Pain and Coffee Beans

Chapter 2

John's mouth fell as Lestrade's men pushed past him into the little room before him. He looked to Sherlock, who stood motionless. Surely he was upset that he hadn't seen this coming; not at what he was seeing. But John was a different man. His heart sank when Lestrade called him in to see the girl chained to the floor. The man that had been standing behind her lay on the ground now, one of the officers had struck him over the head. John didn't stop to see if he was still alive. He shouldn't be. What sort of man does this to another human being?

She was chained in such a way that she couldn't move, stuck kneeling. Her head fastened still by a thick, rusty collar with a taunt chain on either side. To keep her from looking around he assumed. Her hands were fastened tightly to the ground, assuring she wouldn't fight back. Her waist and knees were chained together in such a way that she couldn't lay down on her side or stretch out. She was naked and absolutely filthy. Her long brunette hair matted and oily from not being washed. She had deep cuts and nasty purple bruises from where she'd fought against her bonds. How long had she been here? She was impossibly thin. Her bones easily visible under her skin. A line of blood ran down her inner thigh.

"Call an ambulance, Sherlock," he called over his shoulder as he crouched down by her face, cringing at the sight of the too-tight bit in her mouth, "We're here to help you," he said as soothingly as he could, "I'm a doctor. My name is John Watson. You're safe now." The girl turned her head as far as she could in the tight collar, blood trickled down her chest from the torn skin of her neck. She didn't look like she understood him at first, but her eyes widened at the word 'safe' and he could swear he saw her smile from behind the bit in her mouth. With that, she lost consciousness.

******

She opened her eyes in a strange place, a white place, a clean place. She recognized the room she was in as a hospital. The sound of muffled voices droned outside the room door. There was an IV in her arm, dripping a clear substance into her body. She looked around curiously, a bouquet of flowers sat on the chest of drawers beside her; a 'Get Well Soon' note attached to the top by a tiny plastic trident. After closer examination, she could see the note had been signed by a John Watson. The name sounded familiar. John Watson. But she couldn't remember why and didn't have the time to think about it because the doctor came bustling in. He was a small man. Thin and wiry. His nose was long and pointed; his eyes too close together. But his smile spread across his whole face making him look like the happiest man alive. She liked that.

"You're awake! Good. My name is Dr. Hastings," he flipped through a few papers on a metal clipboard she hadn't noticed till now, "After you were brought here we drew some blood. You woke up, which you may not remember, and began to fight my nurses!" He laughed happily as if it was the silliest of things, "We had to sedate you to continue making sure you would survive. You're a very lucky woman, you know. You're extremely malnourished. We were surprised you had any energy at all. This," he pointed to the IV, "Will help with that! Loaded with nutrients! We cleaned and bandaged all the lacerations. Miraculously you have no infections. I do have some bad news for you though," he paused and gave her a reassuring look, "Your knees are in bad shape. Completely fallen apart. We can fix that though. A small reconstructive surgery and lots of physical therapy and you should be up and walking soon. If all goes well of course." He flipped through more papers, "I have some worse news. When you woke you tried to scream at us, but not much sound came out. We took a look at your vocal cords, and we are going to keep a close eye on them, but they're in a bad way and if you try to talk they could tear completely leaving you mute. So if you need something, press the nurse button," he gestured to a little button on the side of the bed, "And then you can write down whatever you want to say in this little notebook!" The doctor pulled a small blue notepad from his coat pocket and handed it to her, "I'm sure I have an extra pen around here somewhere," he patted his pockets, "It seems I don't have an extra! Here," he handed her the pen he'd had in the little pocket just below his name tag on his coat, "You can have mine. Is there anything you'd like to ask before I leave?"

She looked down at the pen in her hand, then back at the smiling doctor, and shook her head.

"Alright! If you need anything don't hesitate to call the nurse," he turned and headed toward the door, "Oh," he turned back to her, "You have a few visitors, do you feel well enough to see them?" She nodded slowly. "Alright then! I'll send them in," he said smiling, and then he vanished.

Visitors? She absently flipped through the small notebook. Who could be visiting her now? Did she have any family? She couldn't remember.

******

It wasn't long before two men entered her room. One of them short and blonde with a big nose, and the other tall with wild dark hair and a long, serious face.

"Hello dear, do you remember me? My name is John Watson," the blonde man spoke. She smiled shyly and pointed at the flowers. "Yes," he smiled and rocked onto his toes, "Those are from me. Do you like them?" She nodded and he smiled. The room fell silent. She looked from one man to the other for a moment before pointing at the silent tall man who hadn't stopped watching her since he entered the room. John turned to see where she had pointed and then laughed, "This is Sherlock.."

"Sherlock Holmes," The tall man spoke, cutting off John, "The doctor told us that you cannot speak and since you have no idea who you are there is no reason for me to be here," he turned to John, "I am ready to go now. This girl cannot help us find the others."

"Sherlock! Don't be so rude. She can hear just fine," John turned to her, ignoring Sherlock, "How are you feeling? Can you tell us your name?"

"Don't be daft, John. I've already told you she doesn't know.." She held up a hand, cutting Sherlock off, and opened her little notebook. She scribbled something in it and handed it to John.

I feel terrible. And I don't remember who I am.

John smiled at her sadly before handing Sherlock her note so he could read it, "I'm sorry you feel badly. But you're safe now."

The word 'safe' caused her mind to explode with pictures and sounds. She clapped her hand over her mouth remembering the faceless man. Remembering seeing John. Hearing him tell her she was safe now. Tears streamed down her face, and she reached out to John.

He looked startled, but took her hand, "Are you ok? What is it? Should I call the nurse?"

She shook her head and, still holding John's hand tightly, reached out to Sherlock for her notebook. He handed it to her quickly, watching her every movement as she scribbled something again, and handed it to John.

You saved me. I remember.

"Actually," John said, giving to notebook back to her, "It was Sherlock who found you. Without him, they never would have found where you were being kept."

She looked at Sherlock, then back to John and he nodded. She turned to a new page in her book, wrote something quickly, and then held it out to Sherlock. He hesitated for a moment before taking it from her.

Thank you.

She watched him carefully as he read her words, noting that he read them several times before looking up at her. His lips twitched almost imperceptibly, "You're most welcome," he said, handing her the book. She took it back eagerly, turning the page and writing again before handing it back to him. He took it this time without hesitation. She could see his face changing rapidly, the tiny movements of his lips and eyebrows spoke volumes to her; she could almost hear his thoughts as he read what she had written.

Who am I?