The Cab Ride To Baker Street

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Hannah smiled as she walked out the doors of St. Barts hospital and hailed a cab. She was still smiling as she climbed into the cab. She stopped smiling when she remembered where she was going and why. Again, she thought to herself, Really? My whole life story?

"221B Baker Street," she said to the driver.

"Ah, got a case for Mr. Sherlock Holmes, then?" the Scottish cabbie said.

"No," Hannah said, a bit taken aback by this stranger talking to her. She was also confused about what he was asking. People went to Sherlock for cases? "No, just a friend," she said completing her sentence.

"A friend, eh? Sherlock Holmes doesn't have friends!" the driver insisted.

"Really?" Hannah asked the driver sarcastically but also curiously.

"Nah, he being a sociopath and all," the cabbie answered.

"A s-sociopath?" Hannah now was a bit scared to meet him. She was shy in general, but being around people who didn't like people was the worst.

"He's not a sociopath!" she objected. "My dad's his best friend!"

"Oi! Your dad John Watson, then? What's your name?" the driver cried.

"I'm not comfortable sharing information like that with strangers," Hannah said.

"Lass, if you are who you say you are, then you're going to be famous one day! Soon, the whole world will know your name! Especially if you go about hanging around with that Ms. Viola! You and her seem to be the next generation Holmes and Watson."

All Hannah could do was sit there and nod, whereas inside, all she could think was, I don't want to be famous. I'm happy the way I am.

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