Cecilia Holmes, Daughter of Minerva (Sherlock/Percy Jackson crossover)

Chapter 46

I watched the make-up tutorial closely, pausing every five seconds so I could mimic the model as closely as I could.
    I had found a bunch of make-up and hair products in my bathroom that morning, which creeped me out slightly since I never saw anyone enter my room. Anyway, so far I felt as if I was doing a good job, considering I had never touched make-up before in my life.
    But it was Prom night.
    Where’s a child of Aphrodite when you actually need one?
    It took me two hours and thirty-six minutes total to do my face and hair, but I had planned accordingly, so I still had some time before I needed to walk to Claude’s house. He had never actually asked where I lived— I had gotten away with a vague description of my host family’s house only a few streets away from him. But he hadn’t asked me about it again after I had given him a bloody nose.
    I smiled at the memory as I stepped into the yellow dress.
    The one he had bought me.
    My smile faltered.
    Once I was dressed, I went and looked into the mirror on top of my dresser. I stared at myself.
    My gray eyes had never looked so big and round. My black hair fell down to the middle of my back in waves, and there wasn’t a single frizzy or burnt hair anywhere on my head.
    Being completely honest with myself, I was beautiful. But I was vain to think that, wasn’t I?
    No. You’re supposed to be beautiful tonight. Besides, Claude must think you’re beautiful if he fell for you. Looking like this will only make it hurt worse when you break him.
    I shook my head, turning away from the mirror.
    “No… no!” I sighed. I ran my hands through my hair carelessly.
    “I always wanted to get out into the world,” I mumbled, rubbing my forehead. “I was always so determined to go on a quest and become a hero. But this… this wasn’t what I imagined.”
    I began to pace back and forth.
    “I was the orphan. The unwanted outcast. And I was okay with that. I was always okay with that. It was just another attribute that made me unique. I didn’t mind being alone. I was always alone. And I was okay with that. What changed? What changed?!”
    I looked up at the ceiling, clenching my fists.
    “You made me orphaned and friendless my whole life, but then you throw me into this mess?” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “You had me hate everyone and everything… and now I love! I love them!” I could see Sherlock as he smirked at me. I saw Claude as he laughed in the elevator. “Fates! Mother! Whoever is responsible— I don’t understand what you’re trying to teach me! I don’t… I don’t understand…”
    I sat on the edge of my bed.
    “Are you trying to scare me away from love forever?” I whispered, closing my eyes tightly. “Because you’re doing a good job.”

