A Woman Should Be Strong but…

by Rondabunny

He was at the place, at a small former factory which was now used by a radical Muslim group. He knew that she won't last long after the "Coventry". He didn't predict that she might go as far as Karachi to hide from her followers or killers as she used to call them. Sherlock was the person who destroyed her or maybe Moriarty's brilliant plan but he felt responsible for this female criminal or the Woman as he referred to her. She was smart and creative, sometimes fierce and he couldn't say that she was beautiful, no, maybe pretty but that word also didn't define her features. She knew how to present herself she had a style and for a period of time was a puzzle for him. Now the man was standing at the door of the hornet's nest. The guard at the door was already neutralized. Sherlock stepped inside.

Narrow corridor and a door, sudden punch and it flew open, one more hit and the guard is disarmed, another punch in the face disorients him and with the third he lies unconscious on the floor. In the tool shop everything was fast and precise. One dropped on the floor cut by a shuriken, another was suffocated by a string. Sherlock Holmes made sure that all criminals were left unconscious or wounded not really serious in order to recover after his sudden intrusion. Little by little the detective came closer to his goal. Behind that dirty, rusty door they hid a real target he searched for. The sound going from another room amused him. Were that smirks and male moans or the determination to get to the cell without any harm confused his mind. Sherlock opened the door. Two men were standing naked hooting at the scene that unfolded in their presence. The woman was sandwiched between two men on a trestle-bed. One was under her and the other sodomized her leaning his body weight on her and slapping her buttocks in the process. She couldn't move. Hands were tied with a rope behind her back. The man under was holding her body tightly to his chest moving inside her. Her face was buried in his shoulder. The woman seemed to be unconscious.

Even now Sherlock couldn't have been able to define the feeling he had at that very moment seeing Irene Adler was raped by two filthy men at the same time. The solution came so quick that nobody noticed in how many seconds all of the men in the cell were lying on the floor dead. Sherlock Holmes didn't see blood of two men splashing on the floor with their brain matter. The bullet pierced through buggers chin inside his grey matter and stuck into the ceiling. The man under tried to push female body away, though, his movements were too slow. The only thing Sherlock was pity about that his blood colored her bruised and tired face. Everyone was dead and he didn't give a damn about it. The reality narrowed to one important thing. There was nothing except her, the woman. When the rapist pushed her she hit the wall and groaned. That shocked the detective even more. All the while she was conscious, she felt everything. The man closed his eyes for the moment just to postpone for some time looking into her clear steel eyes. She wasn't crying he noticed. The gaze was rational, controlled and even daring. Only the body betrayed her. She was shivering.

"Mr. Holmes," she pronounced in a whisper recognizing him. Irene whispered not to make her pain and fear come undone. They weren't safe yet. She didn't have a luxury to act weak if she pronounced it with her voice the detective would understand it immediately. She had to be strong.

In silence, in one movement Sherlock took off the thawb and remained in trousers and a T-shirt. Extremely gently he cut the ropes and wrapped her fragile form in the thawb. Touching her surprised him. She was sticky of sweat, blood and sperm which covered her body.

"I can go," she stopped him when he made a gesture to take her in his arms.

The man shook his head: "It will slow us down. Here, take this." He put a loaded gun in her trembling hands and took her in his arms.

They reached the car leaving three men down behind. As gently as he could Sherlock put the woman at the back seat and closed the door. He felt blood that soaked the garment she was covered in. The brilliant plan went to hell. The detective couldn't bring her to the hotel in this condition it would definitely raise suspicion. He couldn't take her to hospital either because the staff would immediately tell the police and she would be executed even earlier her bruises would be healed. Holmes thought he calculated everything but nothing could go right with this woman. Anger seeped in his veins. He was cheesed off at himself for being so naïve, so damn stupid. His stream of consciousness was suddenly interrupted with undue familiarity.

"Does this hearse have an aid kit? I need something to stop the bleeding until I'm still conscious. Do you know any 24-hour drug store? I tell you the names of the drugs I need. I'm sure you'll remember." He voice was clear and controlled. Not a slightly weak note in it.

"Aid kit is in the back. You can reach it from your seat or I'll stop…" He didn't finish the phrase.

"No, drive. I can do it."

She found the aid kit and fished out some painkillers.

"Do you have some water?" She spoke in a hoarse voice.

He took a bottle from the front seat and gave it to her. She drank the pills and made some kind of a tampon from the bandage that was in the aid kit. Slowly she lay down on the back seat and looked in rear-view mirror.

"Would you stare at me or at the road?"

"Suddenly extremely shy, Miss Adler?" the man muttered but she heard him clearly.

"I can make a show of it, you know just don't want to traumatize your innocent, virgin mind, though." She wanted to put as much venom and bravery in it as she could still the detective noticed notes of weakness and pain in her voice.

