Only Yours

46

William's P.O.V

Walking down the streets of London feels unbelievable.

The wind is blowing through my hair. The people are bustling round my city, not paying me any attention. I feel free, for the first time in years.

The downside to getting my memories back is I can now remember what I've spent the last few years doing.

Drugs, blurring my mind, blurry vision, throwing up, blacked out for days. At first I tried to fight Joseph and his...friends, but if I did that I'd be beaten and then punished.

The punishments were awful.

So I stopped fighting. I'd follow Joseph around as he did business, introduced as his little slut, his pet, sometimes his husband and I'd just nod and smile. Then in the evenings...

Every morning I would wake up aching and sore before Joseph drugged me and I was lost in the haze of uncertainness.

The only thing I can't remember is how I was rescued. I can remembering seeing Dad, then Joseph introducing me, and I had vaguely recognised him but I had kept quiet. After that: nothing.

I remember reading about people who had been under great stress, physically and mentally, and they had all said the same thing: they all blocked memories of anxiety or sadness out of their minds, repressed them, deleted them. I've obviously done that several times; there are several gaps, ranging from hours to entire days, in my memories of the last few years.

My shoes make a clicking sound against the pavement and I resist the urge to run, free, but people are looking at me strangely anyway and I don't want anyone to realise I'm back, yet. I have some people I need to inform first. Four, to be precise.

There are only seven people who know I am alive. Mycroft, Dad, Papa, the twins, Jacob and Mrs Hudson. There are only five other people I care enough about to tell before the press realize.

I turn the corner on a street I recognise well and go up to the door of number 2, ringing the bell. A small, red-haired woman opens it and looks me up and down. 'Yes?'

'I'm here to see Irene Adler.' I reply, sticking my hands in my pockets. The woman sniffs. 'Do you have an appointment?'

Quickly, I deduce the woman (lesbian, twenties, client...and secretary) and smile sweetly. 'No. I'm actually family. We haven't seen each other in a long time.'

The woman's eyebrows shoot up. 'Family? She said- I thought she was estranged from her family.'

I shrug. 'Not all of us.'

'One second.' She wanders backwards down the hall and I peek through the door, staring at the paintings and clean, white walls. The only change that's been made is a new photograph on the mantle: me, Dad and Irene, at a café, the first time we met properly. I'm only eleven in the picture and I'm smiling widely, one tooth missing at the far side of my mouth.

The red-haired woman reappeared. 'What's your name?'

'William.' I answer honestly.

She snorts. 'And what is your relation to Miss Adler?'

'I'm her son.' I smile wickedly as the red-haired woman goes pale with shock. 'What?'

I curse myself. Irene hated people knowing she had a son, but it's too late to change my mind now. 'Yeah.'

The red-haired woman disappears, only to return minutes later, coming down the corridor. Around the corner, coming down the stairs, I hear my mother's voice. 'I am so sick of people coming to the door telling people I am their mother. I am no one's mother, not anymore. So can you please just leave me alone, you hooligans-' she appears around the corner and freezes in her tracks.