Irene Adler, mid-canon / Sherlock Holmes '09 / Millibar
Irene is going to be hearing that bandsaw in her nightmares for years.
She'd followed Holmes and Watson to the river, certain that they'd lead her to what her employer wanted -- Holmes is so reliable that way -- but Blackwood's thugs had caught her moments after she entered the slaughterhouse. The taunts and threats as they gagged her and strung her up by her wrists weren't as bad as the assembly line (the dis-assembly line, really) that followed . . . but they were very bad.
The sight of the hogs being split in two doesn't bear thinking about, even if she did escape. Even if Holmes and Watson did save her.
They couldn't save Watson.
The explosion knocked her cold for a minute or two, at least, and when she came to she could already hear the constables coming down the street. She'd barely had time to check Holmes -- unconscious but alive -- and stumble over to check Watson -- the same, but in considerably worse shape -- before she had to flee.
Maybe there is a higher power. When Irene yanks open the door of the slaughterhouse, Milliways is on the other side. She staggers through, a woman in men's clothes with her hair falling about her shoulders, covered in sweat and smoke and scratches--
--and finally comes to a halt, blinking and dazed by the sudden safety.
[ooc: Open forever! Although, um, I'm going to be traveling a great deal this coming week, so delays in tagging are likely.]