Chapter Text
The wind was blowing through my hair, but I couldn’t care. My feet tipped back and forth. I took another deep breath; I knew what I needed to do. I leaned forward, but at the last moment stopped; did I want to do this? I was about to throw my life away. There had to be something worth living for.
But I could think of none. I would rather stop the suffering now.
“Madam, since you seem to be somewhat hesitant, might I suggest you not go through with your plan”
I whipped around to see who had spoken to me. A tall man, with all black garb and a hawk-like nose was looking me dead in the eye.
His voice rang with such conviction that I was inclined to agree with him. I slowly lowered my leg…no, I couldn’t be put through it all again! I lifted my leg back on the ledge.
”You are the only one who can make the decision, but I implore you to step off that bridge. Believe me, there is much to live for”
His words rung through my head; he was right. Why should I throw my life away for the blackard?!
I slowly stepped down, then sunk to the ground. How could I have been so weak?! I decided in that moment that I never would be again.
“Who are you?”, I asked the man, my voice hardly above a whisper.
”Sherlock Holmes”
He kindly offered me his hand. I took it letting him help me off the ground.
When I chanced to look upon his face I saw a pair of intelligent eyes that were a kaleidoscope of blue, green, and grey. I could see concern etched in them, concern for me.
My cheeks flared up and I turned my head so I was looking away from him. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared for me and the feeling felt foreign, almost unwanted.
I felt a hand gently grab my own and softly grip it. The action, for a reason I was not able to discern, made me trust the man. It was so odd; if this were any other man I would flinched at the touch. But I could feel the warmth of his nature and felt, though we had just met, that he meant me no harm. I hesitantly lifted my head until I could see those eyes.
Once again they immediately captured my attention. Even if he hadn’t spoken earlier I would have known he was intelligent simply looking at them.
“What’s your name?”, he asked, his voice soothing.
I opened my mouth to talk but nothing came out. My instincts had taken over and told me to be wary.
I felt a gentle rubbing on my hand, then a squeezing. I almost flinched involuntarily. Maybe I did, but if so I hardly noticed. I was still trying to tell if I could trust him.
I thought back to those eyes, the soothing voice, how he had gotten me off the bridge. I think I could.
“Abigail, Abigail Waterfield, I mean Jones!”
I blushed at the mistake and how quick I was to desperately correct myself. Why was I terrified of a complete stranger, one whom I had just learned to trust. Almost involuntarily I rubbed at the wrists.
”You’ve been cruelly used haven’t you, and for a long time”
Everything in me recoiled on itself like a crab hiding in its shell. I could almost feel my face go deathly pale and a shiver work its way through my body. Every one of the livid bruises and scars that littered my body seemed to become more vivid to the eye, more painful for my skin.
I forced my mind to go numb in order to not re-live memories that had been violently seared onto both my mind and body. Holmes and the biting cold disappeared. But I was never able to live in this separate world for long.
I did eventually re-enter the world of the living, with Holmes bending over me, reminding me of a doctor. He carefully sat me up and forced me to have a sip from his flask of brandy.
The smell of it caused me initially to swat the flask away but I allowed the bitter and stinging liquid to work its way down my throat. Whatever my feelings on it were, I had to admit that it certainly snapped me out of my daze.
“Are you able to stand?”, Holmes asked.
I nodded and forced myself off the ground, not accepting Holmes’ help.
“Now Ms. Waterfield, I urge you to do precisely what I tell you. You are to go and collect your things, whatever you need for an overnight stay, but do it quickly and with due deference to your husband. Then come over to 221B Baker Street. I assure you that I will help you but the only way I can do this is if you do as I tell you. Do you understand?’
”Yes Mr Holmes, I understand you perfectly”
At the moment I had two conflicting feelings running through me. The idea of escaping my prison of many years had elated me, but I rather quickly and violently remembered my husband. The elation was nearly over-run with waves of terror. But I couldn’t pass up an opportunity as good as this.
And so I walked down the road towards my home, praying to god it was the last time I would ever have to set foot in there.