A/N- Quite long and a bit of a set up chapter, tried to make more sense of the story...
Please let me know if something doesn't make sense and do comment any questions, I will almost always answer... enjoy ;)
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Darcy's POV
"Darcy, what's wrong?" It was Sherlock. He was knocking on the door and asking me what was wrong. "Please let me in." He almost pleaded with me.
I lifted my head and stared at the wall opposite. "Go away." I said quietly and leant more against the door.
"Are you hurt?" Sherlock asked through the door, obviously given up trying to get me to let him in his bedroom.
"No." I answered and put my head back on the door.
I heard him sigh and shuffle slightly, he was sitting down. "I can sit out here all night, you know I can, and you'll have to leave at some point."
Knowing he was right, I sat forward and opened the door slightly. Seconds later, Sherlock's head popped through the gap and he scrambled into the room. He closed the door behind him and sat next to me.
Instead of asking me again what was wrong he simply raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Do you ever feel that there's too much going on..." I raised a shaky hand to my head. "...up there?"
"All the time." Sherlock answered pointedly and smirked.
I nodded and stretched my legs out in front of me. "I figured as much."
Instead of saying anything, we both sat in silence as neither of us knew what to say. Sherlock for obvious reasons was struggling to comprehend emotions and I was too overcome with them to figure out what to say.
"Emotionally unstable." Sherlock stated out of the blue and I frowned up at him. "It's what you're going through and I would like to know why."
I smirked and fixed my gaze at the wall again. "Is that your way of asking me what's going on in my life?"
Sherlock contemplated his answer before smiling slightly. "Yes, I suppose. So, what's, you know, urm-going on?"
"Not much." I shrugged and chuckled under my breath when he glared at me. "I'm confused, that's all. I've never been confused before." I mused to myself and sat back against the door.
"What are you confused about?" Sherlock asked and slouched so he was more at level with me.
I looked at him sceptically from the corner of my eye and he gave me a reassuring look. "Feelings I guess. What I'm feeling. About everything that's happened since I was kidnapped, I don't know why I'm just..." I trailed off and frowned, pulling my legs up to my chest.
"You feel like your body is betraying you. You've spent most of your life blocking out feelings and such, now that you've been affected by something traumatic you've let your guard down." Sherlock stated and pulled his own legs up to mimic me.
After that I said nothing more since he was right, I knew he was. I had let my guard down, by letting Scott in and being emotionally affected by what Irene had done to me.
"Conditioning. Negative reinforcement. By torturing you she forced you to act the way you do." Sherlock stated and sat up straighter again.
My expression softened and I felt the phantom pain of the electric jolts going through my body. "Even when I did as she told me I was still hurt. Every other night or so I'd spend in the basement. It was dark and surprisingly warm from all the damp down there." I finally admitted.
"John worries about you. Worries that you're going to close in on yourself and become, well, like me." He told me and I frowned, holding my legs tighter as my chest swelled up with emotions. "How close were you to him? Moriarty, I mean."
I shrugged and brushed away a stray single tear. "Not very. He took me from here, told me about my parents and what he did to them. Then there was the pool incident and he took me to Irene's where he left me. I saw him again at the Hotel, I used his influence to protect myself and that was probably my biggest mistake."
"Protect yourself?" Sherlock asked, a trace of worry laced in his voice as he spoke and he turned slightly to face me.
I smirked to myself as I recalled what happened. "I may have had to defend myself quite violently when someone got a bit too close for comfort. They seemed rather threatening and so I cowered behind Moriarty for protection."
"You were alright though?" He interrogated and appeared worried slightly with the scenario.
I nodded and smiled a little. "Yeah, I was fine. But the other guy..." I let out a chuckle as I remembered the large plaster on the side of Scott's head. "... not so much."
As Sherlock laughed and put his head back on the door. I fiddled with the hem of my dress and said quietly, "Sherlock?" He hummed in reply and so I continued. "Moriarty left me at St Bartholomew's when I was three not one. He looked after me for two years himself, I'm assuming."
