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Chapter One
You and Sherlock crossed the road. He bustled ahead of you, and yo sighed to your self.
"Watson!" Sherlock called as you slowed, caught up in organizing your reports.
"Damn it Sherlock, you walk too fast." You complained, and he smiled. You were used to the conceited man by now. He was grumpy, and annoying at times, and at other times he could be nicer. He woke at ungodly hours, before even you. You were jerked from your thoughts as you were jerked from the road- just as a cab zoomed by.
"You must remove your head from the clouds, Watson." He joked as he saved you from the injuries that would have come to you, had you not been brought to safety.
"Why should I, Sherlock, when it is apparent I can always rely on you?" You asked, and Sherlock grinned.
"Ah, yes. There is that." You smiled at the detective, and he continued on his way. You followed. When you arrived at the scene of the crime, you were greeted by the newest Yard agent; Mister Gerald Hangaar.
"Ah. Hangaar. What have we here?" You asked, and the man pointedly ignored you. You rolled your eyes, and poked Sherlock.
"The sexist bastard is doing it again." You complained, and Sherlock nodded. Hangaar was small minded, in your opinion. He believed that women were for cooking and sex, not for doctoring and detecting. Sherlock despised him. As did you. You each had your separate reasons, for Sherlock, however, it was how he looked at you. He stared at you when you were not looking, and it was as if you were something to eat. The way he treated you, like you were an object to be tossed aside... It was not modern thinking, and Sherlock did not enjoy his company. He was appalled, actually. More so when he said when they first met,
"Sherlock Holmes could have any women, and yet he goes for the one who thinks she is independent. How incredibly foolish." Sherlock had replied promptly with;
"She is, an independent woman, and I do not 'have' her, as you so vulgarly put, I simply use the skills she possesses of doctoring, and detecting." The argument went on, and finally Sherlock had won. Though Hangaar never spoke to you, he never tried to make a move on you.
Today, as your eyes searched for clues, Gerald filled Sherlock in on the case.
"A murder, a woman killed, she was with child." He said.
"Why was it you chosen, when you have no respect for women?" Sherlock asked, and Gerald glared at him profusely. You, upon hearing the conversation, smirked. And you could hear Sherlock chuckle. You sighed, standing.
"Sherlock." You called him over, and he sauntered towards you.
"Watson. What do you have for me?" He asked, and you smiled at him.
"There's blood. And Cigar ashes. Smells like Gerinski Cigars. What say you?" You asked him, and he smiled.
"I'm rubbing of on you. You're right." He smirked at your surprised face, which developed into a taunting grin.
"If you're rubbing off on me, I'll never be wrong again." He chuckled again, and you smiled.
"You flatter me, my dear Watson." You nodded.
"How would I get any information out of you otherwise Sherlock?" You rolled your eyes.
"Go round the side, I shall investigate the inside of the scene. I doubt we will get much trouble from our friend." He nodded at Gerald. You have him a nod, and headed toward the side of the house. You heard footsteps follow you. Much heavier than those of Sherlocks'. You weren't surprised- Hangaar followed you often. You were surprised, however, when you were pushed up against the wall by the strong, tall man. He was strong, yes, he was taller than you, yes. You weren't ashamed to admit that you were not the strongest of women. But he began to feel you up, which you were not a fan of.
"Get off me ya bloody-" you were cut off as a hand met your face.
"Shut up woman! It's high time you learned your damn place, you dirty bitch." He said, when he slapped you.
"Well. This is new. You sure you don't want to grab Sherlock so you don't have to talk to me?" You asked dryly, and he growled.
"You're a woman. You are an object- the only thing your good for is serving." You squeaked a bit when he fondled you, trying your best to punch him. But your hands were soon lifted above your head as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the am wall. You struggled, kicking at him with your legs, but he simply laughed at that.
"SHE-" you tried screaming, but you felt the bastard's lips upon your own. He roughly stuck his tongue in your mouth- without permission- but that was the last thing on your mind. His hand had wandered up to your chest, and was groping relentlessly. You heard a small cough, and saw Sherlock standing there, looking calm. Of course, you had seen this before, and this was his 'I am about to kill you, in a very, very painful way' look. While his stance was calm, his eyes burned with hatred. You continued kicking agains Hangaar, gasping for breath when he dropped you. You slumped against the wall for a moment, catching your breath, before standing up, and walking up to Hangaar. You looked him in the eyes as your fist met his jaw. Sherlock had told you before that you had one hell of a right hook.