Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Claymore

Chapter 1

John tossed and turned in his sleep tormented by his dreams. The intensity of the nightmare finally jolted John awake. He gasped and tried to shake off the feeling he was being stalked. A knock on his door brought John fully into the present.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock's muffled voice instantly made John relax.

John got off the bed and answered the door. Sherlock pushed his way into the room and searched John's face. Nightmares had plagued John ever since Sherlock had known him. "Are you having nightmares about Afghanistan again?" Sherlock tried to make his query nonchalant; however, the worry for John made Sherlock's voice slightly higher than usual.

John ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair. "The dreams weren't about Afghanistan. Demons were chasing me, horrible monsters with glowing eyes. Well, it all sounds kind of silly now that I'm awake." A loud crash of thunder rattled the windows of the flat, making it seem as if someone were desperately trying to get it. Lightening illuminated the room, making familiar objects look sinister and foreign.

Sherlock held out his hand to John. "Come back to bed with me. Why didn't you come in with me in the first place?" Sherlock's voice had an annoyed flat tone.

John sighed. "I got in late and I didn't want to disturb you."

Sherlock leaned his head to one side. "And this isn't disturbing me?" Another clap of thunder made John want to dive under the covers. Sherlock swatted John on the butt. "Get to bed John Hamish Watson." As Sherlock pushed open his bedroom door, his white Afghan dog Confetti nudged his way past John, jumped on the bed and burrowed his head under the covers. Each bolt of thunder brought a howl from Confetti that sent shivers down John's spine.

Sherlock jumped in bed and held the covers up for John. John willingly slipped in beside Sherlock. In a few moments John forgot his nightmare as Sherlock encircled him in an embrace. "John, where were you, tonight?" Sherlock murmured.

John hesitated before he answered. "I tried to follow Clare. Sherlock, there is something not quite right about her. I traced her as far as China town, and then she just vanished into thin air."

Sherlock stiffened. "John, please promise you will never do something that foolish again. Clare, is not what she seems, however, I don't think she means us any harm. Just the same John, please don't follow her again."

The sound of torrential rain and crashing thunder filled the room. "Sherlock, what aren't you telling me?" John asked softly.

Sherlock turned his face away from John. "Do you remember when Clare told us that her family had been killed and that she had been taken along with the killers and raped and used as a play thing? Well, John, that's when I made up mind that we should assist her. No matter what Clare became after her experiences, she is still a damaged creature that needs our help." Pain was etched on Sherlock's features as he turned back around to face John.

John studied Sherlock's expression for a moment and then the truth began to dawn on him. "Oh God, Sherlock, is one of the reasons you are emphatic to her cause, is that you know how she feels?" Sherlock answer me. "Have been…abused…raped?"

By this time tears were pouring down Sherlock's cheeks. "John, it doesn't matter now. What's done is done."

John ran his hand over Sherlock's back. "Sherlock, tell me what happened. I want to know." John continued to stroke Sherlock's back as he spoke to Sherlock as if he were a frightened child.

Sherlock drew in a deep breath. "John, when we first made love, I told you that I hadn't had sex with another person, willingly, that was true. I was raped in prison when I was in Eastern Europe. Mycroft put a stop to it as soon as he was able, however, he couldn't act too concerned lest he compromise my cover. That time wasn't too bad. The first time was the worse." Sherlock gulped and continued on. "I was fourteen and home for the holidays. My parent's had left the house on a weekend getaway and I was alone in the house with Mycroft and some of his friends. Mycroft left to get more beer and cigarettes and I went down to the kitchen to rummage around for something to eat. When I walked into the kitchen one of Mycroft's friends commented on how beautiful my curls were.