*

    My high-heels clicked against the cold, metal floor of the TARDIS as I walked through the maze of halls. I had been forced to figure out my way around the enormous time machine without Claude around to help me, and eventually I had memorized the way to some of the more important places.
    Like where the prisoners were kept.
    I stopped in front of Sherlock’s door.
    “Dad?” I said, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and called again, “Sherlock?”
    “Cecilia?” I heard his muffled reply from behind the door. I got as close to the magical barrier as I could.
    “Sorry,” I said, loud enough for him to hear me, “I can’t touch the door on this side or else I’ll get shocked, so I can’t let you out or anything but…”
    I silenced. I was there hoping to find some encouragement or motivation.
    Because I didn’t want to go to Prom. I didn’t want to break Claude’s heart. I didn’t want to lose the only friend I’d ever had.
    I wasn’t sure what I was expecting him to do. It’s not like he could help me. This wasn’t a case he could solve. This wasn’t a case anyone could solve. It was hopeless.
    How was Sherlock Holmes supposed to understand how I felt? I wasn’t sure I understood myself. So how was I supposed to explain?
    What am I doing here?
    “Are you all right?”
    I looked up, blinking back tears.
    “No.”
    There was silence for a long, dreadful moment.
    But then there was a loud yell and a groan. I jumped as the door shook on it’s hinges, violently.
    “Sherlock, what are you—?!”
    “I am your father and you will address me as such!” he yelled.
    The door flew from it’s hinges, falling inward. Sherlock threw the door to the ground with a huff. And then he looked at me.
    He blinked and took a double take.
    “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low.
    “I’m going to Prom,” I replied apathetically.
    He frowned and I tried my best to keep my tears at bay.
    “What?!” he snapped.
    “You know, I think most dads would say something like ‘you look beautiful’ or ‘make sure he has you back by midnight’ or something.”
    “You do look beautiful, but this… this isn’t like you, is it?” he said, trying to step through the doorway. The blue barrier glowed as he ran into it, and he hissed and stepped back, glaring at the doorframe.
    “What is going on, Cecilia?” he asked again, clenching his hands into fists.
    “I’m going to Prom to save John,” I said, smiling bitterly.
    “Oh.”
    Sherlock was silent for a long time.
    “It’s that Claude fellow, isn’t it?”
    I nodded.
    Sherlock was quiet again.
    “Are you and him… together?”
    I thought about it, and then nodded again.
    Technically we were together. Until later tonight.
    “Oh. Well he’s… he’s not a bad guy, Claude,” he said, awkwardly nodding as he looked off to the side. I chuckled. Claude— broken, TARDIS Claude, even— had my dad’s approval.
    “No, he’s really not,” I whispered, “But I am.”
    I took a deep breath, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
    I faced the wall, looking straight up so the water in my eyes wouldn’t spill and ruin my make-up.
    “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Sherlock!” I cried out.
    He was silent.
    “Tell me I can do anything,” I said in a hoarse whisper, “Tell me I’m a monster. Tell me I’m heartless. Tell me, or I won’t be able to do this. I won’t be able to save John.”
    I waited, but he said nothing. I clenched my hands into fists.
    “Tell me!”
    “No. I won’t,” he snapped, “Because none of that is true, Cecilia. You can’t do everything, you aren’t a monster, and you’re not heartless. If you could do everything, you’d be a god. You aren’t a monster, you’re a bitter teenage girl who’s been pushed to her limits. And you’re not heartless. Look at you! You’re crying. You wouldn’t be able to do that if you didn’t have a heart.”
    “Shut up!” I screamed.
    “But listen, daughter of Minerva,” Sherlock went on in a louder voice, “You can still complete this task. You can save John. Because you are a demigod. You are a strategist. You are a hero.”
    “No, no, shut up, I’m not,” I whispered, “I’m the villain. I’m the villain.”
    “Not if you save John,” Sherlock said, firmly.
    He wasn’t exactly helping. I had other people on my mind than John.
    Like a teenage demigod named Claude.
    “This wasn’t a good idea,” I said, turning to go down the hall.
    “Cecilia, wait.”
    I stopped and looked back at him, fiercely.
    “You wouldn’t have come to me if you didn’t want the facts,” he said, “And I’ve given them to you. If you were expecting hope or encouragement, I’m sorry to disappoint, but you are going to be hurt. That’s what happens when you toy with revenge.”
    I took a step back toward him.
    “If I hadn’t made the deal with Nemesis, I would’ve never met you,” I said, flatly, searching his face.
    “And now it’s up to you to decide whether meeting me was worth it or not.”
    We stared at each other.
    “Was it?” he asked, his gray eyes looking straight into mine.
    “I don’t know.”
    And then I walked away.
    As soon as I turned the corner, out of his sight, I burst into a run. I ran through the twisting corridors, unsure of my direction but not really caring if I got lost forever.
    Then I wouldn’t have to face reality, just the next doorway, forever and ever…
    I turned a corner and my nose was suddenly pushing against a clothed chest.
    I pushed the body away from me as I stumbled back.
    Claude.
    No. Please, not now.
    He examined me through narrow eyes. I let him, not sure what else to do. His face was dark and his eyes emotionless. It was terrifying. His eyes slowly moved up to meet my gaze, but I couldn’t hold it for very long and looked at the ground.
    And then he turned on his heel and walked away.
    My heart battered against my ribs.
    “Claude… Claude, wait,” I said, walking after him. I grabbed his arm, but he yanked free and burst into a run. I ran after him, but he was more determined to get away from me than I was to catch up.
    Plus, I was in heels.