Margaret

4 I could give a thousand reasons why

2/25/18
Sherlock and Margaret have been living together for about a month now, doing couple things, nothing too insane has happened just solving a couple murders here and there.
Margaret wakes up in the middle of the night, at about 1:15. Her blonde curly hair is a mess. She's curled up in Sherlock's arms. She looks up to him to see if his eyes are open and if he's awake too. She moves slightly and his eyelids flutter open. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you up I'm just worried about something." Margaret whispered. "What is it?" Sherlock replied. Margaret sucks in a breath and pauses for a moment. "I am overwhelmingly ordinary." She finally says.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you are so amazing. You're a genius, you can solve anything just by looking at it, and what am I? The random 20 year old girl who dropped out of college and is struggling to even keep herself alive. Why would you even spend time with me? You talk so much about how slow everyone is to you. Am I a burden? Does my stupidness annoy you? Why me? Why do you choose to love me?"
Sherlock looked at her and paused. And then replied.
"I love you because you are not ordinary. You are a light in a room of darkness. Your smile makes me happy, and you are one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. You helped me so much just by being in my life, and I don't know what I would do without you. Go to bed, get some rest. It's too late for you to be thinking like this."
Margaret looked at him and her eyes filled with tears.
"That's the longest I've ever heard you talk that wasn't you showing off. I love you" She said.
Sherlock hugged her tighter and buried his nose in her hair and they both fell asleep peacefully.

When Sherlock woke up in the morning, with the sun shining through the blinds, he noticed that Margaret was no longer in the bed. "She must have woken up early", he thought to himself. "Maybe she's making breakfast." He pulled himself up and off the bed and rubbed his eyes. He walked over to the door and picked up his purple robe that was sitting there. He put it on slowly, yawning, and then opened the door to the hallway. He was greeted by John making eggs in the kitchen. "Where's Margaret?" Sherlock asked, mid-yawn.
"I'm not sure. I haven't seen her. She probably went out for a run or to get groceries. God knows we need them."
"Alright, I'll call her soon and make sure, just in case."
Sherlock took his phone out of his robe pocket and speedials Margaret. It rings once and then John looks up. "Her phone is still in the bedroom." He said.
"What? Can you hear it ringing?"
"Yeah, she must've left it here."
"That's unlike her. Let's call Lestrade."
"Sherlock, no. She probably just forgot it. There's no need to call him if there's not at least a 70% chance that she's in danger."
"60%."
"Alright, fine. 60% chance that she's in danger. Use your fancy deducting magic and calculate the percentage of danger that she is in." John said, still standing in the kitchen with his hands on his hips. Sherlock looked around a bit, he thought that if there was an intruder, they covered up their tracks very well. John continued to make eggs.
"50%. You're right I'm probably just overreacting."
"Yeah, see, she's fine. She'll come back in an hour or two. She's probably just off on a jog. Or visiting her garden."
Sherlock ignored John and went back to his room to go back to bed.
Once Sherlock woke up again it was noon. He got up and walked into the kitchen once more. "Pearl?" He called out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There was no answer. "John?" He called again.
"Yep. I'm in here." John replied from the sitting room.
"Is Margaret back?" Sherlock questioned.
"I don't think so. What time is it?"
Sherlock checked his watch that was sitting on the desk. "Nearly noon."
"Oh god, she has been gone a while. Do you think we should call Lestrade now?"
"Definitely. Better safe than sorry."
"I'll call Mycroft first, he probably has surveillance on her. If she doesn't show up there, we know she's in trouble."
"Okay."
John dialed Mycroft and he picked up after two short rings. "John? What could you possibly need now?"
"We need to know if you have eyes on Margaret. She didn't come home this morning."
"Alright one second." In the background they heard voices and the sound of keyboards.
"Nope. It looks like we don't. That's very strange. I'd call Lestrade if I were you. Also, John, if she is in danger, keep an eye on Sherlock for me."
"Alright thank you Mycroft, I will."
Watson hung up and looked to Sherlock. "She isn't on Mycroft's radar. What do you suggest we do?"
"Call Lestrade. In the meantime we should split up and search her hideouts."
"Alright."
John goes into the kitchen to call Lestrade.
Sherlock grabs his coat and as he's leaving shouts "You get the gardens, I'll grab the flat, tell Lestrade to check the train station."
"Will do."
Sherlock races down the steps and out the door, without saying goodbye to Mrs. Hudson who is looking very confused. He hails a taxi and quickly says "1615 sunny lake Street" The taxi drives away swiftly and in the mean time Watson has phoned Lestrade and is now leaving for the gardens. He waves goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and then grabs the taxi after Sherlock's. When Sherlock gets out of his taxi he is face to face with Margaret's old flat "Pearl" he whispers to himself and walks up to the door. He jiggles the door knob and finds it stuck. After multiple attempts, he manages to unjam it. He slowly opens the creaky door and sees the bleak, grey wallpaper that Margaret had hated so much. He remembers when Margaret moved in to Baker Street, how her flatmates had all left, unexplained. He remembers how he practically flew up the steps when he knew Margaret was in danger and how he had carried her out that door just two months ago. Sherlock examines the dust that has collected on the rail to the stairs and carefully places his foot in the first step. "Pearl?" He calls once. "Pearl??" He calls again. He continues to climb up the stairs calling her name. Margaret has three hideouts. The flat, the garden, and the station. She goes to the flat when she is lonely or deppressed, she goes to the garden when she is happy or excited, and she goes to the station when she is angery or confused. She uses these locations to escape from the rest of the world as they are slightly hid away. Knowing that if Margaret had hid here, she would be in a deep depression, Sherlock tread carefully down the hallway. When he reached Margaret's old room, he slowly pushed the door open and couldn't help but see his worst fear. Margaret slumped against the wall like she was last time Sherlock was here. He shook the image out of his mind. It was too real. If he thought about it too much, it might come true. He found the room to actually be empty and he made one last round of the flat, searching any obvious places before he stepped outside again and called John. "I just checked the flat. No sign of her being there recently. How's the garden?"
"I just got here. So far looks empty. If I find anything I'll let you know." John then hung up the phone and continued up the hill that was Margaret's garden. Margaret's garden was a very private area in a park on the other side of London. She didn't go there very often, but when she did have the time, she made sure to breathe in the pure beauty of this little place she had made. A cherry blossom tree sat in the middle, at the peak of the green, grassy hill. Surrounding it was every flower you could think of. The dew made it look like the flowers were winking and sparkling at you. And in front of the blooming tree sat a bench. The bench was wooden and had an engraving on the center that read "I could give a thousand reasons why" Margaret came here for creativity and whenever she was having an art block. She grooms the flowers regularly and makes sure none enters her seclusive, small Haven. John took in this beauty and stood there, in front of the bench speechless. The whole area radiated a certain energy of tranquility and John had no idea how to process it. He slowly walked around the tree. Since it was such a small place, it was easy to see that Margaret was not there. He stood next to tree for quite a few minutes before he had realized that he zoned out. He snapped back and called Lestrade. "John?" Lesteade answers quickly. "Yes. No sign of her at the garden. Have you reached the station yet?"
"Not quite. We're having trouble finding the bloody place."
"Where are you right now?"
"Pine road, almost to the intersection."
"Alright, turn left and then two rights and it should be on your right. Sherlock hasn't found her in her old flat, so we'll probably just meet you there."
"Alright. I think I see it turning the corner. Talk to you later."
"Bye, Greg."
John then hung up the red button on his phone and slipped it back into his jacket pocket. He started walking back down the hill, one foot after the other, towards the front of the park.

