Sherlock One shots and Imagines

The Knave of Hearts - Part 7 -Sherlock x Reader

"Well...........it would appear that physically you are quite healthy." John finally said, as he finished his examination of the lady.

"I did say that I was, doctor." The lady replied with a smile, as the doctor got to his feet. John reaching for his gladstone bag, as he saw the look in Sherlock's eyes.

"Um........Miss Bess, I would love a cup of tea............."

"Oh, yes. Of course, Doctor Watson. We could go to the kitchens............"

"Yes, yes. Let's do that................" John agreed. Bess kissing (Y/n) on the cheek, before she and the doctor left the room.

"Tell me of the man in the market............." Sherlock simply said, as the door to the room closed firmly. The consulting detective brushing some fluff from his neatly pressed trousers, before sitting back in the chair. His gaze never leaving the lady, as she rose from the sofa and made her way to one of the large windows that overlooked the Capability Brown designed gardens beyond.

"I must confess, Mister Holmes..............I didn't just see him at the market. I didn't want to say anything in front of Bess, as she has had enough to worry about; but.................." (Y/n) began with a heavy sigh, before making her way back to the sofa and retaking her seat across from Sherlock.

"I first saw the man outside the house that Bess shares with her father.........." She continued; (Y/n) waiting for a moment to see if the younger Holmes was going to say anything, before going on with her story.

"When Bess and I left the house, we first went to see her father. The two of them live in a cottage not too far from the centre of the village. Mister Buxton, Bess' father, has been unwell for some time and we went to check on him. While there, I am afraid I got a little lost in my own thoughts as I looked out of the window over the usually quiet lane that goes past the home. It was there that I saw him for the first time. He was stood there in the field across the way, looking at the cottage and just..........smiling. It was if he knew I were there, as if he could see me despite the window only being a small thing. I must confess that the whole thing gave me quite the most atrocious feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sense of knowing him, but not knowing him.............."

"And what did this man look like.............?" Sherlock finally interrupted. The consulting detective closing his eyes and bringing his interlaced fingers up to his lips, as if deep in thought.

"Well.............I would say that he is shorter than you; closer to the doctors height I believe. He wasn't old; his hair was dark and well kept. And even though he was dressed as though he had just been working on one of the surrounding farms, I have seen enough real working men to know that that man had never done a day's work in the fields, in his life; his skin was far to pale and unwrinkled to have ever spent any real time in the sun................."

"And this sense of familiarity...............?"

"As I said, it was a feeling of knowing him, but not knowing him. The way that he looked at me in the market............it sent a cold shiver down my spine.............."

"Tell me about what happened to you in Europe..............."

"I would really rather not, Mister Holmes...................."

"Well, I would really rather you did................" Sherlock insisted, as his eyes flew open and stared at the now rather uncomfortable looking lady.

"Does it have anything to do with this man.................?"

"It could; but I will not know until you tell me.............."

"Fine!" (Y/n) replied, as she got to her feet once more, and began to pace the room; not liking the fact that she had to relive that awful episode of her life, when she was doing all she could to forget about it.

"I was in Switzerland for my schooling, and instead of coming back to England during the holidays as I normally would, I decided to journey to see some friends in Paris. It was really a spur of the moment thing; I didn't even send my friends a letter to tell them I was coming. I just packed a bag and got a carriage to take me to the train station. The journey had been quiet on the whole, and I didn't think anything of it. I couldn't say that I felt as though I were being watched or followed..............but, well...........once we had made our way into France, a conductor came into my carriage. He seemed pleasant enough I suppose, and we did exchange a few words, which was slightly unusual, though I thought nothing of it until I began to feel suddenly very tired; unable to keep my eyes open. The image of him the last that I could recall before everything went black. After that..............I am afraid my recollections are a little sparse as I believe that I was being drugged. When I did wake, I felt dizzy, sick. I was blindfolded, bound and gagged for the majority of the time that I was awake. Though sometimes, someone.........a man, would come into wherever I was being held, and he gave me something to eat. I tried to ask him questions; to enquire as to where I was, why I had been taken, but all he would say was that I would be returned to my father when the ransom had been paid. That I had been watched for some time and they had been waiting for their moment; and my foolish decision to not come home, had given them just that................."

"Was the conductor the same man that you saw today...............?"

"No, they were nothing alike. I gave a description of that man to the Paris police when I was finally released; a tall, rather stiff, formal looking man, with a moustache and strawberry blonde, or pale auburn hair; but they never found anyone. And he was not the man that had come into my room, either..........."

"How do you know that if you were blindfolded...............?"

"The way they spoke...........their voices, the lilt was so very different. The conductor.........he was more English. He was speaking French, but I knew that the accent wasn't right. And the other, he always spoke English, yet there was something more to it. A hint of..........I want to say Irish, but I am not sure. Though there is something else............" The lady explained, as she stopped her pacing and looked to Sherlock.

"What...................?"

"Something that I have never told anyone. Not my father, not the police, though perhaps I should have done; I have never even told Bess. I have tried to put it to the back of my mind. To forget it..........but now..............the man that would feed me, he...........he would touch my hands; he would caress my cheek. His hands weren't rough as I had expected, they were soft as you would expect of a gentleman. He would tell me that I was beautiful. That even though he knew my father would pay the money and he would have to return me, he would always be with me; and one way or another, he would get me back." The lady told him. Her brows furrowing as Sherlock got to his feet and made his way to the pull cord and called for a servant.

"Thank you, my lady. You have told me everything I need........for the moment. Now, I believe that you might need some tea............" Sherlock replied, as a knock came to the room and Willum, the butler, entered the room.

"Sir........my lady..........?"

"I would like you to inform Miss Bess that Lady Royston is in need of some tea. And could you tell Doctor Watson that I will be waiting for him in the garden..........." Sherlock stated, Willum bowing before leaving the pair once more. Sherlock moving over to (Y/n) and taking her hand and escorting her to a chair.

"You have my assurance that I will do all I can to protect you from the man that you saw today..........and from Joshua Caine. I will be speaking to your father about his so called head of security, and despite your dislike of all the guards around the home, I will be insisting that Detective Inspector Lestrade and men from Scotland Yard come up and take over the security for your celebration." Sherlock told her; the door suddenly opening and Bess making her way into the room.

"If you will excuse me................." The younger Holmes simply added, before leaving the two women. The detective needing some fresh air, and to ask John if Bess had told him anything about the day.