Harriet Watson

Whilst she tried to hold a strong face towards the other, the fear of his words actually being true were quite apparent. What should she even say? What should she begin to question first? ‘You’re lying’? ‘Proof’? ‘Why’? Or did any of that even matter now? Something told her that whatever she asked, he could be pretty dismissive about it and keep information to a minimum. He was doing it to keep her attention fixed on him, and that was exactly what he had managed to do. So fucking what if she was giving him what he wanted? Better that than to suddenly be shown Clara’s skull or something grotesque like that. “...Alright, yeah.” She tightened her hand into a fist and flexed it a little, narrowing her eyes towards the other. There was no way of knowing if this man was lying right now, and therefore she needed to keep her cool about it. If at all possible. “Y-you have my attention. So, what the fuck do you want?”

Letting out a soft snort, Elizabeth shook her head with a tiny ghost of a smile on her lips. “Its fine….just some company and a chat about anything or everything would be nice I suppose, just to to e things down again.”

{ trigger warning, some nsfw and possible noncon/dubcon }

“Had a bit much to drink? You could hardly stand.”

“Were you robbed or is kinky foreplay gone wrong the reason you’re tied up?”

“My, what have we here?”

“You look nervous. What’s wrong?”

“I think you might have been drugged.”

“There’s no hiding how hot and bothered you are, darling…”

“You’re burning up and in no condition to be walking about, get to bed.”

“Are you still awake? Maybe the drug wasn’t strong enough…”

“When I saw you looking so helpless, I just couldn’t resist…”

“You shouldn’t be walking all alone this time of night. There’s dangerous people around. Who knows what might happen…”

“Heh. And how do you plan to stop me?”

“I’ll strap you down nice and tight… It’ll be fun watching you squirm.”

“Are you crying?”

“Struggle all you want, cutie.”

“I’m n-not drunk, I only had a couple of drinks.”

“Put me down, I can walk!”

“Mind untying me?”

“I feel kinda… dizzy…”

“I might be coming down with something.”

“Stay back…”

“W-why can’t I move?”

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“Apparently the brownies I ate were a bit… special.”

“I can’t get up…”

“Who’s there?”

“No, don’t let them take me!”

“i’ll do it.”

“please just don’t.”

“i hate you.”

“i love you.”

“you love me?”

“please stop it.”

“i can’t breathe.”

“just go away.”

“you’re an ass.”

“you’re a bitch.”

“don’t leave me!”

“don’t walk away.”

“stay with me.”

“i’m begging you…”

“for fucks sake…”

“clean this up!”

“please kiss me.”

“get off me!”

“you are despicable.”

“are you okay!?”

“don’t do this.”

“please shut up.”

“are you drunk?”

“ don’t stop ”

“ please don’t ”

“ don’t shoot ”

“ give it ”

“ shut up ”

“ damn it! ”

“ stop it! ”

“ you’re crazy ”

“ that’s insane ”

“ get out! ”

“ don’t leave ”

“ i’m tired ”

“ that’s bad ”

“ be honest ”

“ be careful ”

“ be nice ”

“ you’re wrong ”

“ go home ”

“ watch it ”

“ fuck me ”

“ kiss me ”

“ we can’t… ”

“ we shouldn’t… ”

“ you’re perfect ”

Harriet’s entrance hadn’t exactly been one of serenity and poise. She saw the door left wide open from a mile away and immediately dreaded the worst possible scenario. Having expected noisier intruders, and a lot less left untouched and un…searched, the greeting of a stranger lounged across her sofa seemed to leave the drunkard weirdly relieved. Albeit, not completely relieved of concerns, but it helped ease her nerves a bit. After getting a good eye at the bloke, her shoulders slumped and she lifted a pointed finger at the guy. 

“You’re Sherlock Holmes, right? The guy with the long coat and the hat in the newspaper, yeah?” The blonde asked, though not entirely questioning it, just establishing it to herself. She kicked the door shut behind her and then slowly cast a curious eyebrow toward the detective. About to question why he had decided to break into her flat, but then having the matter of her brother being mentioned and being upset with her actions sent a quick little poke of guilt at her gut. She huffed slightly,  walking a little bit closer towards Sherlock, biting at her lip as she tried to hide her discomfort with this confrontation. 

She gathered at this point that he was trying to go for the empathy thing, to get her to feel as though she could relate to him and therefore would take solace in someone similar to her. But he had struck a nerve, and the things he was saying were going into a storm-filled head. She saw the marks, and she understood his past. But that did not dismiss the fact that he was still using Clara to try and convince her that it would be good for her. He had the fucking cheek to use Clara, a woman whom he had never met, against her, a woman he had just met. “You have a really brilliant skill at pissing a person off, you know? And... have you just assigned yourself as my psychiatrist right now? Is that what’s happening?” Harriet reached over and held at the arms of her chair, offering the other a look. “Alright then. You’ve shared something, I suppose it’s my turn now then, hm? My turn to expose some serious backbone to my alcoholism, hm? Alright.” Harry, grimacing, took in a slow breath and tried to calm herself down. Breathe Harry. Now is not the time for a bar fight. “Second chances are in human nature. You’re right. But the chances of actually getting that opportunity right now are at a minimum. What you don’t understand is that the reason for our divorce is that I cheated on her. I’m not sure if you were aware of that, but from that point, she lost any sense of trust in me, and for that, she left instantly.”  

“…Uh…I-I’m not following what you’re talking about, Jill.”