Sherlock didn't speak, he sat and if the expression on his face was anything to go by he was in shock. Pure and simple. "Why?" He said in a hushed tone after a while and he seemed to be talking to himself. "Why would he do that, it's not in his nature?"
"He was close to my parents, I'm guessing that had something to do with it. Spur of the moment thing, maybe?" I suggested and thought back on his fondness of me back at the Hotel.
Sherlock pulled his lips together in thought. "I don't know, possibly. It still doesn't fit, though."
"He hasn't gotten in touch with me, nor has Miss Adler, so I can't be that much of an asset." I reassured him and he ran a hand over his chin.
"No. That's true." He agreed. "I suppose you're curious as to why we were at Irene Adler's house and what photographs we were looking for." As soon as he said that I nodded furiously and sat up straight. "She had pictures of a potentially criminal nature of her and a female member of the royal family."
I raised my eyebrows, shocked, and sighed. "Wow, so she was going to blackmail the royal family?"
"Not exactly, she needed the photos for insurance or protection of some kind." He clarified and I nodded in understanding. "Are we all cleared up now? There's nothing else you want to admit while I'm actually listening?
I shook my head. "We're good. There's nothing else I want to add." After I'd agreed he could go, Sherlock stood sharply and went to open the door but found I was blocking him from doing so. "Thank you, Sherlock." I said somewhat quietly.
In reply Sherlock merely mumbled something under his breath and I moved so he could open the door. Despite his abrupt exit after that heart to heart chat, I smiled widely and scrambled to stand.
I took a deep breath and sat down on Sherlock's bed. Feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders, I laid back and covered my face with my hands.
Sherlock didn't need to sleep tonight right? I told myself and curled up on one side of the bed. Exhausted from being 'emotionally unstable', I yawned and closed my eyes. I fell asleep with my clothes on, again.
Well, I suppose there was always tomorrow to actually do things properly.
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A week had gone by and not a lot had happened, I'd mainly just sat around in some joggers and one of John's old t-shirts. Occasionally, I'd helped on cases but mainly just the little ones like a lost dog or small robberies.
I couldn't bring myself to leave the flat for any murder cases. I didn't think I could cope with all the people at a crime scene, especially seeing Lestrade again and then Molly. I didn't want to be out and about either, just in case.
Moriarty had people everywhere, and you never knew. Since learning that he'd cared for me for two years of my infant life I started to wonder if maybe he did actually care and care so much that he would come back to find me.
But he knew where I was. He could have come and taken me away again, but he hadn't. So, maybe he didn't care that much.
Perhaps he was being pragmatic. Thought he could make a weapon out of me when I was younger but then for some reason couldn't, so sent me away. Then when I got mixed up with Sherlock, he saw another opportunity to make me into a weapon for his use and also as part of the game.
It made very little sense to me.
Scott had definitely made sure to keep in touch with me while he was away. There was no doubt about that. I'd received a phone call every day at five o'clock and around 100 texts that week.
I never answered the calls or replied to the texts. The messages were all random things about his day but there were a couple that stood out.
Scott- We've arrived safely. I'll call you later, please pick up. X
He did call, about an hour after he sent that text. One that I didn't reply to nor did I answer his call.
Scott- Or not. I guess you're still angry with me. Again, I'm sorry. X
Scott text me goodnight every night as well but with the time difference it was always an hour before I actually went to bed myself. So I always saw it.
Two days into his constant commentary of his holiday, and two days of me ignoring him, he started to send more random messages.
Scott- I think you'd like Austria, the countryside is beautiful. Remind me to bring you here one day. X
Scott- Mum and Vicky have gone skiing. Dad has gone off someplace. I haven't left the lodge for the past three days. I thought about it yesterday, thought about going for a walk in the hills, but decided to read instead. X
That single text had almost warranted a reply, he was isolating himself and reading. He didn't seem the type to choose to sit and read when he could be doing literally anything else.
Vicky was his sister, Victoria. She was younger than him by a couple of years and very much a spoiled little princess, from what I'd gathered from his texts about their first day there and how she'd gotten stroppy about the size of her room.
