Abigail looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a white dress that was short in the front and long in the back with a pair of brown high heal boots. She was wearing eyeshadow, which was the first bit of make up she ever willingly wore. She smiled, she thought she looked pretty.
Martin had texted her to tell her which restaurant they were going to meet at, then they were going to walk back to Abigail's and see what happened with the night from there. Abigail smirked, thinking of Sherlock's reaction the next day when she told him about her amazing night.
Abigail decided that her look was perfect and went off to catch a taxi. It was 7:40. She had 20 minutes.
She couldn't sit still. She was so excited for the date. This was the first time in a while that she was going on a date. Granted, it wasn't with the guy she thought it would be with. But she was happy it was someone who actually cared about her, unlike Sherlock.
Abigail found her mind wondering back to Sherlock and earlier. She remembered Sherlock saying this date was a bad idea. He was jealous, she decided. Although she couldn't see why. He was the one that had put her in the friendzone.
Martin was waiting for Abigail outside. He smiled widely when he seen the cab pull up. Like a gentleman, he rushed to hold the door open for Abigail.
"Hello," he said. "You look wonderful this evening."
"As do you," Abigail said with a smile. "Shall we go in?"
"Oh, of course. Yes. Let's go."
*~*~*
Meanwhile, back at 221b, the consulting detective sat staring at the wall. He didn't know what to do. He should've been focusing on the case he was given a mere 8 hours ago, but instead he was thinking of Abigail.
He was jealous, Sherlock would admit that. But he wasn't trying to stop Abigail from going on her date because he was jealous. He knew something was going to happen. Martin seemed like a nice enough guy, but Sherlock deduced that he had a dark past. One that would catch up with him tonight.
He should've stopped her from going. He should've talked her out of it, proved that he wasn't just jealous. But he just let her go without stopping. He returned back to his apartment and tried to focus on the case, but his mind kept wandering to Abigail.
Finally, he decided to send Abigail a quick text.
'Everything alright?
-S.H'
*~*~*
Abigail was having a great time. She and Martin were seated right away. The two ordered some wine to start their evening off. They talked and laughed while they waited for their food.
"So, what is it you do again?" Martin asked.
"I'm something of a consulting detective. Easy explanation is that I'm a detective that the police consult when they need help. Well, not just me. Also my...colleague that you met earlier today."
She couldn't believe it. The evening was going so well and now Sherlock had managed to creep back into Abigail's mind once again.
Martin took a sip from his wine, clearly ignoring Abigail's hesitation and sudden quietness.
"Right. That piece of work from Speedy's," he scoffed. Abigail sent a glare at him. "What?"
"He may be a piece of work but I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about him like that," Abigail retorted. Martin shrugged and took another sip of his wine.
It was silent then. They received their food and ate in silence. Abigail felt bad for snapping at Martin, but he shouldn't be talking about Sherlock like that. He didn't even know Sherlock like she did.
When the food was eaten and the bill was paid, Abigail and Martin began walking home. It was about 9:10. The streets were dark, the only light was the crescent moon and the street lamps. The cold nipped at Abigail's cheeks. She shoved her hands in her pocket for warmth.
"I'm sorry about earlier," she said to Martin. "I shouldn't've snapped."
"No, it's fine. I shouldn't've said what I said," Martin said, waving off her apology. "Takes two to tango I suppose."
Abigail giggled. As the two continued to walk and talk again, Abigail noticed a crew of shady characters following them. She decided to shrug it off.
*~*~*
Sherlock played a melody on his violin. It was something he composed. He heard it in his head every time he was around Abigail and he wanted to figure it out. To play it for her the next time he seen her, almost like his apology.
Mrs. Hudson silently entered the living room with a tray of tea. She listened to Sherlock playing. She loved it when he played.
"Did you compose that?" she asked once he finished.
"Yes," Sherlock replied. "I felt inspired."
"By Abigail no doubt." Sherlock shot a look at Mrs. Hudson. She smiled. "Come on now, Sherlock. I may be old, but I'm not clueless. I see how you are around her. How you look at her, how you talk to her, how you treat her. You like her. Where is she anyways."
Sherlock sighed and turned back to look out the window.
"Date," he replied as he began playing the violin again.
"Oh," Mrs. Hudson said. "Well, I think I'd better get going."
"Good idea," Sherlock muttered.
Mrs. Hudson nodded. She began to walk out the door, but stopped to add, "If you really do love her, Sherlock, you'll fight for her."
*~*~*
Abigail found herself walking towards Baker Street. She wished she didn't have to pass that street to get to her flat. She wished she could've gone some other route, but this was the fastest way to go if you were walking.
