Agent Chetiri

Chapter 16

Waiting is panful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.

-Paul Coelho

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It had been nine long months since her death.

Q tried not to think about this fact too often and focused on getting through the day, without thinking about Alexa. It was a tough feat and although there were moments where he would forget about it, there would always be something there to remind him of her. It could be anything really, but it was mainly the lack of her presence. She did rather small things, like making him tea and making him laugh, but without them, there was a sort of hollow feeling left inside of him. It would constantly remind him that she was gone.

Without her, the Q-Branch had become a bit quieter and Joy, Will, Ryan, George, and Michael all made a point to bring up any talk about Alexa as little as they could. Q himself had seemed to grow colder because of the whole affair and had removed her desk and any trace she had left in the office, as if it were a conscious effort to forget about her entirely. The only thing he had that she had left for him was the book.

Q still had no idea why she had written the word "banana" on the front cover nor why she written c2, c1, c3, c1, c3, c1. To be honest, he had merely glanced at it once when they were talking before her suicide and had refused to look at it after her death. He had kept the note that he had found on her grave that day and kept it locked away, along with the book. Both items sat in the drawer in his desk at the Q-Branch as remnants of a painful dalliance with a woman he had actually fallen in love with and he wished that he could forget about it entirely.

However, Q's life took a turn for the better as an unexpected break in the case regarding Alexa's death. During that time, he still had a small inkling of hope that he could not kill, as if he were awaiting some miracle to give him the answers and stable logic he craved and such a miracle finally came on an inconspicuous and rather unassuming October morning. It was an unprecedented event that had not arrived in the form of a letter. The news had not arrived by means of television, radio, or any social media, for that matter.

It had merely started with a visit to Baker Street.

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(October 16th, 2013- 11:19 AM)

Sherlock Holmes was officially bored.

It was only 11 in the morning and he was already in an officially declared state of boredom. Was there a valid reason for this? In the eyes of the mundane, probably not. There was a lot a person could do on a beautiful October morning like this, where the sun shone on the snow and cheerful passersby below. However, the hum drum did not interest him in the least and he struggled to think of something to pass the time. He had already completed the cases Lestrade had given to him and was stuck at home to idly sit around. Sherlock had already performed three experiments since he had gotten out of bed that morning and lost a card for something in the process (he couldn't recall which it was, nor did he care). He had argued with the television, talked to the air, and visited Molly at the morgue, all in a span of about five hours.

He was also more or less the only person here, since John was now living with his new wife, Mary. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson was off visiting a friend. There was no one to talk to except for the skull on the mantle, whom he had aptly named Yorick. He rolled over on the couch and let out a groan of frustration.

"What do I have to do to get a good case around here?" he grumbled. The man lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling for several minutes before hearing the doorbell ring. His ears seemed to almost perk up at the noise and he sat up. It had been a single ring with maximum pressure just under the half-second. In turn, he immediately knew what this person was here for.