I believe in you - Sherlock Fanfiction.

Chapter twenty six - Bruises.

Warning: This is a little descriptive.

**Holland's POV**

Fun? What did he mean by fun?

I had a slight clue of what he meant, but i hoped he just wanted torture me by beating me up or drugging me again. The smile that was plastered on his face when he mentioned 'fun' sent shivers down my spine. After he said that, he walked off into another room, leaving me to sit on the couch freely.

I should try and escape, if he keeps leaving me by myself without any real threat. But i didn't even know where i was, what happens if i was in the middle of nowhere? His home itself looked cottage-like and not what you would normally see in a mans home. It looked like it belonged to an elderly woman, I was debating whether this was his home after all.

I looked behind me, and see that the door that he entered that lead up the stairs was shut. When he opened it to go up there, i also observed that there was a front door there. Chances are that they're locked, so i get up and go to the nearest window and peek out. There's a road, but no cars. In the distant i can see some houses, but there not close enough. But wherever there are houses there's a town, right? I know were defiantly still in London, so maybe if I escape i can find somewhere farmiliar-

"Why are you looking out the window?"

I quickly snapped my head around and saw him closing the door behind him. He's not stupid, he know's why im looking out the window. His brother may have planned things out wrong but I know he was the smart one as well as an psychopath.

"Admiring the view." I give him a sarcastic smile. He shakes his head and tuts, then begins walking over to me but stops once he reaches the couch.

"Come here."

I don't move. Instead i stay standing where I am, not obeying to his orders.

He sighs and shakes his head again, disappointingly. He lifts his right hand and puts him behind him, and then pulls out a hand gun from his back pocket. I hold my breath for a moment, and he points it at me then nods his head towards the spot in front of him. "I said, come here."

I hesitate, then start walking towards him slowly. I didn't really have a choice now. I wasn't sure if the gun was real, but I didn't want to find out. He had full control now and he knew it. I only knew self defense, but even that makes me helpless in this situation. I mentally curse to myself.

I stop walking when im only two steps away from him. He takes two steps so that he's in front of me, then placed his hand which he held the gun on my waist, being careful not to drop the gun in the progress. His other hand reached up towards my cheek, and he brushed my cheek with his thumb, "You're so... beautiful."

I don't look at him.

"Don't look so scared." He frowned, and leaned closer, "You don't need to be scared yet, I won't hurt you."

He smiled, and crashed his lips on mine. I could feel his stubble on my chin as he moved his lips. I didn't kiss back, feeling too ashamed and disgusted too. But luckily he didn't say anything. His could smell and taste the light trail of alcohol on his lips. He soon moved his lips away from mine and trailed kisses down my jawline and down my neck until he reached my collar bone. I winced as he bit down on my skin, leaving a bruise.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" He muttered against my skin, "Do something."

I gasped as he bit my neck again, all sort of things questions lacing my thoughts. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, debating whether to push this pervert off me and to punch him in the throat. I was terrified, he was much stronger and had a gun.

My eyes soon shot open as I heard music. I wasn't on what song it was, or why it was playing, but thank god it went off. He stopped what he was doing and moved his lips away and left my bra stap alone, before groaning, picking up his gun and walking towards his phone.

"What?" He snapped, and listened to what the caller had to say. I saw a smile grew on his face as he hung up. He walked over to me, making me grimace as he stroked his hand on my cheek again, "Wait here, i'll be back soon." He then kissed my forehead, and put his phone back where he found it, "Windows are closed and so are the doors. Don't waist your time trying to free youself, but make yourself at home."

Then he went back upstairs to do whatever he needed to do. Maybe he had a laptop up there or something where he needed to comminicate to other people? Who's cares? I shake my head and try to stop thinking about him. He was gone. For now.

I walked over to the couch and sat down, putting my head in my hands and crying. I cried for minutes on end, letting all my tears out before he could come back down and see me. I felt utterly weak and pathetic, I hated crying. It was such a sterotype thing for a girl in my position to do, but I couldn't help it.

I calm myself. I wiped my eyes, and rubbed my sore neck where he had left at least two or more bruises. Luckily, it wasn't high up by my jawline. I could hide them if I got out of this alive.

I stand up, and approach the mirror that was hanging on the wall. I let out a low, mumbled squel but no tears come. I didn't have anymore tears to waste. I bite my lip in anger and sadness, looking at the damage he'd caused. I close my eyes and sigh, but when I re-open them I notice something and widen my eyes in happiness and shock as I see what's in the reflection of the mirror.

On the table behind me was his phone.

A part of me is relieved that my kidnapper is a moron. I forget everything and rush towards it, my hands trembling and the feeling of hope numbed my mind. I sniff and wipe my eyes, pulling myself together before I dial the first person that comes to mind.

Sherlock.