Abigail could still see the shady bunch following them. She kept close to Martin to keep herself safe. Sherlock's warning played over and over in her mind.
"Everything alright?" Martin asked as he noticed Abigail looking over her shoulder again.
"Hm?" Abigail responded. "Oh, yes. Sorry, I thought I saw something."
Martin looked over his shoulder. Abigail swore his face went pale.
"Um, let's call a cab, yeah?" he suggested. He stopped and waved to signal a taxi. None were nearby.
"Martin, what's wrong?" Abigail asked.
"It's nothing. I'm just a bit cold. Where are the damn taxis?"
Abigail looked over her shoulder. The shady bunch were getting closer. She noticed an alleyway behind them. She quickly took her phone out of her pocket and texted the first person that came to mind. The person who was closest and who predicted this would happen.
'Alleyway not too far from Baker's Street. HELP!
-A.W'
*~*~*
Mrs. Hudson's words still hung in Sherlock's mind as he replayed his melody for Abigail over and over. He didn't have it written down yet. He was playing it off by heart. It was a familiar melody even though it hadn't been composed till that night. He appropriately (and cheesely) named it "Abigail's Song".
As he played, Sherlock's phone vibrated. He stopped for a moment, realizing the only person who'd ever text him was Abigail. He didn't hesitate to check it.
'Alleyway not too far from Baker's Street. HELP!
-A.W'
This caused him to spring into action. His violin was laid on the couch and he had his coat and scarf on in a matter of seconds. He banged down the stairs in a hurry, ignoring all questions from Mrs. Hudson.
A cab was not needed. He could walk. She wasn't far away. He needed to get there quickly. Sherlock took off down the sidewalk, his mind only set on Abigail.
*~*~*
"Hello Martin," one of the shady characters sneered. "How are you?"
All color in Martin's face had disappeared. He almost looked a sickening gray color. Abigail was too afraid to turn around. She was picturing what she was going to see and she was too afraid to learn whether or not she was right.
Martin turned slowly and gave a fake smile to the gang.
"Doug! How are you?" he asked, trying to sound pleasant. "Crazy running into you. How long has it been?"
"5 months," the man, Doug, sneered.
"Who's this with you, Martin?" another of the gang asked. Abigail squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the warmth of the man's breath on her neck. She refused to turn around. She refused to give them the satisfaction of fear.
"Just a girl I met today," Martin replied.
"She looks pretty," the second man stated. "Hello pretty lady. What are you doing out with a man like Martin?"
The gang laughed as Abigail continued staring at the road. She finally turned when she felt one of the gang members squeeze her bum. She swung around and slapped him square in the face. This is when she finally got a look at the shady bunch.
There were four of them. 3 were muscular, 1 was just fat. Each of them had a little bit of stubble, the one she slapped even had a beard. They all wore black. Black trousers, black shirts, black shoes. The basic look of someone people stayed away from. Abigail wish she could stay away from them.
The man she slapped was fuming. He moved to hit her back, but one of the others stopped him. Abigail tried not to show any fear.
"Shouldn't have done that pretty lady," one of the men, Abigail identified him as Doug. "You see, Ralph here has a short temper and when there's no witnesses, no telling what he'd do."
Abigail's blood ran cold as she felt the two other goons grab her. Martin argued, trying to get them to let her go. They dragged her into the alley and Ralph swung.
They restrained her, laughing at every blow Ralph had. Abigail screamed in pain as his fist collided with her nose, causing it to bleed.
One of the shady characters covered her mouth to muffle her cries as she was beaten. Doug was now restraining Martin and making him watch the whole show. Martin fought to help Abigail, but Doug was much bigger and much stronger than he was.
Abigail was in so much pain. She felt blood running from her nose down onto the man's hand. They all just laughed.
Suddenly, Abigail dropped to the ground. She couldn't see much, but she could hear the sound of fists colliding with skin and the sound of footsteps running off down the street. The person knelt next to her. They rolled her onto her back so they could see her face.
"Are you alright?"
Abigail choked out a sob. "Sherlock."
"It's me, Abby," Sherlock whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."
"You came just in time," Abigail told him, her voice hoarse.
Sherlock picked Abigail up bridal style. He held her close and began to walk back to 221b. Martin followed.
"No," Sherlock hissed. "You stay here. You're the one that got her into this."
"It wasn't my fault," Martin snapped back.
"Unless you want to join your little friends, I'd suggest you leave. Now."
Martin glared at Sherlock then looked down at Abigail in his arms. She looked back at him through the eye that wasn't swollen. Martin scoffed.
"No girl is worth this."
Abigail mustered up enough energy to say, "You're not worth it either."