A Rose By Any Other Name | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 15

"And here's your bag. I packed a few clothes in there for you as well as your perfume and whatever else you'll be needing," Greg explained, giving a duffel bag to Aryn as she sat on her hospital bed.

She was so relieved when the nurse had informed her the day prior that she could go home. No more day time telly, no more needles and check-ups, and no more hospital food. It also gave her a chance to get away from her thoughts. Even if John and Greg were able to visit every day, she'd still have times where all she could do was sit and think about where her life was going.

It would be hard to adjust back to being in Manchester after everything she had just been through. It would be even harder leaving Greg behind knowing how much she missed having her around. The one person she truly felt bad about leaving, though, was Sherlock.

Then again, why should she? Not once did he come by to visit her. Not once did he phone to see if she was alright. He didn't even send a card of some type to wish her a fast recovery.

On second thought, though, those are not things that Sherlock would do for anyone—not even John.

As she changed her clothes and began to fix her appearance so she'd look like her usual self, she looked at her face in the mirror. Every time she had gone into that bathroom, she looked at her reflection. This time, it seemed like she was looking at herself with fresh eyes. The soft face of the detective she once was had disappeared, replaced by experience, hardship, and broken memories. It would be a tough blow to recover from. Once she did, she feared she would never be the same person.

She walked out of the bathroom, her hair pulled up into a bun. "Much better."

Greg smiled at her as he walked towards the door. "Shall we?"

Aryn smiled as she walked towards the door. Greg opened it and the two walked down the various hallways and out of the building in silence.

Outside, the hustle and bustle of the London streets were as they had always been. People walked past without paying the pair a second glace. Everyone was off doing some kind of task and attending to their own agendas, unknowing of what had happened during the last few months. Only a few would know had they been reading the newspaper or the tabloids (Aryn had walked past a newsstand where one of the magazine headlines read "Mrs. Sherlock Holmes: Dead or Alive?" She had shaken her head at it and walked away angrily).

The two took a cab to Aryn's apartment where a squad car was sitting outside.

"This is for your protection," he explained as the two walked along the front of the apartment building beside the car. "All of the targets have one or two of them posted outside. Just a precautionary measure."

"Well, you won't have to worry about me for long, Greg."

He stopped briefly as they stood outside the door to the apartment's lobby. "And why's that?"

"I'll be returning to Manchester tomorrow once I get my train tickets situated. The secretary at the other office is handling it for me."

"You don't want to stay here?" Greg asked, slight sadness outlining his tone, as the two walked inside and towards the elevator.

Aryn shook her head slightly as she watched the numbers above the elevator's entrance change in accordance to the floor it was on.

8...7...6...

"But I thought that maybe...well...you and Sh—"

"There's nothing to be said about Sherlock and I," Aryn quickly cut off, sending Lestrade a glare that bore a million daggers into his being.