Lets Play A Game - Sherlock Fanfiction [Sequel to IBIY]

Chapter twenty five - Agony.

When i woke up the next morning my head was literally banging. Why was it hurting so much? I didn't even drink that much. I'm sure I didn't get drunk.

I try to move, but I hurt all over. My skin felt sore and bruised, so I stopped trying to move myself as It only caused pain. I try to open my eyes instead, which I do with more success. I felt groggy and faint, and there was a weird taste in my mouth that made me want to get up straight away to brush my teeth, but my joint's were too sore and painful, so I let out a sigh, and adjust my eyes to the bright light that shined through the windows.

"Morning." I hear a voice say. Everything was blurry, so I blink a few times to regain my focus. I knew the voice belonged to Sherlock, but i could also make out four body's in the room. We were all in my room, I think, because I can just about see the outline of my desk and keyboard far ahead. I blink a few more times, managing to see the faces of Sherlock, John, Mary and Bill. I think they had only just came into the room, so somebody must have been watching me to tell them when I woke. 

I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment, "Mary, I thought I told you to not let me drink as much?"

"I tried to. I really did, I'm sure I did!" She say's in defense, frowning. I raise my eyebrow, it wasn't that much of a big deal.

"How you feeling?" John ask's, feeling my forehead that was moist with sweat from the heat of the room. I try to move my body again, managing to move my arm to pull the blanket from over me. 

"Horrible." I reply, sweeping my feet from the bed too fast, feeling the pain in my head and the agony in my leg's and stomach, it nearly causes me to fall off the bed. Sherlock catches me, and I close my eyes tightly in pain. What the hell did I do last night?!

"Take it easy." Sherlock's low voice soothes. He gently lay's me back in the bed, but notices how warm I was feeling and leaves the blanket off me for a while.

"What happened?" I questioned, rubbing my head, trying to soothe my headache, "This is probably one of the worst hangover's I've ever had."

Mary frowns, "Don't you remember?"

I open my eyes and look at her, "Remember what?"

She hesitates at first, but soon becomes more confident to tell me. Surely nothing bad happened. Maybe I fell over? It would explain why I hurt everywhere so much. 

"You, uh, you got really drunk, and when I came back from the toilet you were gone. But I swear you wasn't drunk when I left!"

I furrow my eyebrows, clearly confused. Nothing made sense, why were they making a big deal over me getting drunk?

"...When I was looking for you, I found you outside and you were being pinned down by some guy and he was punching you. He ran when I saw him, and when I was making sure you we

re okay you weren't really making much sense. I thought you were knocked in the head at first, but you were drunk."

Oh.

Now it all made sense.

"...But, I don't remember getting drunk." I whisper pathetically. Sherlock doesn't look too impressed with my action's from last night. The guy beating me up explained why my body hurt so much. I bet I looked like such a mess.

"Mary said he was wearing a black leather jacket and a beanie that covered his hair, so the only conclusion was that he was in the middle of beating you, but he was witnessed by someone before assaulting you and murdering you, so he had to run. You're the only woman to survive the predators attack, congratulation."

My eye's grew wide in annoyance at Sherlock, and I gave him a sarcastic smile but my voice remained urgent, "Thanks, arsehole!"

"Listen, we need to know what you remember. He could want to go after you now that you survived, he won't risk having his identity reviled. Not after all the trouble he's went through to stay off CCTV."

"Sherlock," John buts in, putting his hand on his arm in order to get his attention, "She was just attacked last night, give her time."

Sherlock sighed in annoyance, and gave me another angry look. I roll my eyes at him, wanting to know what was wrong, "What?"

 "Nothing." 

"No, what? Why do you seem so pissed of with me for? It's hardly my fault, it's not like I chose for this to happen!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have gotten drunk, you idiot. You could have died!"

Everyone look's at Sherlock in pure, utter shock. No one know's what to say, and nor do I, and it goes so silent that it's almost awkward. I really don't remember getting drunk, and nor does Mary. I lick my lips as they felt dry, and the strange taste from earlier comes back, reminding me that I needed to brush my teeth.

Wait a minute.

"...I think I was drugged."

If people weren't pulling shocked faces before, then they defiantly was now. Sherlock snap's at me about getting drunk, and instead of arguing back, I tell them that I think I was drugged in the most casual way ever.

"What?" Sherlock retorts, his eye's squinting in confusion for a moment.

"I don't remember getting drunk, and there's a weird taste in my mouth."

It's quiet for a few seconds, but then Sherlock jump's out of the chair he was sitting in, making everyone behind him stand back startled, "Someone spiked your drink! Ah, why didn't I think of this before?!" He takes a step forward and places his hands on both the side of my head, kissing my fore head before letting go, "You're a genius!"

Then he leaves, once again, leaving us all confused. First I was an idiot, and now I was a genius. 

I sigh, and rub my forehead once more, "Can someone get me a glass of water?"