Human Error ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book IV}

Chapter XXII - Waste of Lead

-Emily-

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I am dragged from my state of comfortable unawareness by an internal jolt; my muscles seize and I feel myself jerk upright, the remnants of the chemicals in my system making themselves known.

I do not move for some time.

I'm lying on my side, one arm outstretched, still on the marble floor. My mouth and throat and nose are raw with a bitter, synthetic sting, and I feel distinctly nauseous—whether it is the result of the toxic solution in my bloodstream or the knowledge of what is about to happen, I do not know. I try to test my voice, but the words snag and I cough; a wracking, heaving cough that tastes like molten metal and tests the limits of my pain tolerance.

I can't let him hear me.

I force a hand over my mouth, stifling the worst of the sound, and I open my eyes.

I'm in the penthouse lobby—quite literally discarded, left on the floor like human litter. I coerce my burning limbs to function and, gritting my teeth against the pain being pumped through each inflamed vessel, I sit up.

He's here.

Jim is standing by the imposing window, watching the life on the streets below.

He does not turn around.

I move slowly, cautiously, suppressing a grimace as I lean forwards to slip off my shoes. I place them beside me, preventing the tell-tale click of heels on the marble as I begin to stand up. I take a soft, unsteady step towards the door. Whatever was soaked into the fabric of that rag is making each movement a challenge; my hand will twitch without warning, my balance will veer suddenly and I can feel the spasms that shake the web of cells comprising my damaged neurones. I take another step. Then another. And another. I lift my hand, reach for handle—and then the joint in my knee snaps backwards as the drug meets its target.

I fall heavily, the resonating yelp and thump of my skull on the doorframe audible throughout the room.

I hear him sigh.

"Just when we'd got you so well trained."

I can only watch from my unseemly slump on the floor as he crosses the room, coming to a stop in front of me, looking down.

"You had such simple instruction."

I make another attempt at standing. He watches as I struggle.

"Stay controlled, I told you. Stay calm."

Using the doorframe as means of support, I pull myself up.

"You had the words fed to you. You had people standing by. How you managed to fail so miserably is beyond me."

I swallow the rising bile at the back of my throat and I look at him, my voice patchy and broken with each disjointed syllable.

"You heard what they said."

"And you listened to them."

"You assumed-"

"I assumed you had enough control to listen to my directive."

"Then you are an ignorant man."

He laughs then, his head thrown back, callously amused. There is a smile on his face, but it lacks humour—it is savage, a furious instability locked behind bared teeth. I turn away with every intention of putting as much distance between myself and this man as possible, but he takes my chin in his hand and twists my head to face his, his nails digging crescents into the scarred skin of my jaw.