The Mystery of Jayden Holmes (A Greg Lestrade fanfic)

Chapter Five

My eyes shot open, not bothering to take the time to try to adjust to the bright lights. I sat up, but collapsed back into place with a yelp of pain. My hand automatically went to the source of the major discomfort and I felt one...two...four stitches on my side. My memories came back like a fuzzy movie and I just barely remembered my conversation with Moriarty and the large shard of glass that had caused the cut on my side. The smell of disinfectant filled my nose and I looked around to find myself no longer in 221B. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the bed I was laying in was white.Everything white. The only splash of color was the person walking into the room with coffee in his hand.

“Greg?” I muttered, sitting up slowly this time. I was a little surprised to see him, so I ended up sitting there and staring at him like an idiot.

“Hey, thank God you’re awake. How’re you feeling?” He took a seat beside me and I still just watched him like a moron. I was so wrapped up in my mental questioning that  hadn’t even noticed him grab my hand until much later.

“Well, since this is my second trip to the hospital this week, I’ve been much better. At least I’m still living if you want to look at it that way.” I shrugged like it was nothing and forced a small smile before finally asking him, “Hey, um, not that I really care, but why are you here?” I finally managed to tear my eyes away from him.

“I stopped by the flat to talk to your brother and John, but I found you blacked out on the ground instead. Did your ex do this to you?” His voice got a little stern and I knew exactly where this conversation would lead. “Jayden, you’re going to have to tell me eventually. First, he broke your wrist, and now, you’re in the hospital with four stitches in your side and a mild concussion.  Are you really going to let this go on until he eventually kills you?”

“He won’t kill me. He gets off on hurting me. If he killed me he wouldn’t have his play toy. Thank you for caring, but really, you have to drop this.”

“I was partially okay with dropping this when we talked about it at the bar, but this has gone too far. I understand, it’s your choice, but now I’m not going to just let this go,” he argued, leaning forward in his seat.

“It’s not like you can force an answer out of me like I’m some child. Don’t expect me to just give up and tell you because I’m tired of arguing or something; I’m stubborn.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed to face him, ultimately regretting that move in the end, but not letting the pain show. With our faces only about a foot apart, I could smell the faint scent of his cologne and the Irish cream coffee on his breath.

“Then I’ll ask one of your brothers or John; I’m sure one of them would tell me,” his voice rose a bit and so did mine when I spoke.

“Dear God! Why do you bloody care so much, Greg? I get you don’t want me to end up like your mum, and I’m sorry you had to go through that, but why care so much about a woman you’ve just met?” My voice rose the more I spoke and I was sure a nurse would come in to break up our little tiff.

“Just because I do,” his tone softened and it seemed as though the cloud of tension that previously filled the room had dissipated. I looked at him in disbelief, not sure exactly how to reply.

What I did next surprised the both of us. I bridged the gap between us by pressing my lips against his. His lips were rough and unmoving as he wasn’t reacting. I felt like I had done something horribly wrong and so I started to pull away, my stomach wrenching itself in humiliation. Just as I had allowed any room to be between us, his hand flew up and pulled me back to him. It was a sweet, chaste kiss which wasn’t something I was used to. One of his hands was placed gently on the back of my neck while the other held my hand. We broke apart and I bit my lip, looking away from him.

“That, um, that was nice,” I murmured awkwardly.

He was about to say something when his phone went off. He let out an irritated sigh before answering. “This better be good Anderson...Oh...I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and looked back to me.

“Have fun,” I half smiled, knowing he couldn’t help it.

“Sorry.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips before walking out. My half smile turned into a full smile as I laid back down and closed my eyes.

I listened to the sounds of people walking by and a patient arguing with someone a few doors down. Two pairs of footsteps walked by my door, one of which changed its course and walked into my room. I opened my eyes to see a tall, slightly tanned my standing in the doorway. He was about 6’ 1” with ginger hair that was fashioned into military buzz cut with stubble to match. Green eyes watched me from above the scar that crossed his nose. I smirked a bit when I saw him and rolled my eyes.

“Hey there, Tiger,” I greeted him playfully.

“Do you really have to call me that?” he asked, his gruff, Irish voice sounding annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Hey there, ‘Sebastian’. Is that better? I still feel like I have a right to call you Tiger though.”

“My military pals were the only ones allowed to call me that,” he said as he took the seat Greg had been sitting in moments ago and his muscles flexed when he crossed his arms.

“And I may not be military, but you were there for my first time and I think that gives me the right to call you Tiger,” I grinned and winked; he let out a small chuckle. Sebastian Moran a.k.a. the man who taught me to kill.

“So, looks like Boss did quite a number on you,” he said suddenly and my good mood changed instantly. “I don’t think he’s too happy with you being involved with that detective that’s been prying way too much.”

“Is that why you’re here? To check on me for him? And don’t worry about Lestrade, that’s nothing,” I lied.

“No, I’m here because I thought we were friends and when I saw how angry he was I thought you might be in this kind of condition.”

“He’s gotten worse Sebastian and it worries me. He got so caught up in trying to hurt Sherlock that I became more of a punching bag than a fiancé. Honestly, I’m glad to not be living with him. I was sick of being abused and now I have a reason to get away from him. It’s kind of refreshing in a way, y’know?” I wouldn’t look at him as I spoke. I knew that no matter how close he and I were, he and Jim were closer. Whatever I said would be relayed back and if I looked at Sebastian I wouldn’t have the guts to say what I wanted. What could I say? Sebastian was one of the only people who could intimidate me, the other being Jim.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into Jayd, when you said yes; it’s not my fault you weren’t exactly as prepared as you thought you would be.” He leaned back in his seat, watching me carefully as I turned toward him.

“I know what I agreed to, and that wasn’t part of it,” I growled lowly.

“Maybe you should have stayed Victoria.” He stood up and walked out of my room, my eyes burning holes in his back. No one calls me Victoria.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update and that this chapter is so short. Thank you all for helping me reach the 100 reads mark. That means more to me than maybe it should, but it means a lot. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you guys think in the comments!