His Favorite Melody

What Is This, Fight Club?

The American man in the doorway surged forward, but Melody was on him in an instant. No real weapons at her disposal, she threw a can of cleaning spray right at his face. In his mome tary daze, she managed to get him knocked off his feet, but he took her down with him. Fear painted her expression the second she saw two more men enter the flat.

She quickly stood up and readied herself to put up a fight. Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat to check the commotion but was shocked to find her daughter squared against three larger men.

Melody turned her head to see her mother standing in the doorway to her own flat with a wide-eyed expression.

"Get back inside and phone Greg, mum." Mel said, turning back to the men, who were now all standing steadily on their feet.

"I don't think so. You'll both be coming with us and showing us just where the phone Miss Adler left is." One of the Americans said gruffly.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph! The woman is dead, and she's still causing me problems!" Mel huffed.

"You two take the old lady and start looking upstairs. I'll deal with this one." The American in charge ordered. He charged forward and grabbed her, wrestling her to the ground as the other two men dragged her mother up the stairs.

"Let her go! You leave her the hell alone!" Melody yelled, thrashing around until she ripped her arms from the man's hold. It was a shock to them both when she managed to punch him in the cheek and tackle him. She had him pinned with her knees, rage in her eyes as she raised a fist. She hit him quickly, hearing a crack as her fist landed on his nose, breaking the cartilage with a sickeningly satisfactory crunch that filled the flat.

Blood poured from his nose, but he caught her in an idiotic moment of reverie and flipped them over, slamming her back onto the hard floor. He raised his own clenched fist with ease before slamming down with dangerous force into Melody's jaw. She felt her jaw throb as blood started to spill into her mouth and out of her nose.

"Give up yet?" He asked, smiling viciously down at her.

"Never." She practically growled, spitting blood out.

"You Brits, just never learn, do ya?" He asked before raising her head up by her hair and slamming it into the ground.

Melody woke up some time later to find herself tied to one of the dining room chairs, which was now sat in front of the fireplace. She looked over to see her mother sitting terrified in the chair beside her. One of the Americans had a gun leveled right at her head. She looked a bit roughed up, but overall, alright. The other  two black suited goons stood by the fireplace.

She looked up as Sherlock came strolling through the door, hands clasped behind him, cool as anything - like Prince Charles on an official visit.

Melody gave him a bloody smile. "Sorry, Sherlock. I'm pretty sure they messed up your sock index."

She focused on Sherlock as his eyes flicked to the red mark on Mrs. Hudson's face. The older woman had been slapped, hard. There was a little trickle of blood in the centre of the bruise. Meanwhile, melody had a nice bruise of her own forming on the left side of her face. She had obviously been in a fight, and he was sure he'd find that her hands were scuffed up as well.

"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes." The American with the gun said.

"Then you should ask for it." Sherlock replied tersely. He stepped forward to Mrs. Hudson and gently pushed one of her sleeves up to reveal blotches on her arm. Finger marks where she'd been tightly gripped. Now, his fingers traveled almost tenderly to where there was a rip in her blouse. She was shaking like a leaf.