Orphan on Baker Street

Twenty Third: Paper

The hospital stay was brief but longer than expected. I was originally in there because I had passed out from "burning energy with no energy to burn off"; I hadn't eaten at all and ran, probably, 2 miles. My doctor added days because of the cancer they found. She told me to stay hydrated and rested; I have another appointment with her next month to see the cancer's progress - if any - and discuss options.

Now, I sit in the solitude of my own room with the door closed and a small, folded piece of paper in my hands. Moriarty left this under my pillow when he visited. Luckily for me, Sherlock and John are out dealing with him - without the aid of Scotland Yard - and can not interrupt me.

I finally unfold the paper and stare down at it. At first the contents don't register in my mind, but then I see:

853 Freeman Ct.

15th, 10pm

He wants me to meet him here. But why? This could be a trap... however, he did say I was valuable, so maybe I'm just going to help or something. What does Sherlock have against him anyway? He doesn't seem very intimidating - kind of creepy, but not intimidating.

The 15th is the day after tomorrow. That means I have 2 days to decide if I want to stay at home or sneak out to my possible death.

"Mickey," a voice says suddenly. I jump and crumple the paper up into a fist as the door opens. Sherlock pokes his head in. "What do you have there?"

"This?" I wave my fist. "It's nothing. What do you need?"

He keeps his eyes on my fist as he speaks. "There's a thing with you and Lestrade's boss tomorrow. Oh, and Mrs. Hudson is planning a surprise goodbye party for John. I never did understand those."

I give him a half shrug and say, "It's just an excuse to get drunk and tease people, like most parties; don't over think it. And what kind of thing?"

"A thing like: his boss wants you to come in and fill out an official report so Lestrade can get suspended or something."

"What if I don't want to?" There's a pause.

"Why wouldn't you want to?" Sherlock opens the door a little further and leans on the frame. "He sexually harassed a minor; he's an alcoholic, which is bad for a cop; and he's just generally unstable."

"I'm generally unstable," I snap at him. He frowns in further confusion. "I provoked the harassment, and it's because you told me to. Both the fact that his actions were provoked and that I was told to provoke them brings up a completely different topic that doesn't get anyone anywhere, except maybe in debt for lawyers." I take a quick breath, not used to speaking that quickly.

After a moment, he seems to relax and shrugs. "Your choice," he says nonchalantly before walking away. I frown in frustration.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" I ask, moving to my doorway. He continues to walk down the hallway and past the corner into the living room. I sigh and roll my eyes.

There's a knock on the door as I go into the foyer and see Sherlock turn around at the bottom of the steps. He walks over to open it, and I glance around his shoulder to see who it is.

Sherlock begins to laugh suddenly, and my eyes widen slightly. Is that Lestrade?

"I just want to talk to her," he says. He looks and sounds very tired and ultimately done with the entire situation. "Please," Lestrade adds as Sherlock chuckles over at me.

"Do you see this? He wants to talk to you. Maybe I should stay and make sure you two stay at least a foot away from each other," Sherlock jokes.

Neither of us find him funny, so he stares down at the ground to calm himself. Quickly, he looks back up to Lestrade and takes a step closer.

"I don't want to see you here again," Sherlock says.

"But if you could just-" Lestrade starts.

I interrupt. "Let him in already!" Sherlock glares at me, and I sigh. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"Then I'll be over here," he says, taking a seat on the stairs. I shyly walk over to the door where Lestrade still stands.

"Yes?" I say, pulling the sleeves of my sweater over my hands nervously.

"I just... I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking right when I did all that, and I was probably drunk during some incidences."

"Wait," I say suddenly, "you aren't just apologizing for that time your boss walked in?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, Mickey, I messed up before that. But I promise it won't happen again. I'm in a support group, and I just want to prove to everyone that I really am trying to get better." Lestrade looks into my eyes sadly, and I suddenly feel the need to apologize for playing with his emotions.

"I'm sorry, too," I say softly. My shoulders sag as I glance out past Lestrade, then focus back on him. "None of this was supposed to happen. I thought I was being clever, but I was jus-"

"He's done," Sherlock says from behind me. "You can close the door now. It's freezing." When I turn around, I see him walking up the stairs. He stops at the top and glances at me. "Well?! Close the door."

I look over at Lestrade, who looks at me. "Good luck at group," I say before closing the door on him. Then I walk back to my room and collapse on my bed.

After a while of just laying there, I unball my fist to see a crumpled and slightly sweaty paper. I am suddenly very eager and curious to see what Moriarty has in store for me.