It had been a very cold December. Snow had fallen and had covered every surface in a thick blanket of white.

The young man held the heavy curtain aside with the back of his hand; looking out at the world; what of it his own eyes let him see. His upper lip raised in a snarl of annoyance.

The snow meant he was stuck. Stuck in his dorm room of the boarding school he was attending while his parents; and his older brother, were busy with their lives. He was being stored there; and he knew it all too well.

Everyone had gone home, or somewhere to be with their relatives for Christmas before the snow got too bad. Everyone but him.

He figured he'd be fine; though. He had quite a few books and he was working on a few experiments he would have been sad to leave unattended over the holidays anyhow… and if it all got too boring he had something to alleviate that too.

This was okay. At least that was what he had managed to convince himself of.

So why didn't it feel right?

Something caught his eyes however; and distracted his thoughts. Fresh Footsteps in the snow.

He glared at them.

They were leading towards the building. The person had been limping. No one at the school had a limp that bad. Especially no one who would be around now.

It was hard to tell from that distance but it could be spots of blood as well.

The feet that had left them behind seemed small. Not a man's then. Clearly none of the small boys were in the same situation as him.

A woman then. Quite possibly.

He drew a sigh. A bleeding woman; seeking refuge?

Curiosity got the better of him; and he didn't have much better to do than to investigate further.

So he darted out of his room, through the hall, down the stairs and all the way to the front door.

The wind was viciously biting at him the minute he opened it and he instantly regretted not having thought far enough to grab his coat.

He set his shoulders and braved the icy wind. Seeing the footprints up close it confirmed everything he had already gathered. And it was indeed red spots of blood.

So far so good. But where was the woman then? The footprints were new. They hadn't yet been consumed by the still falling snow.

He stood for a while judging the trajectory however jumbled. She had clearly moved towards the building. But he had not seen any blood stains inside. He would have noticed.

He looked to the front of the building, scanning it. She could not have vanished. She obviously hadn't flown away… and considering how badly she had been limping and stumbling jumping was out of the question.

And then he saw her. Under an arch sat a figure leaning against the wall. She was shivering violently and fresh blood was running from her nose.

She struggled to keep her eyes open and her cheeks seemed to be swollen.

Looking closer at her she seemed to be around 14 or 15 years of age but with her face in that state it was hard to tell. Just a couple of years younger than himself.

Her blue dress was torn and it was all she was wearing. And safe for the red blood colouring her, she was slowly turning cyanotic.

He approached her carefully; trying to figure out what to say to her.

"Are you okay?" the obvious choice. The stupid choice. No, she obviously wasn't.

She cowered hearing his voice; trying to scramble on her feet but her body wasn't cooperating with her.

"Hey. What happened to you?" He did all he could to soften his demeanour.

She was still shying away from him. Her body seemed to react on it's own accord. Her fear response was in control. He got no verbal responses from her other than hysteric breathing.

"Listen, you can't stay out here like that. You'll freeze to death" he spoke softly. He estimated within the next fifteen minutes she would have fainted; and that would have been fatal with these temperatures.

She grabbed at the wall, trying to claw her way away from him.

It reminded him more of the behaviour of a wounded animal than a human being.

She had been reduced to her instincts; however wrong they were.

"I mean it, you can't" he raised his brow. The cold air was doing its own work on him. He could barely imagine what it had done to her by now.

He looked around. There were no one to see, there was no one to help. He was her last hope. He had his chance to save her or walk away and let nature run it's course.

Oh hell.

He put his hand on her shoulder and she produced an ear-piercing scream. But he didn't move his hand. He let her scream it out.

"I'm going to lift you. You have to get inside" he informed her; barely finishing his sentence before he scooped her up in his arms. She was kicking, flailing and screaming but he held on to her; and he didn't let go of her before he carried her all the way up the stairs, down the hall and into his room and laid her on his bed.

On the way she had managed to bite into his shoulder; but he had bit back on the pain.

He couldn't get through to her consciousness and her hypothalamus was controlling her responses. It had chosen to fight now when flight proved impossible.

Despite her writhing he managed to wrap his blanket around her. After a few minutes of futile struggling against the blanket she somehow seemed to relax. He had wrapped it so tightly around her she couldn't move.

He went to turn the heating up further, but he never took her eyes off of her. He realized he needed to stop her bleeding somehow.

Not wanting to leave her alone so soon he grabbed one of his shirts and walked back to her.

"I'm sorry. This hurts, I know. But it's necessary" he said as he kneeled before her. He put the shirt towards her nose and pinched her nostrils. She made garbled noises of complaints; but she couldn't fight him.

The red blood soaked through the clean white fabric; staining it forever.

But eventually that did stop as well.

He realized she was staring at her. Her eyes were full of questions now that she was slowly becoming herself; waking up.

He removed the destroyed shirt. The bleeding had slowed now. If only she stayed still a while longer it would stop completely.

Her cracked lips moved but produced no words. Not even a sound.

He put his hand to her neck trying to find her pulse. He bit his lip. Considering how difficult it would be getting an ambulance out there she was better off staying warm.

He had found her in time.

Her wounds would heal in time… she had not lost enough blood for it to be lethal; according to his estimate.

He took a clean shirt and dipped it in the glass of water he had standing on his night stand and cleaned her face as carefully as he could. She winched in pain; but she was stoic. It almost seemed like her body had given up the fight.

"What is your name?" he blinked as he dapped the cloth under her chin and down her neck; wiping away the drying blood. The silence accompanied with the intimacy of the moment was becoming somehow awkward for him.

Her lips moved again. And after too long she managed to form a word.

"Loser" she croaked.

Oh. That was a bit rude, wasn't it? He had just saved her!

"Loser" she repeated, this time forcing a bit more of her voice through. She seemed to assume he hadn't heard or understood her the first time.

"Excuse me?" the brim of his nose crinkled in disgust. It was not exactly one of his favourite words… he had heard it once too often.

"Loser Lucy" her voice was failing again; having been strained enough from the screaming.

His jaw seemed to literally fall off it's hinges. Oh he had heard that name before as well. And slowly her face started to seem slightly familiar under all the swelling and the blood he was removing.

"Lucy?" he questioned. He dipped the shirt in the water again and wiped it over her lips. "I'm Sherlock" he let her know.

"Who did this to you?" he wiped her tangled hair out of her face to get better access to cleaning her up.

"Mummy…" she mumbled.

"You want your mother?" he asked. Her pupils dilated in shock. "She's not here, Lucy"

"No mummy" she whimpered. She rolled her shoulders; trying to escape the blanket that was ensnaring her.

"Did… did you mother do this?" He froze; holding the cloth against the side of her face.

"I'm sorry mummy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" she looked past him; at someone who wasn't there. her eyes were welling up with tears. Tears that stung her angrily red cheeks.

"Lucy?" He shook her carefully. Her consciousness was slipping. Her eyes closed.

Using his fingers again he tested her pulse and with the back of his hand he felt for her breath. She had simply fainted.

Now not having to worry about her reactions he finished cleaning her face. He loosened the blanket and followed the bloody trail from her neck and lower.

His cheeks flushed. Maybe he should just leave it…

Her chest was rising and falling steadily. She seemed strangely peaceful; compared to before.

He decided not to clean further than the top of her dress before he wrapped the blanket around her again.

Not knowing what to do next he sat on the floor and watched her. Watching her chest move; watching her breathe…

His shoulder ached but he barely noticed it.

So. Her mother did that? He couldn't even imagine his own mother doing that. Okay… a slap once or twice; but that had been justified.

This. This lacked logic.