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Whipped	By : This_is_The_Phantom_Lady Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3753 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This contains major triggers for people with issues with self-harm. I do not own or profit on any official BBC Sherlock characters or any other part of BBC Sherlock.

Chapter List
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In protest I bit my lip to keep myself hushed and allowed her to apply the rest of the mask.
The coolness of it calmed down the stinging of my cheek. Oh it was a relief.

And when she was done she put everything neatly back on the tray. Everything had a place. Even that sense of order soothed me.

“I’ll get you a cup of tea, that should help you sleep. Don’t move too much, the clay needs to dry… it’ll itch if it cracks” she warned me.

Oh, I had tried mud masks before… but I gave her the most careful nod I could manage to let her know I understood and appreciated her help.

She was away for long enough for my mind to start wandering down that dark path again… I gritted my teeth.

I could not cry. Not now. It would show on the drying clay that had started to slightly contract on my face. Tightening my skin as it drew out the oils.

I tried to remind myself that the mask was cleaning my pores; goodness knew how much grime they must have held on to after everything… I felt like the smog and dust of London still clung to me; as if it had become part of me.

I could never forget how black the water had been when Miss A. allowed me my first shower when she picked me up from the alley.

I was never built for the city, was I? I had grown up on the country side… green fields on both sides of the house. When I started attending school in the big city my nose would gather the black pollution like flies on flypaper… every time I took a breath.

The only place I had been able to breathe was when I walked away from my mother’s house, across one of those green fields… atop a hill where I’d sit and hug my knees.
I’d be able to see the sea to one side… more fields to the other… it felt like the green was endless from there.
Oh how I loved that spot… not just for the clean air; but there no one could see me. No one knew to find me there. I was free… for as long as I could stay before a slap awaited me for being disobedient.

I tried hard to imagine I was back on that hill… that the long untouched grass was tickling my bare knees…

Somehow it worked; and I was only pulled back to reality when I heard the door open. Miss A. returning with the tray… this time it held a bowl of water, fresh cloths and a cup of steaming tea.

I smiled at her; and just like she promised the clay cracked. The itch was instant. And persistent.

She chuckled at me

“Told you to sit still” she tutted; obviously knowing from experience.

“Sorry Miss A.”

“So, let’s get this stuff off you. You should be fresh as new now” she sat down on the bed and dipped a cloth in the water. I sat still as a rock as she skilfully unmasked me.

“You’ve got great skin” she commented as she washed off the last of the clay. “you’re quite lucky” she continued the small talk.

“I suppose I am, thank you Miss A.” I replied out of duty rather than a need to converse.

“You’re tired. It’s been quite an eventful day for you” she concluded on my reluctance to speak. I just nodded.

It was an easier answer.

“I forgot to ask how you take your tea… but I hope you don’t mind” she handed me the neat and fragile looking china cup. It reminded me of those my mother kept at the back of her cupboard, that I was positively not to touch.

I took the cup carefully. If my mother would have spanked and slapped me for breaking one, what would Miss A. do to me?

Oh… maybe. Maybe that was my way to get what I needed…

But I dismissed it and blew air on the hot liquid. The tea rippled in front of me.
I took a careful sip. It was Earl Grey, just a splash of lemon… and some strange aftertaste. Maybe it was the brand. Maybe I wasn’t used to the upmarket brands I would assume she was using…

“It’s good for you” she coaxed me to drink more. And I did.

But no sooner than I had finished the cup did I feel numb. My eyelids felt immensely heavy.

Perhaps it wasn’t the brand after all…

…

My mouth was dry as a desert when I could open my eyes again. The room was semi dark and it took my brain a while to remember where I was.

I wanted to get out of bed and look for a glass of water to moisten my mouth. My tongue felt like it had actual cracks in it’s surface; and the sparse saliva I could produce only made it sting.

My leg wouldn’t move. Nor would the other one… my eyes finally got used to the poor lighting and I could see that my legs had been shackled to the bed.

I sat up, wanting to stretch. I couldn’t pull my hands apart; no matter how hard or desperately I tried. I then found my thumbs had been taped together; my hands left on my stomach in a praying position.

I heaved an annoyed sigh.

How could she know?

“I’m not happy, Mira” a cold voice came from the dark corner of the room.
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