Elizabeth Watson (John Watson's daughter- Sherlock fan fiction)

Chapter 11- Her Muted World

 The finger tapping on her shoulder made her jump. Her eyes followed up the arm and towards the face, which was bent down in anxiety towards her.

It was Elijah.

Being quiet in nature, Elizabeth was now able to appreciate the density in his face. He was saying so much without the instrument of voice, in the same way she was feeling so much without the tool of sound.

His face presented both remorse and pity. He dropped his bag to the ground and rifled through it, producing a pen and notebook. He lifted the ink to the paper but Elizabeth closed her eyes. It felt nice to have sympathy offered so gently, but at the same time she felt a cheat of this gift. Really, there was no need for it. She was fine. She had just been imprudent. She would learn from this mistake.

She let the aid fall to the floor before turning and leaving. No need to dwell on the misfortune. She would learn and move on like Sherlock.

She did not look back and Elijah did not follow as the sea of sound parted about her and she carved a silent passage through it in the same way Moses parted the Red Sea before drowning the Israelites.

*

The afternoon was cold and grey. Clouds were gathering like ominous spectators for some jeering sport. Elizabeth frowned at them and drove her hands deeper into her warm coat pockets.

Tiptoeing lightly up the steps, she withdrew her key and unlocked the door. Stepping into the hallway she was overcome with warmth and a delicious, homely smell of cooking. She wished she could have heard her father's cheerful greeting, for she knew his excitement always grew at her homecoming on a birthday. Instead however, she slipped off her thin school shoes and hooked her coat onto the wall in silence.

She hesitated before walking into the room. It was like walking out into an unfamiliar and empty place.

The first thing she noticed was Sherlock by the window, as he played his violin. She missed the music and her eyes remained on him for many heartbeats.

John, who was curious as to why she had not responded to his greeting, came over and embraced her. She jumped at his touch as if not expecting it, and when she turned to him, her eyes glowed with a dim hint of alarm. They relaxed almost immediately and she fell into his arms.

And then John realised.

He had seen what the loss of senses could do to people in the war. Many soldiers had come to him, their ears erupted from blasts or eyes corroded by gas and debris- they always had that same terrified hint in their eyes. He looked to her left ear in anxiety.

Why had she taken out the hearing aid?

There had been a time, for perhaps a year after Elizabeth's accident, where she had been left in her muted world. The hearing aid had taken many months to reach them and in this time the pair had developed a slow sign language. Now John stood before her and she looked at him with a sort of apprehension.

There was something she did not want to tell him.

'Where is it?' John asked with his fingers.

Elizabeth peered down at her own hands and slowly morphed her words.

'On the pavement outside school.' she said, although this information was in fact, no longer true.

John was confused.

'Why is it there?'

'Because that is where I left it.'

John's eyebrows rose in a jokingly questioning way.

'And why did you leave it there, may I ask?'

'It is no use to me anymore.'

'So you can magically hear without it now?'

'I didn't say that.'

Suddenly, Elizabeth felt a presence behind her and turned to see Sherlock's tall frame glaring down. His lips were moving and he spoke to John. Her father then looked at her in timid disbelief, before returning to Sherlock, as he began to reply. She watched his lips, but it had been so long since she had needed to lip read and she found only the words, 'how' and, 'anything' and, 'time'.

It was so frustrating to know so little of what was happening around her.

It was exposing and empty and restricting all at the same time.