I was ignoring him for the simple fact of not wanting to get too attached. Caring was a disadvantage after all and in distancing myself I wouldn't experience that overflow of emotions again.
It had just turned five o'clock exactly a week after he'd left and I was expecting a phone call anytime soon. Sherlock and John had noticed the pattern, both of them had learnt to expect it as well.
Scott never left a voicemail, just sent me a text straight after. I was reading one of Sherlock's forensic books and glancing at my phone, waiting for it to ring.
It did. And his contact came up on the screen, his name that was all. I let it ring out and after four or so rings he stopped trying to get through. As expected my phone trilled and the message appeared.
Scott- And here I was hoping that after a week you'd see sense. I keep in touch, hoping for something in return. Now, I'm starting to fear the worst. Nothing, not one message to let me at least know you're okay. I've holed myself up in my room or the living room, I don't speak to anyone just stare at my phone, waiting. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? X
I considered a reply, I didn't want him worrying too much. I'd dropped my book in my lap and held my phone delicately in my hand, while Sherlock and John waited to see what I was going to do.
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Scott's POV
Nothing. She hadn't replied for a week, all the messages I'd sent and the phone calls everyday.
At first I had just been trying to win her over after I'd been an idiot and went too quickly. I should have learnt from the day we met. But now I was genuinely worried about her safety.
After everything she'd told me about Moriarty not being her real Father, which wasn't that much of a surprise, and her real parents being killed by him. It was awful, what she'd been through.
It wouldn't surprise me if she'd been kidnapped again and possibly killed. The people my Father dealt with were like that.
After calling her and her not picking up, again, I'd poured my heart out to her and as of yet she hadn't replied. I was sat in the living room of the lodge, staring out the large window at the snowy mountain where my Mum and Vicky were no doubt still skiing.
Nobody had passed through here for a couple of hours and I didn't mind that, it meant I didn't have to talk to anyone.
I'd never felt this way about anyone before, ever. I'd had plenty of relationships and all of them had ended badly, which was mostly my fault. I either cheated or got bored and broke up with them. Most were just after my family's money, though.
But Darcy wasn't, I could tell. She was different. A good different.
I sat back in my chair and pulled my tie looser around my neck, taking a drink from my glass. I'd given up on getting a reply and put my phone on the small table beside me. Exasperated, I rubbed my eyes and sighed.
That's when it happened. Something I hadn't expected. My phone on the table trilled. I'd actually gotten a notification on my phone. Slowly, in disbelief, I picked it up and saw a message.
A smile appeared on my face when I read who it was from.
Just Darcy- At least 200 times, I think, then I'll consider forgiving you. X
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Darcy's POV
After I'd replied he flooded me with a flurry of texts, hoping I'd say more but all I wanted was for him to stop worrying. But I didn't want to risk getting drawn back in.
A couple of days later, Mrs Hudson had encouraged me to help her in decorating the flat for Christmas. Which I did, despite knowing Sherlock wouldn't be best pleased and that I didn't really want to either.
She'd got me stood up on a chair as I pinned some trimmings to the ceiling. Every ten minutes or so as we decorated, my phone went off and Mrs Hudson would give me a look.
"You're very quiet, dear." Mrs Hudson stated as she held onto the back of my chair. I nodded and hummed in reply, pinning the end of a chain into the ceiling. "If you ever want to talk to anyone, you know where to find me."
Again, I nodded and stepped down from the chair with a smile on my face. "Thank you, but I'm alright, really."
She took my hand and squeezed it tight. "Alright, dear." I could only assume that Sherlock had told her the basics of what had happened. "Well, I think this place looks lovely."
We'd strewn some lights and tinsel about the fireplace, and thankfully didn't put up a Christmas tree. I immediately sat in John's armchair and pulled my legs up in front of my chest, when she signalled that we'd finished.
"I'll make us a cup of tea." Mrs Hudson said and hurried into the kitchen.
My phone lit up beside me and I glanced at it to see a new message along with all of the others.
