Description
He was looking at Sherlock Holmes. Yet not the one he would have expected. Distinctive changeable eyes, lined by a row of long dense lashes, showed an expression of a wild animal standing in the glare of approaching headlights. Of a man driven into a corner. Simply expressed, an expression of pure horror, something you don't see on a famous consulting detective most of the time. John opened his mouth, but after a realisation that he has no idea of what he wanted to say, he closed it again. He wasn't welcomed by a mutilated, smashed face. The severed spine could be ruled out straight away, and he seemed to have all his limbs as well. He felt an endless relief when he saw solid, uninjured skin where the blood flowed the last time. Nevertheless, the scene he was offered tugged the carpet under his feet and he had to admit (if a bit grudgingly) that Mycroft was right-he did not exaggerate when warning him it might be a shock. Trigger warnings: This story contains references to violence and its description, and also deals with self-esteem issues and body image. If something triggers you, please proceed with caution or reconsider if you want to continue reading. PS: English isn't my native language and I'm a bit unsure of my style, but I hope you will like it. Enjoy the story!
1. Prologue
