was standing directly in front of you. Of course he had to tower over you given his height. But you found you liked it, as you tilted your head back to look at him.
“That you look ethereal.”
The last word was barely out of his mouth before you felt a blush heating your entire face as you stared at him, stunned.
As if he had realized what he just said, and gathering his wits about him, Sherlock strode out of the shop. But not before he stopped at the window display in front of which you had been parading out in dresses.
Your eyes met through the clear glass, with a gentle yet hopeful smile playing about your lips. Sherlock’s gaze seemed to soften as well as he looked at you through the glass. The moment only lasted for a few seconds before he walked off, leaving behind an ecstatic you and a stunned Mary.
You glared at the man in front of you before aiming a kick to his torso yet again.
“You raped her and then killed her to make sure she stayed quiet.” Another kick, followed by a loud groan from the almost prone figure that lay on the carpeted floor. “You don’t deserve an early death like the others did.”
Another kick to his chest that sent him wheezing. You had definitely felt something move this time and knew you had at least cracked a rib. Still that did not stop you, not as you continued to kick him, your home-made steel tipped shoes allowing you to land one heavy blow after another.
You had already castrated him, now the only job was to finish him.
“You thought you could get away? That you would get off just because she died?!” The young victim had died on your watch. And despite knowing the man would go to jail given the evidence against him, you had snapped. He had stolen away the woman’s life by beating her senseless.
Just like the man who had stolen your sister from you.
You stopped only once the man laid still. Reaching down with your gloved hand you pressed your fingers to his neck. Satisfied at the lack of a pulse, you pulled off your boots, and just as you had done with all other kills, you left the murder weapon at the scene.
Glancing down at the now dead male one last time with no sense of remorse in your gaze, you left his apartment.
Well the wedding had ended with no one dying.
Well someone had almost died but it had been a win since he hadn’t died.
And as you watched Mary and John share a dance after Sherlock had dropped the startling news about Mary being pregnant, you felt as if your heart would truly burst from happiness.
Over the year since you had known the couple, you had begun to love them and see them as something of a family. Someone you were close to and adored with every fiber of your being.
And then there was Sherlock.
Sighing as you pulled on your coat, you wondered just what was it that existed between the two of you. He was perplexing, in the most intriguing of ways, and he challenged you every step of the way. Something that you loved, because you were a sadist when it came to making your life as complicated as possible.
Glancing one final time at the people still dancing at the wedding, you gave a small smile of content before stepping out into the night. It was Spring, but the temperature had dropped a little, prompting you to wrap your coat further around yourself. Thank goodness your heels were comfortable enough for you to walk without your feet hurting.
You had only made it a few paces when you caught sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance of the gardens.
“Sherlock?” You called out, startling the man enough to cough slightly where he had been smoking a cigarette. “I thought you were going to get rid of that habit.” You frowned disapprovingly at him, to which he simply shrugged.
“The situation called for it.” He stated, crushing the butt under his shoe and glancing in the direction of the hall where the dancing was still going strong. You glanced in the direction as well.
“Are you referring to the fact that John and Mary are married, or that they are going to have a baby?” You asked, recalling a conversation you had with Mary at how scared Sherlock had been when it came to the change that would come in his life because of John getting married.
He didn’t reply, opting to simply stand where he was and keep looking at the hall. Finally, you sighed. Gently taking his hand, you began to lead him away.
Throughout your short walk to the train station neither of you let go of the other’s hand. In a way, it was a sad day for you as well. Just like Sherlock had lost his best friend, you had lost Mary. They would both be living a separate life now.
Leaving you and Sherlock behind.
As soon as you reached the train station, and settled into your seats, you pulled off your shoes and curled up in your seat. You were still wearing your maid of honor dress underneath your coat. The train ride would last a couple of hours, which was what prompted you to settle your head against Sherlock’s shoulder, take his hand in yours once more, and slowly begin to drift off to sleep.
Unknown to you, Sherlock had only smiled slightly at your gesture, before resting his own head on top of yours and dozing off as well.
The Castrator had struck again, and this time, Sherlock was going to catch her for sure.
While at other times he would be fascinated by the game of cat and mouse him and the killer had been playing, after John leaving, he needed a win.
So he went over every single employee file that had been given to him, going over them again and again to try and find a connection between the rape victims and the killer. His gaze flickered to the end of the document.
And he paused.
He stared long and hard. Unable to believe his eyes and yet it made so much sense.
File after file he opened and there it was again and again.
Sherlock had solved the mystery of the who, now the question was - Why?
You stood over the CEO slipping the bottle of poison into your pocket as you moved to climb out of the window from which you had entered. You glanced back, watching in satisfaction as his body twitched and foam frothed his mouth.
In a few moments he would be dead.
And he would deserve it.
He was a pedophile. He deserved death.