Sherlock didn't say anything just adjusted the mirror so that it didn't reflect the person at the back seat. Within an hour the car stopped and the men went to the drugstore. He has never thought that he would be buying sanitary towels, tampons or contraceptives together with disinfectants, surgical suture, anesthetic, bandages and a lot of drugs that were used in different medical field beginning with personal hygiene and ending with sophisticated surgery. He knew what the most of the drugs were for but some were puzzle even for him. The seller was greatly satisfied by this customer. At first he was telling that some medicine was prescription drugs but when he heard the rustle of pound banknotes the medicine was sold without any hesitation.

The woman was asleep when finally Sherlock brought her at a small apartment with a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room and a bathroom. Once he helped a shop-assistant who had to be executed for the fraud where his boss played the leading role. Now he went on a holiday and Mr. Holmes had two days to find them another shelter. To come to a five star hotel he had stopped was out of question. It was about 3 a.m. and a five storied building was sleeping soundly. Irene wanted to walk by herself. Their apartment was on the third floor but there was no elevator. She walked inside the building and then strong arms lifted her up and carried to the door.

"I'm not an invalid," she uttered when they were safe inside the apartment.

"I can wring out this thawb and we both will see your blood, won't we," he said in a deep voice.

"I need a bath." Miss Adler took the plastic bag with drugs and closed the door.

"If you need something I'm here." He brought the armchair and put it so that it faced the door of the bathroom. Sherlock heard water pouring in the bath and sank into a deep thought. How couldn't he predict this to happen? How could he be so absent-minded? She had to be executed today at 5 a.m. when all of a sudden the criminal traded her to those radicals yesterday and everything went wrong. He didn't foresee it and acted too slow to get her without a scratch. The man blamed himself.

"Mr. Holmes," the detective heard a sound coming from the bathroom, "Can you help me, please."

He rushed to the room. Miss Adler was sitting in the bath embracing her knees that were pulled close to her chest. She bowed down her head. Sherlock noticed the color of water streaming down the outlet. It was red. The woman was slightly shivering of being naked in an empty bath.

"Can you rub my back a little? My right hand is broken and maybe they damaged some ribs at the left side," the woman pronounced in a small voice.

He took a shower puff, turned on the shower and started washing her back very carefully. The man clearly saw three gashes on her back obviously left by a whip. The woman hissed as the puff touched the wound.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"It's nothing. Just stinks." Though, she unconsciously made a movement to straighten her back to evade the contact.

"No, I'm sorry I wasn't there in time."

"They would have sold me to a brothel in the morning. That was a test-check. So, you came in time." She reassured him. Her trembling was more obvious now. She was shivering.

"Can you wash my hair?" Irene asked trying not to chatter.

"Sure."

Mr. Holmes poured some shampoo in his palm and began massaging her scalp. He washed away the foam with water.

"I need to stitch the gashes on your back or there will be scars," the detective uttered.

"Thank you, maybe later. I have to take care about some other issues." She pronounced still shivering but not looking at him.

"I can help." He insisted.

"Get out, Mr. Holmes!" That wasn't a request but a strict order. The man even saw glimpses of hatred in her cold, dead eyes.

"As you wish, Miss Adler," He retreated leaving her alone.

She walked out after half an hour wrapped in a towel. She was surprised when he offered her a cup of strong, hot tea. Sherlock noticed tiny points left by syringe on her right arm. She wasn't left handed maybe that's why it took her so long. Her right hand was red and swollen. He noticed a big bruise on her left shoulder. Her lips were swollen too and she had a black eye. Left side of her face was blue it meant that whoever hit her was right handed. She sat down in the armchair and he covered her in a plaid. The tea was too hot and she nearly whimpered when she spilt some tea on her hand because she couldn't stop shivering.

"Maybe later," the woman sounded almost defeated. She put the cup on the table and wrapped herself in the plaid.

"Fever," Sherlock stated taking his palm away from her forehead. "Let me check your right hand."

Very unwillingly she uncovered her hand. He palpated it and she hissed. The wrist was definitely broken maybe it caused some damage to the arm too. Holmes bandaged tightly her wrist.

"Can you take it if I put some stiches on your back?" the man asked seriously.

"Yeah, maybe it would be better to do in the bed. I want at least one part of me to be covered with a blanket. I'm cold." Irene explained.

"Lying or sitting?"

"I prefer sitting. Something's wrong with my ribs."

"Let me see."

Very slowly she unwrapped the cover, the towel and he gasped. The woman had hematomas on both of the breasts. Her left side was badly bruised. The detective couldn't tell if anything was broken but it was definitely a harsh blow.

"Fine, first of all gashes, then ribs. I have to make a tight bandage around your ribs and cover one gash in the process."

She nodded. They went to the bed and she sat the same way she has been sitting in the bath. She was in medical underwear Sherlock bought for her in the drugstore. This Arab male was a bachelor. There weren't any female clothes in here. The man gently covered one half of her fragile body with a blanket and started his work.

To be continued…

Your feedback is welcome.