221B

Chapter 18 - A Study in Pink

I shut the door and lean against it. I heave a sigh and slump against the door, sliding down to the ground, my knees tucked up to my chest. I tilt my head back and stare up at the ceiling.

Why did I have to do that? Why did I have to-?

I hear quiet footsteps down the hall, and they stop right in front of my door, at the very end of the hallway. I quietly stand up and look through the crack between the door and the wall, where I see a shadow rise up to the door to knock, but stops short right before knocking. I hear somebody heave a sigh and I know it's Sherlock.

A moment later, a moment filled with dead silence, he walks away.

I open the door and step out into the hallway.

"Sherlock?"

He stops and turns. "Yeah?" He says, attempting to act like he did nothing but fails.

"Why were you...?" I trail off, gesturing to the door.

"I just wanted to say...I'm sorry." He says.

"Sorry?" I say. "You didn't do anythi-"

"I pushed you too hard, Kate. And I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"You didn't push me too-"

"Yes, I did. And-"

"Will you shut up for a second and stop interrupting?" I pause. "You didn't push me too hard, I'm just not...ready to say anything yet."

He nods. "Will you ever tell?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Because you're scared something's going to happen to John and I."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What makes you think that?"

"You had said that John and I were the closest people to you, did you not?"

I nod.

"Then I can only assume that if you care about someone, but won't tell them something about your past, it could be because it is harmful and you wouldn't want to jinx it and have it come back and bite you in the arse." He says.

"Are you saying this from experience?"

He smirks. "No. I don't have people to care about." He pauses. "Nor people to care about me." He adds very quietly.

"That's not true." I say.

"What?" He looks me in the eye.

"People care about you. And I know you care for them." I say. "For example, there's me...John...Mrs. Hudson...your brother...would you like me to go on?" I pause. "The point is...people care for you, Sherlock. I want you to know that."

A moment later, he nods, a silent thank you, I guess.

"And don't you dare forget it, alright?"

He nods again. "Alright."

I smile. "Good. 'Night Sherlock."

"'Night." He smiles back, and I turn and close my bedroom door behind me.

A few minutes later, when I have black shorts and a form-fitting dark blue tank top on, I cross the room, turn off the light, and instantly a hand clamps over my mouth and is swiftly replaced with a cloth. My shrieks are muffled by the cloth as that same person's arms wrap underneath one arm and across my torso and drags me backwards. I kick and struggle against them as much as I can.

As my eyes adjust to the very dim light, I see another man by a window in the room, which is wide open. I see him clip something to his belt and when we reach him, I'm thrown over his shoulder despite my struggling against them. The man with the belt wraps an arm around my knees, and he practically leaps out of the window, pulling me with him.