Jumping down to the ground which was only a few feet away, you brushed yourself off and made to walk off when a rough hand grasped your wrist.
You gasped, raising your other hand to strike whoever it was when you stopped.
“Sherlock?”
The man stared back at you, and though his face was clear of all emotions, there was storm brewing in his gorgeous blue eyes. A feeling of dread settled in your stomach as you realized that he had figured out who The Castrator was.
And now you had to face him.
“I didn’t want to believe it at first. Its why I came here without any police.” He admitted as he finally let you go. The two of you stood in front of one another, gazes never wavering.
“How did you figure it out?” You asked, your voice soft.
“You were the attending nurse for every rape victim who’s attacker was killed. It had to be you. There was no other connection.” The look in his eyes made you want to look away, yet you couldn’t. You owed him an explanation.
“I don’t understand Y/N. Why?” He finally asked the question to which you glanced around.
“Can we go back to your place?”
You had fully expected him to tell you off for even suggesting it, but he only nodded.
About twenty minutes later you were sitting in John’s armchair while Sherlock occupied his own. You removed your gloves, setting them aside as you turned you gaze towards the empty hearth.
“My mother was raped when she was twenty years old. They were never able to catch the guy, and she was too scared to actually take any action against him because he was rich and had the ability to buy out any lawyer she could hire. So, she stayed quiet, never talked about it to anyone, and when I was born, claimed that she had adopted me.” You felt him shift where he sat prompting you to raise your eyes to look at him and nod. “Yes Sherlock, I was the product of that rape. A constant reminder for my mother that the monster had effected her life forever.”
You bit your lower lip as you tried to keep those haunting images of your mother’s face away from the forefront of your mind. “She had good days and bad days. I have a feeling the rape caused some long-term psychological disorder, but I learned to survive with them. My life was dark and I didn’t have a normal childhood with the way my mother treated me. Though that all went away when she gave birth to my sister, Thea.” You smiled softly as your hand reached into your shirt to pull out a small locket with the picture of a sweet looking girl inside.
“I know you’re not one for sentiment Sherlock, but from the moment she was born, Thea was my whole world. I had found my reason to live. There were days when my mother couldn’t even get out of bed and I would take care of Thea. I was only eight, but I knew what I was doing. I bathed her. Changed her. Fed her. Played with her. I taught her everything. From her first steps, to helping with her homework.”
Despite the lump in your throat and a break in your voice, you continued. “She was the light in my life. And there were times when she could even drag mother out of bed and for a few moments we would be a happy family.”
You shook your head. “But it was nothing but an illusion.” You muttered, sighing with the intensity of someone who carried the very world on their back.
“I came home one day from school, and Thea wasn’t back yet. It started to get dark and I went out looking for her.” You paused, inhaling deeply as if physically preparing yourself for what you were about to say next. “I came back after hours, only to find the police at the door and my mother sobbing hysterically. Apparently Thea had been snatched on her way to school that morning. Her captor had held her for hours, raping her repeatedly before dumping her body where he had picked her up from.”
Despite the raw emotion in your voice and your eyes, there was not a single tear. Since the loss of your sister you hadn’t cried. You figured you didn’t have any more tears left. Just a gaping empty feeling in your chest that you had carried all these years.
“And just like that she was gone. My sweet baby sister.” You whispered, clutching the necklace tighter in your palm as you sighed deeply, running a hand down your face in a wearied manner. “Mother blamed me, said Thea had been my responsibility because I was older. Last time I saw her, she tried to throw a bottle at my head, saying I was the one who deserved to die, not Thea.” A shuddering gasp fell from your lips before you continued.
“And I agree with her. I should’ve been the one who died.” A steely resolve stole into your voice as you allowed your eyes to finally met his. “The police managed to track down the man who killed Thea. I sneaked into his house one night, just to see him. And while I was going through one of his drawers I found this.” You nodded towards the pendant you were still clutching. Tight enough that the shape was embedded in your skin. “He had kept it as a trophy. I heard the door opening, and hid. He was getting back from somewhere and was drunk.”
Pursing your lips, your mind replayed the scene in your head, though this time you could feel Sherlock’s comforting presence next to you. “Something inside me just snapped.” You whispered, as your mind’s eye played the scene out perfectly with a younger you as a participant and your older self watching.
Watching how you grabbed a fire poker and stepped out of the shadows, taking the fire poker from the stand near you.
Watching how he stepped into your line of sight and your eyes met.
For that one brief moment, a horrible realization rose within you.
That this had been the face your sister had seen before she died.
You watched as a scream fell from your lips, the same moment you lashed out with the poker and hit him again…..
….and again….
…..and again…..
…..and again……
“Y/N?”
You gasped, panting slightly as you returned from reliving your memory. Your head seemed to be spinning as your eyes found Sherlock.
