It Rains Blood In London

Chapter 1 Arrival on Baker Street

Clouds cover the London skyline, obscuring my view of the city that I had dreamed about for years. As the wheels unfolded from the bottom of the airplane I lace my fingers together in anticipation. Nervous habits calm me I suppose, yet I'm not nervous. Or I don't think I am. Normally I'm not a person who spends time dreading the inevitable, but it feels like a different story today.

I wonder what my uncle will think of me. Will he be expecting a good little girl who obeys without a second glance, or a rebellious teenager who sneaks out in the dead of night to buy drugs on street corners. Anything but me. I'm neither, not a wild child, not a goody two shoes. Just plain Keira. Just a girl with a violin and a past I'd rather not forget.

Damn I'm boring. I think to myself as I screw in my earbuds, ignoring the safety warnings from sleepy flight attendants, who look like they could use a cup of coffee, and drowning out the world in punk rock music.

Even though the music is rock concert loud, my head droops causing me to snap awake and hit my knees on the drink tray. My coffee spills all over the table and on to my jeans like mud rain.

"Shit." I curse and the balding man sitting next me, shoots a glare at me while muttering about indecent teenagers. Of course he was the one snoring throughout the entire flight. I also could tell him all about his non-existent love life. But no need to be cruel. Or maybe I'm too tired. But I'm pretty sure of the latter. 

Napkins are yanked from my carry on bag and I mop up the mess,thankful that my phone avoided the coffee.

I lean against the window, slowly falling asleep. I haven't slept in, well I'm too tired to do the math, but at least three days. Possibly four.

A thump reverberates from the bottom of the plane. I blink in the early morning light, glad it's been muted by the thick layer of clouds. Yawning, I pinch my  wrist so I don't fall asleep.

"Coffee, coffee, coffee." I murmur aloud accidentally. The balding man unbuckles his seat belt and brushes crumbs off his blue suit.

Cheap material, old, not well taken care of. He's not got a job, probably has an interview. My guess would be an accountant seeing as he has been numbering mostly everything he can. His female partner left him, obviously. Small details race through my mind. I could humiliate him, but no one would take me seriously. But no one ever does.

I'm fifteen years old and have tried and failed miserably at almost everything I've done. Band? Newspaper? Forensics club? You name it I've probably attempted. I  also have long blond hair and I'm five feet and two inches. I've been told I look nice, but really who are we kidding. I actually don't give a crap. It probably doesn't help my case that I'm from Canada and will apologize unnecessarily at any given moment. I know clichéd and sterotypical. But hey what can I do?

I'm bothered from my thoughts as the balding man finally leaves the aisle taking a lingering stench of potato vomit.

I pinch my wrist once more and exit the plane with the other passengers. A large coffee makes its way into my hand once I'm in the terminl. I'm surprised that the cashier even talked to me. It probably looks like I have a nest of birds atop my skull. My bags are collected without an incident and my coffee is gone by the time I realize that it was black. While I'm placing gum into my mouth, I step out the front doors, the caffeine flowing through my veins.

The outside is humid and rainy. Drops cascade from the sky, carpeting the cement and river of black cabs. I'm not really sure how to hail a taxi, so I stand on the sidewalk and wave my arm. Sure enough, despite my small town childhood, a taxi pulls up to the curb. I step inside, beginning my first London cab ride.

My bags have been loaded and I've given my address. It was expected that I would go straight to John and Mary's flat, but I knew that it was much more likely that my uncle would be at 221b Baker Street. I wanted to surprise him first. Mary and I were only related through marriage, John was my biological uncle. Who I never knew existed until six months ago.