Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

The Great Game part 2: Pips

"I need to go home." Clara said, placing a hand on her stomach, which was turning like it was on a roller coaster ride. "Now. Something's not right." She slid down the wall. Her knees felt like they were about to give out.

"I'll call a cab." Lestrade said, pulling out his phone. Sherlock was on his knees in front of her, tilting her head from side to side and generally making sure that she was alright. Besides her rumbling stomach and being very pale, she seemed okay.

"What's wrong? What about that phone call is making you feel like this?" She shook her head.

"Something... something in the wording. It reminds me of something."

"What?"

"That is what's giving me the anxiety. I can't remember, and that's bad." she shook her head. "What could have terrified me to the point that I forgot it? I have a strange inability to repress my memories."

"Your parent's murders." Sherlock stated the obvious.

"I would say that you're right, but I remember everything about that in excruciating detail."

"What about after?"

"Just after or the investigation?"

"Just after." Clara nodded.

"It's a bit fuzzy, if I'm honest. He..." She shut her eyes and tried not to shudder. "He touched me... on my face, I think."

"The murderer?" Clara nodded.

"I remember, he didn't speak much when he was killing my parents." Clara said softly. "He told them to shut up a lot. He was especially violent with Mum. He pistol-whipped them until they were both knocked unconscious. He told me to watch, once... but he never spoke to me otherwise."

"Your cab'll be here any minute, Clara." Lestrade said. Sherlock slid his arm around her waist, pulling her left arm around his shoulders and gripping her wrist tightly, pinning it to the right side of his chest. Clara remembered the position well from a CPR class she'd taken before she'd adopted Ryan. It was to prevent Clara from injuring herself if she were to faint.

"I'm going to help her out to the cab." Sherlock said, standing them both up. John nodded in approval. "John, Lestrade, bag these up. Once she's on her way home, John and I will go to Barts. Lestrade, start searching for the woman. See if anyone's gone missing in the last four hours or so."

"Actually, I'm going with Clara. Scotland yard is on the way to Belgravia."

"No, it's not." Clara and Sherlock said at the same time.

"Well, I'm going anyway. Escort a lady home and all that."

"Thank, you Greg, but its not-"

"I think it's nessesary, ma'am. Out there right now there's some luniatic setting up bombs and threatening Sherlock, John, and, more importantly, you."

"Thanks." John said sarcastically. "I knew you cared."

"Oh, shut it, Watson. She's the most important woman on this whole damn street. She's the only reason our oil prices aren't like the ones in America. So excuse me if I want to help a lady home." Sherlock and John rolled their eyes, and Sherlock helped Clara up the stairs, even though she was perfectly sound and the only thing wrong with her was her intuition.

The cab was already there, and Sherlock helped her inside.

"Will you be alright?" Clara swallowed, but nodded.

"Yeah, but... Something's just not right, Sherlock. Something is really wrong. I don't know what it is, but I can just feel it in my bones."

"You sound like my mum." He said, his words very heavy. She sat with her legs dangling off of the seat, ready to swivle around and shut the door at any second.