It's Only Temporary (Sherlock fanfic)

Chapter 8 • This Boy. . .

The sergeant came to the window and scoffed. "What does that thing want now?" she groaned. She had a very harsh undertone in her voice. Without looking at her I showed her my phone screen. It was still going off from the impatient trench coat below. After a moment or two she shoved it back into my hands.

____________________
💬Unknown now
Zaira
____________________
💬Unknown 1s ago
Time
____________________
💬Unknown 3s ago
Tic
____________________
💬Unknown 4s ago
Tas
____________________
💬Unknown 5s ago
Fan
____________________
💬Unknown 6s ago
Most
____________________
💬Unknown 8s ago
The
____________________
💬Unknown 9s ago
Be
____________________
💬Unknown 10s ago
Would
____________________
💬Unknown 12s ago
Now
____________________
💬Unknown 13s ago
I still don't see your awful hair on the street.
____________________

"I think you need to get down there, sweetheart." I turned to see Greg giving me a knowing look. Why does it always have to be that look that makes me do everything?

With a sigh, I made myself go down and meet Sherlock on the other side of the street. As soon as I was about to ask why he asked for me, he threw the cab door open and climbed in. He didn't even wait for me to get in before he did. What a gentleman! Not.

The two of us sat in the cab for what felt like forever. He said nothing. I said nada. The cab driver drove silently. All of the car horns and screeching brakes reminded me a bit of New York, only there were a lot less people yelling out on the streets with a weird accent.

Didn't take long before we were at an old-looking building (as if London didn't have too many of those around here) with a light exterior. I was following his long coat in through the doors and I jaunt found myself in a lab. I know there's not much to talk about the trip, be we said nothing and I wasn't into really explaining the entire dashing process of going through hallways and doors and passed staff members.

After five minutes of absolutely nothing, I couldn't take it anymore.

"How did you get my number?" I asked taking a seat in the chair behind a microscope as he paced impatiently in front of the entry way.

He stopped to give me this weird look. "Why would that matter at the moment? And get out of my chair."

I glanced down in confusion. Does he have a name in this chair? Had he made some mark the claim it besides a butt print? Don't think so.

A short lady, an inch away from my height, with a slick ponytail and a lab coat slid in from the door. She gave Sherlock a shy smile before her gaze landed on me. Instantly her smile was wiped away to fear and caution. Her finger lifted to point fiercely at me. "Who's that?" she asked as she closed the door with the other hand.

Sherlock came over and briskly lifted me out of "his" chair before he traded us spots. "This is Detective Lestrade's niece--"

"Zaira O'Cain," I finished. My hand was held out for her to shake it. It took a moment's hesitation, but she took my offer and shook my hand. "I'm new. Just moved in last night. This guy just dragged me here without explaining why."

"But I did," he insisted. "I told you that I had places to be, people to talk to and we are getting tea after--well I am. You might get a whiskey. It's what most would do." The man took a quick glance before plucking a hair from my tender head. I yelled in pain but neither acknowledged it. The other girl was too busy staring at him to notice, I believe. From the look in her eyes, she looked intrigued as he adjusted the scope.