Surely Sherlock

Corpse: Part Two

Chapter Ten

Corpse: Part Two

I awoke to the soft sounds of dripping, and black nothing.

It took me a while to grasp my situation, as my mind was still foggy from the drug I had been  given. I tried moving my hands, but found them to be bound together behind me.   

I was, again, being held captive.

How wonderful.   

I squirmed in my binds, my breathing growing heavier with each movement. It was safe to say that the drug was still in effect. Just my luck.

And I was, yet again, wondering where that bastard  Guillion was. For someone who knew where I was at all times of the day, he was being oddly tardy.  My thoughts wandered back to my current location, and I ceased all movement besides the rhythmic moving of my chest. My corset was in the way of breathing, constricting my rib cage in its hard material.

I curse the dreaded imbecile who decided women should wear such idiocy.  

Footsteps called me back from my mental complaints, and I turned my head towards the sound. I soon had rough hands grope my face as they removed my blindfold.

I clenched my jaw as their fingers brushed my lips, a glare working its way onto my face. I found myself looking at a not so attractive man, and a very appealing one.  

The former of the men had a round face and clear gray eyes that held the same smirk that graced his full lips. His hair was a black hue, almost as black as the moonless night, and his visage was colored a pale tint. As he smiled, I caught sight of pearly white teeth and felt an impressed expression form on my own countenance. He noticed and his smirk expanded as he spoke.  

"What is Lady Link doing at a meeting of old fools," he questioned, now walking a steady circle around me. I caught a sneer from the ugly one, my attention zoning in on him.  

His face was twisted with lumpy scars and what appeared to be burns. His skin was pale, like the other man's, but deathly so. I contemplating what his life must have been like as I took in his cauliflower looking ears. I ignored the well off man's question and directed my words at the other.  

"You must have been beaten as a child, always on the ears, I presume."

His face turned a shade of soft red as I finished my statement, and he stood angrily. I hadn't intended for him to get so cross with me, but he did. His fist connected with my face and a soft cry escaped my lips. Working my jaw, I glared up at him as I tried to compose my face back into the cool mask it had been in when I'd given my insult.  

"Not a very smart brute, are you? Maybe the beatings went past your ears." That earned me another swat to the face and I felt my chair rocking under my swinging weight.

I was soon tasting blood in my mouth and I frowned. Straightening up in the chair, I turned to the man and spat at him. My suspicions of there being blood was confirmed by the crimson hue that was splattered on the man's face. He was not all too pleased with me now.  

In a rush of movement, my chair was knocked back and my head met with the floor. He was breathing heavily over me, anger flushing his face as his thick fingers wrapped around my neck. I struggled for breath until the man turned away at the sound of what must have been his name.  

"Bernard! We need her alive!"  

He released my neck and pulled my chair up as I gasped and coughed. My eyes bore into his, a silent challenge hanging between the two of us. I was snapped out of my mute mockery by the other man.