Orphan on Baker Street

Fourteenth: Boxes

I go into Sherlock's flat with him in my wake. When I walk past the sofa, Sherlock suddenly pushes me down as he swings a leg over the coffee table.

"What are yo-"

"How's your shoulder?" he asks, planting his bottom on the coffee table. I sit up on the couch and run my fingers through my hair.

"It's the same. The pain meds didn't work," I say shyly.

"How long has it hurt?"

"Well, it's just been off and on pain since the orphanage. I didn't think much of it; I thought it was because of my violin playing," I reply with a half shrug, using my non-pained shoulder.

"JOHN," Sherlock yells, getting up from the coffee table. I watch him walk into the kitchen and stop at the end of the table. "John's at the park with the baby," Sherlock says. He turns to me and waves a piece of paper around.

Just then, Mrs. Hudson walks in. "John went out to the park with the baby," she says.

"Yes, I know that Mrs. Hudson; thank you. I just needed a doctor," he says as he walks over to his armchair.

Mrs. Hudson looks back and forth between us. "What's wrong?" she asks, her eyes landing on me.

"Oh, my shoulder's been hurting," I say. My eyes flicker to the movement behind her.

John walks in, carrying the baby.

"Does someone mind helping me bring in the empty boxes?" he asks. I tilt my head, and he hands over the baby. I adjust her on my hip as I stand.

"Why empty boxes?" I ask.

"Mary and I found a house! We were only here between houses," he explains with a smile.

"I didn't know 221b was temporary," I say as I glare over at Sherlock.

"Neither did I," he says, walking over to us.

"Sherlock, you've known for months," John says, irritation in his voice.

He shrugs a bit. "I never thought it would actually happen," he admits quietly. The two men stare at each other for a moment, and I realize they've been through a lot of everything you could ever be through with another person.

"So, uh, who's going to help?" John says suddenly. He slowly pulls his gaze from Sherlock's and looks at the other two in the room.

"I'd love to," Mrs. Hudson offers with a smile. She glances over to me.

"I'll watch the baby," Sherlock says from beside me. Everybody looks over at him quickly - except for the baby, who's preoccupied with my hair.

"Alright, then, Momma Sherlock," I say with a smirk. He smirks back and holds his hands out for the baby. I help him to position it in a cradle.

After a moment of trying to understand what I'm seeing, I turn to look at John. He and Mrs. Hudson seem to be in the same trance before quickly snapping out of it.

"Boxes," John says, as if reminding us all. The three of us march down and out of the flat. Apparently, he had a cab parked outside with the boxes in the trunk. The cabbie steps out of the car.

"Do you want me to help at all?" he asks politely.

"No, it's fine," John says with a smile. "But thank you." The driver just nods and goes to sit in the car.

"So," Mrs. Hudson starts, passing me a flattened cardboard box, "when are you two moving?"

"In about a month," John replies as he tucks the collapsed boxes under his arm. "We need some time to pack and transfer. It's closer to Mary's job, so it's about 30 minutes from here."

I make a mental note to throw a surprise going away party. Once we've gotten all of the boxes in - in one trip, might I add - John warms up a bottle for the baby.

Everybody sits in a half circle around the fireplace, but we don't all face it. John sets the baby in his lap.

"Tell John about your shoulder," Sherlock says, peering at me over a freshly made cup of still-steaming tea.

"Oh, um," I stutter, glancing over to John. "My shoulder's been hurting off and on for a while."

"Around when did you think it started?" he inquires.

"Maybe 3, 4 years ago," I reply.

"Does it hurt when you move your arm or apply pressure to it?"

I tilt my head a bit. "Yes, but I don't think it hurts because of me moving it or whatever."

He glances to the ceiling as if assessing something. "And pain medication only worked for about 5 minutes," I include.

"Depending on the medication, it probably wouldn't even kick in within 5 minutes," he says with a small smile. "I think that's the placebo effect."

Mrs. Hudson walks in from the kitchen with the baby's bottle. "Do you think I'd have to take her to get tests done and the like?" she asks worriedly. John sighs and takes the bottle from her.

"Yes. I think she needs an x-ray," he responds, adjusting a blanket over his shoulder while balancing the baby on his lap. I glance over to Sherlock to see he's standing by the window with sheet music.

"Is next week alright with you Mickey?" I hear Mrs. Hudson ask behind me. My head snaps toward her.

"As long as it's done," is my simple response.