Greg was driving the car with three police cars accompanying him on Pine road when John started calling him. His phone was on the dash and he looked at Donovan seated beside him before finally picking up the phone and answering.
"Alright. I think I see it turning the corner. Talk to you later."
The call ended and Lesteade looked over to Donovan and said "He says to make a left and then two rights and it should be on our right"
"Okay, just hurry up and get us there."
When Lestrade, Donovan, and what seemed to be the rest of Scotland yard arrived, they all crowded into a parking line on the side of the street and hot out of their cars. Greg was careful not to scuff his shoes as he opened the door and stepped out on to the asphalt. He and Donovan walked towards what they assumed to be what Sherlock and John were calling "The Station". Margaret had better be in here, because if she wasn't, she could be in serious trouble. Donovan was chewing gum and she looked to Greg, rolled here eyes, and then started walking into the underground train system. It was anandomed a long time ago and that was made apparent by the abundance of spidrwebs and dusty floors. All six of the officers carefully walked down the steps, hoping that they don't slip all the way down Into the almost complete darkness. The officers in the back reached to grab their flashlights and turn them on. Upon turning them on, you could make out the bottom of the stairs and some pillars and benches that remained on the platform. As the officers got closer to the platform and we're almost done receding the steps, the flashlights caught on a small piece of paper lying on the ground by the tracks. Donovan stopped and held out her hands to stop the other officers from moving forward. "I'm gonna see what that paper says. Nobody move." She then cautiously tried to grope her way through the darkness until she reached the paper and slowly leaned herself down to the cold, concrete floor. She picked I'll the dusty paper And unfolded it, noting it's size and color. It was bright blue and very small. On the inside was one sentence. "I'm not alone."