For the next few days, Lorelin had been advised to stay in the flat where she'd be watched over and not as easily found. Sherlock had discussed her self-harm briefly, not knowing how to properly talk about such a topic. All that the girl could do was sit around the flat and try to entertain herself around the small space. Mrs. Hudson had taken to teaching her how to bake cookies with the simple ingredients already in the pantry.
"Mrs. Hudson, watch Mycroft's step-daughter. We're going out for a few hours; we should be back in a few hours." Sherlock instructed as he stepped halfway out of the door.
"Oh, alright dearie. Have fun!" She cheered.
The older woman seated herself down across from the dark-haired girl and let out a tired breath. They sat amongst the awkward air and gave each other flashes of smiles whenever their wandering gazes would meet. Lorelin started thinking of how Sherlock had, luckily, not revealed her secret to anyone and approached her carefully about it. She now had the long sleeves of a black sweater covering her scarred forearms and hiding the result of her mental battles.
"How has Mycroft been?" Mrs. Hudson asked politely.
Lorelin's thought trail ended as she began to reply with a constant answer, "He's been well."
"That's really nice. And your mum?"
"She's alright. They're both just busy with work."
"What do you do during the days that they're gone?"
"Go to school, hang around the house, listen to music..."
"You don't go outside?"
"Generally, no. It's too chilly out for me to really be out there for long. Plus, I get bored quickly if it's just me standing around."
"That's a shame. We used to love frolicking around the gardens and woods around our homes. Of course, we didn't live in London so we had loads of nature and space surrounding us."
"Yeah, the closest we have to nature at home is decorative bouquets of flowers that had been picked out to coordinate with each other."
"Ah, I see. But that seems so dull! We must take a walk for a bit so you can stretch your legs or something. All of that sitting and being cooped up inside..." Mrs. Hudson went on.
"Uhm, okay...but I'll need to put my jacket on. I don't know if-" Lorelin retaliated.
"Don't worry, Sherlock won't mind if we spent ten minutes outside of the flat. It's not like there's much going on at the moment."
Lorelin nodded in agreement and followed the landlady through the doorway; they began their stroll. Snow-lined streets continued to appear all over the place and small lights that hadn't been removed from Christmas blinked in the shining Sun. Their exhales billowed up and clouded the other nearby air as their feet wandered the slushy sidewalks. It's stunningly beautiful Lorelin thought. Even in the chilling temperature, the flashing lights were still dazzling as ever and the rosy cheeks of all passersby created lovely, natural rouge shades in each person's face.
The cold crept in slowly, causing for the teenager's nose to run like mad and the pair headed back home, for Mrs. Hudson didn't wish for Lorelin to be coming down with even a slight illness. John would've taken care of such a thing without effort, but Mrs. Hudson wouldn't even risk it.
Together, they had walked a half of a mile in the sparkling, cemented city. Cabs rushed alongside each other on the busy two-lane black top while frantic shoppers pushed between crowds for various items they deemed to be useful. The landlady reached for her key to re-open the door. Then, her companion for the walk's deep, rich green eyes widened as a signal. Her notification was so silent due to her stun and disbelief for what she was sure of happening in the current scenario.
The time froze. Lorelin tried to draw the frail-looking woman backwards hastily, but she was stronger than her appearance showed off. Mrs. Hudson didn't budge as she started to push the door in, turning her head to question the young girl what she was doing. The scene played out as if it were a slow motion part of a dramatic film. A loud bang echoed through all of Baker Street, for a shot had been fired by a concealed gunman. Only moments passed for the dots to all connect and form a full image of what was going on. Shocked people stood around, slowed by fear, and allowed their bewildered faces express their thoughts.
The beloved landlady fell backwards onto the street, her eyes shut in stinging pain. Lorelin was crying; she sank down to her knees and grabbed a hold of Mrs. Hudson's forearm as if holding onto life for her. A pool of crimson liquid grew on the cracked sidewalk and stained her white blouse. People crowded around the woman and crying girl, watching as one struggled to take in her breaths and the other's salty tears intermingling with the blood.
The cold air seeped through Lorelin's clothes and chilled her pale skin, but it didn't matter. The dying woman was a much bigger importance in her life. Both of them felt a numbness gradually taking over parts of their bodies as the time passed and an ambulance finally showed up for Mrs. Hudson. The girl finally understood what John must've felt; a desperate, pathetic hope in her heart and hopelessness overtaking her mind.
Sherlock and his partner arrived an hour later, not hearing the terrible news of Mrs. Hudson being shot. John didn't bother wasting time with a cab and ran all the way to the hospital with the 2 Holmes' alongside him. Lorelin had remained in a traumatic state and stared at the dull walls with empty eyes once they had been sent into a waiting room. The doctor held his head in his hands, thinking of how they could possibly fill such a void in their lives, for Mrs. Hudson was such an incredibly significant portion of each day. The detective, on the other hand, felt heartbroken. One of the few people who cared enough to get close to him was gone forever and he had no idea of how to cope with such a situation.
"Sherlock?" John's voice quietly asked in a broken tone.
Blue eyes met the doctor's gaze tentatively.
"You okay?" He continued.
"No." Sherlock mumbled loud enough for the other two to hear.
