𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 • anthony lockwood

iii) hidden plans and whispered promises

iIi) hidden plans and whispered promises. (1)

SOPHIE STEPPED INTO THE KITCHEN, adjusting the long sleeves of the grey pyjama top she was wearing. Her tired eyes scanned the dark room, finding discarded mugs in the sink. She had been searching for Lockwoodm ever since she woke up in an empty bed. The house was quiet and he wasn't in his usual spot in the library.

With a sigh, her fingers found the cold handle of the basement door, gently pulling it open. Sophie could hear hushed voices from the top of the stairs. She quietly descended the metal steps, focusing on the two oblivious figures hunched over  George's desk with a singular lamp as their light source.

George was flicking through the various pages scattered across his messy desk, while Lockwood watched him, almost anxiously.

"What do you think?" Lockwood whispered.

"I think you're a bigger idiot than I gave you credit for."

"George," the older boy huffed out. "We have to do something."

"I understand that, Lockwood," George replied, jabbing his finger on the page in front of him. "But this isn't the solution."

"Lockwood?" Sophie spoke up. Both boys looked up, startled. George slammed the notebook shut, and Lockwood took a tentative step away from the desk. "What's going on?"

"Sorry, Soph, we just got carried away with work," Lockwood spoke up after a moment, moving towards Sophie cautiously, wrapping an arm around her. "I'll come up to bed now."

Sophie glanced between them, her eyes settling on a sheepish-looking George. "What work?"

"For tomorrow's case," the younger boy answered, taking off his glasses and cleaning them in his graphic t-shirt- A telltale sign that he was lying. "I just wanted to make sure we're completely prepared. You know... with it being  your first case back and all."

Sophie's eyes narrowed as she scanned the desk before spotting a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. Ducking underneath Lockwood's arm, she moved to pick it up, unfolding it carefully.

"What is this?" The thin sheet of paper felt heavy in her hands as her gaze locked on to the name marked in red. Rupert Gale. The handwriting was messy underneath but Sophie could still clearly understand what was happening. "We talked about this weeks ago."

"Soph-"

She interrupted him, letting the crumpled page fall to the desk. "No, Lockwood. You promised me you weren't going to do anything."

Lockwood stepped towards her, a crease between his brows as he spoke quietly. "He hurt you, Sophie," his reminder was strained, a pained look behind his dark eyes. "He can't just get away with that."

Sophie crossed her arms, shaking her head. "He's not getting away with anything. But it's too dangerous right now when we still have so much we don't understand."

"Sophie's right," George spoke up, hesitantly.

"The longer we take to do something about this the more time he has to-" Lockwood cut himself off, watching Sophie deliberately lean against George's desk, before slowly sitting down on it with a grimace. "Soph, are you okay?"

She felt a hand gently squeeze her shoulder but she shrugged it off, nodding. "You look a bit pale," George added.

Before Sophie could speak up again, Lockwood made his way over, holding the back of his hand to her forehead. "Have you taken your pain med-"

"I'm just tired," she answered honestly, taking his hand away and holding it between her two smaller ones. "It's been a long day," she says softly, her eyes straying to the clock on the wall behind them.