When did he come to kneel in front of you? He had his hands wrapped around yours, which were still clutching the pendant. You loosened your hold around it slightly, though Sherlock made no move to pull back as he continued to look at you.
You gulped. “I killed him.”
Silence followed your words. Sherlock simply stared at you, his blue gaze piercing into the very dark depths of your mind and heart.
“Why did you start killing again?” He finally asked, wanting to hear it from you. You gulped.
“There was this girl who came in. Rape victim. She had slashed her wrists because she couldn’t live with the fact that her rapist had gotten away. And seeing her lying there, I was reminded of Thea so much that I just …..” You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
You sighed deeply as you leaned forward, your forehead touching your clasped hands. The silence seemed to stretch on until finally you whispered. “Are you going to have me arrested now?” You asked the question that had been weighing down on you.
Sherlock licked his lips, though you didn’t see it, given your face was still bent over both your hands as if in prayer, his face was one of sympathy and……understanding almost.
“A normal person would yes, but then I’m not normal am I?” You glanced up at him, a startled expression on your face as he continued. “As a self-proclaimed sociopath I believe I can ignore what you have done because according to the dictionary I have no conscience.”
You couldn’t help yourself as you made a disbelieving sound. “That is bollocks and you know it Sherlock, you’re a high functioning sociopath, get your facts straight.” You teased him, recalling the many many times he had been called a psychopath by others only for Sherlock to correct them.
“I have one question though Y/N.” His gaze was……..uncertain, when he looked at you, prompting you to frown in confusion.
“Did you become friends with Mary to get close to me, so that I wouldn’t suspect you?”
His words caused your entire body to seize up and your eyes widened. Multiple emotions played about your face, too quick for Sherlock to deduce. You frantically shook your head, lifting a hand to rest it against his cheek.
“Sherlock, please believe me when I say that I truly had no intentions of doing anything like that.” You took a shuddering breath before continuing in earnest. “Please you have to believe me. After Thea died and my mother disowning me, meeting Mary was the one bright thing in my life. Then I became friends with John and through the both of them I was able to meet you.” There was a brief pause in your words, but gaze was unwavering, and your features schooled into a determined expression as you continued.
“I know you will never accept me for who I am and what I have done, but hear me Sherlock Holmes. Our meeting was entirely up to fate and she delivered. I have met you, spent time with you, laughed with you, adored you.” You hesitated before finishing. “And I have loved you from the moment I saw you.”
He was silent as you stopped speaking, allowing the words to sink in for the both of you. Never before had you bared your soul to anyone like you had to Sherlock. Maybe it was because you had tasted that sweet sweet nectar of friendship, love and acceptance. And you didn’t want to loose it.
And Sherlock knew that if you did loose the life you had built for yourself, you would loose yourself as well.
And he wasn’t about to let that happen.
Not on his watch.
You began to speak again, words almost tumbling out as you did. “And I know it might seem irrational to you and illogical, but I’ve - I jus-mmph.” Your words were cut off when Sherlock placed a hand at the back of your head, and pulled you down to kiss you. Your breath hitched and your eyes widened comically.
The kiss was over just as soon as it had begun.
The two of you blinked at one another. You could still feel the tingling sensation of having his lips pressed to yours. And Sherlock? He had taken just a taste of a kiss, and he was already craving more.
“I will speak to my brother.” He finally said. “And I will make sure none of those murders are traced back to you.” You blinked, not having expecting that. His hand was still at the back of your head, holding you in place, though you weren’t complaining. Not when your nose was brushing against his and you could feel his warm breath every time he spoke.
“And I will also make sure that the legal system doesn’t allow these monsters to slip away. Mycroft is the British government, he can make it happen.”
His gaze turned serious as he continued. “But you will not kill again.”
A small laugh fell from your lips as you closed your eyes and leaned forward once more, though this time you rested your forehead against his. “I never wanted to kill anyone Sherlock. I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want those victims to feel helpless like Thea had felt in her final moments. And it made me feel helpless and….and alone.” Your voice broke slightly at the end, causing a physical ache to form in Sherlock’s chest, as if he could feel the pain you felt.
He loosened his hold on your hands, instead interlocking your fingers and keeping a firm grip.
“You’re not alone anymore, Y/N.” He reassured you.
This time, you were the one who initiated the kiss, allowing your lips to brush against his in an almost tender gesture. He reciprocated by returning the kiss with a slight pressure against your own. His tongue made a sudden swipe across your bottom lip, and he found the taste of you just as addicting as he did your scent, your laugh, your smile, your voice, your very presence.
You smiled at his eagerness, falling ever deeper into the embrace.
And as the kiss deepened, you could feel a small part of your shattered heart come together in one piece. It would take time for you to heal, but in time you would heal.
With him.