Scott- Another day of silence it is, then. I went for a walk into town today, did some Christmas shopping with Mum and Vicky which was a nightmare. I'll call you later, as usual. X
I sighed and put my phone on the coffee table as Mrs Hudson appeared with the tea. She put the tray down and sat on the sofa. "Your phone's been going off none stop, today. So, who is he?"
"Who's who?" I asked with a frown as I sat forward and started to make a cup of tea.
Mrs Hudson raised her eyebrows at me and sat forward herself. "I may be a bit ditsy but I'm not blind nor am I stupid. Who's the boy who won't leave you be?"
"Nobody." I said quietly and poured the tea.
Before Mrs Hudson could press me for a proper answer the door to the flat was flung open. "What the hell have you done?" Sherlock exclaimed and marched into the room.
"We put up decorations." Mrs Hudson answered pointedly and took her cup of tea.
John stood in the middle of the room and looked around, in awe. "It looks lovely."
Sherlock harrumphed and forcefully took his scarf off before dropping down into his chair. "It's awful, take them down."
"No." I said forcefully. "We've worked all morning on this, I won't let you take them down."
Sherlock just stood up sharply and marched into his bedroom. I smirked and looked up at John, "Tea?"
He smiled and sat in Sherlock's chair. "Please." I poured him a cup and passed it to him. "So, you seem to feel better. Anything happen while we were out?"
"No, we just put up the decorations." I shrugged but kept smiling as I drank my tea.
"Right." He said with a smirk on his face. Him and Mrs Hudson shared a look, to which I shook my head.
I finished my tea and put the cup back down. "So, John, how's your, urm, girlfriend... Sarah?"
"Jeanette." He corrected me and I shrugged. "She's fine, great. I'm inviting her over for the Christmas get together."
I grimaced a smile and sat back in my seat. "Oh, good."
A door slammed and the sound of Sherlock's heavy feet followed. I glanced behind me to see him stood in the doorway to the living room, dressed in his shirt and trousers but with his dressing gown on top.
I stood up almost immediately and put my hands in my pockets. "Feeling better?" John asked him and Sherlock just glared at John, since he was sat in his seat. "Alright, yes, sorry." John huffed and stood up, moving over to his chair.
Instead of finding another seat, however, I just stood rocking back and forth on my heels. Sherlock went back to his seat and sat down. "I will indulge in Christmas if I must, but don't expect me to be nice when everyone's here."
I had forgotten about John and Mrs Hudson's brilliant plan to invite everyone over for Christmas drinks. My plan for that, however, was to stay in Sherlock's room making no noise and pretending that I didn't exist.
The evening before Christmas Eve, they'd planned it for. Since, John was going to Harry's and Lestrade was going to... somewhere with his wife despite the fact that she was having an affair still. Molly was coming over as well, but then she'd go anywhere Sherlock was.
Not that it mattered since I wouldn't be joining them at all.
Everyone looked down at the coffee table as my phone started to ring and the screen lit up. Quickly before anyone saw who it was, I rushed over and pressed the red button to decline the call.
Not wanting their judgement I went straight into Sherlock's room and closed the door behind me. I sat down on the bed and unlocked my phone to see another message had come through.
Scott- Well, you never normally decline my calls. That's just rude ;) X
I had to smile at his use of emoji, is that what it was? He seemed to be making light of the situation, despite me obviously ignoring him, and now taking enjoyment out of pestering me.
Reaching out to the bedside table I grabbed hold of a book I had been reading.
The only thing, supposedly, I had to look forward to was Christmas. So, why did I suddenly feel worse than before?
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Thoughts? So... Christmas is Coming... sorry >-< In the entire episode, that bit gives me the most second hand embarrassment, so that should be fun to write...
It's going to feel so weird writing about Christmas in the summer... well I live in England so is it ever Summer? XD
This hasn't been edited yet... please vote and comment you amazing people, thank you ;)
-HBH xxxx
Disclaimer- I don't own any of the character, except Darcy and Scott, or any lines from the show. Those rights belong to the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.