Mirrors: A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter 8

Chapter 8: I Meet the Cats of Hell and Their Owner

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Even though she said she would be here, Sadie was absent the next two days of school. No, I wasn't worried about her.  I didn't even think about her.

Alright, that's sort of a lie.

Ever since Wednesday night (or was it Thursday morning?), I've been stressing over our little midnight meeting. Skateboards, vending machines, weird families... Nothing was making sense. She was completely confusing.

Any sane person would have long since quit trying to be friends with her. She was rude, weird, and she never explained anything. Sadly, though, all of this just made me even more curious about her and her life.

It was extremely frustrating.

I secretly kept hoping that she would show up for class on both Thursday and Friday. I was dying to know about the skateboard and the mysterious person using said skateboard, but no such luck.

I didn't have her phone number and she didn't have mine, so it wasn't like I could call her. Not being able to have contact with her also meant that we couldn't work on the project together on Saturday, which was bad, seeing as it was due the following Monday.

Hannah tried to cheer me up at lunch on Friday, but it didn't really work. When she found out that my bad mood was caused by one Sadie Hooper, she erupted into a fit a giggles that attracted far more attention than I would have liked. In between the squeals of laughter, she kept spluttering out something about how 'Sadie and Liam are, like, so totally in love, OMG!’ and so on. Seriously, though, she actually said ‘OMG’.

In a haze of anger and embarrassment, I jumped up from the lunch table and ran as fast as I could on crutches to the library. I grabbed a random book from the shelf near my favorite arm chair and cracked it open, though I could hardly concentrate. My head was too full of thoughts. I turned the pages without reading the words.

I was about halfway through the pages of the novel when I felt my mobile phone buzz against my leg. I fished it out of my pocket.

Flipping it open, I discovered I had a text from an unfamiliar number. I opened the message and read it.

615 TARDIS DRIVE, Saturday @ 9 AM. Need to work on project.

-SH

I had to read it three more times before I understood the message. Rolling my eyes, I quickly typed back:

That's four houses down from mine. How did you get my #?

-Liam

Almost immediately after I sent it, she replied:

I have my methods.

-SH

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I woke up bright and early on Saturday morning, which roughly translates to 8:45 AM. I could have slept an hour or two longer, but my insistent alarm clock wouldn't shut up. After a quick shower, I dressed and entered the kitchen on my crutches.

Dad was sitting at the table, as always, calmly eating a piece of toast and reading the crime section of the newspaper.

"Morning, Dad," I said cheerily, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. He looked up in surprise.

"Well," he said through a mouthful of bread and jam. "You're in a good mood this morning." He swallowed. "What's up with that?"

I shrugged my shoulders and poured Cheerios into a bowl. "I'm going over to a friend's house to work on a project today." I dumped some milk on top of my cereal and sat down across from my dad.