Ashes, Ashes

A World of Francescas

- c h a p t e r   t w o -

Emma never fully understood the idea of home - no matter where she went, she never felt as if she fit in well enough to stick to a certain place. There was no place that she loved in the same way she could love a person. Instead, she loved things that just happened to be in one specific place, and that one specific place was known as the flat at 221C Baker Street.

Of course, getting to 221C would require walking back 221A and 221B and most likely having to interact with the inhabitants of both. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad thing - she wasn't expecting a surprise party or anything of that sort, but at the very least she believed she'd have a decently kind welcome.

Mrs. Hudson was renowned for her kindness, and surely this would continue now that Emma had returned from the psych ward. While Sherlock was certainly not known for being nice - in fact, he was known mostly for the very opposite - Emma believed that there was a decent enough possibility he'd at least be tolerable. At least, that's what she wished for.

In order to get the nagging thoughts off of her mind, Emma decided to get Sherlock out of the way first. Chances were that if she didn't seek him out to say hello, he'd end up storming into her flat at three in the morning trying to harvest hair from her cat in order to solve some random case or perform an experiment. After all, stranger things had happened before.

With a forced bounce in her step, Emma made her way up to the flat's door and rang the doorbell. She had faith Sherlock would answer it, probably deciphering that she was not a client in some "magical" way. There was a strange sort of excitement blossoming through her, and she enjoyed it. In a way, she felt energised - something Emma hadn't really experienced it for long.

Finally, the door opened - but only a few inches. Emma could barely see in the flat, but sure enough, Sherlock was standing right there in front of her. She took in a deep breath to speak, but then felt it catch for a few moments. She'd just started to think about how long she'd been gone and now how it was all coming together once again.

But just as her thoughts started to collect, Sherlock's voice punctured them as if they were a balloon and all the air came rushing out.

"What are you doing here?" he said, nearly in a monotone.

"Well, I'm back. Back from the psych ward."

Emma placed a smile on her lips, trying to make this more pleasant. She now began to process that she should've seen this coming, but of course that was somewhat of a difficult thing to do when she hated to think ahead.

"You're looking for some sort of congratulations, but you won't find it here," Sherlock said. "Now, if you excuse me, I-" He started to close the door, but she stepped forwards and grabbed it. Luckily, he opened it up once again - if you could call the few inches of space open.

"Are you being serious right now?" Emma asked, legitimately surprised. "I've been gone for weeks. I was almost dead. Don't you want to know anything about what's going on with me?"

"If I wanted to know anything about you, I would've already figured it out," Sherlock replied. Now I need to be helping John and Mary with their wedding."

"Oh, are they here?" Emma asked, trying to go on her toes in order to see over Sherlock's shoulder. She wasn't able to see anything more, but it was a nice thought to think she might be able to. "You know, I could help with wedding planning. I'm actually rather good at that sort of thing..."

"I don't think they'll want your help," Sherlock said. He wasn't consciously trying to make it sound cold, but that was precisely how it came out. But of course John and Mary wouldn't want her help - Emma had once dated (and cheated on) John, after all. Mary barely knew Emma, either. It simply would not work out. Still, Emma just wanted to talk to someone.