Orphan on Baker Street

Thirty Second: Case

I've been walking through this deteriorating subway tunnel for a few minutes. Sounds of happy voices get a little louder as I approach a turn that eminates a flickering orange light.

It smells like toilet water mixed with rotten food and multiple carcasses. My foot brushes up against a crushed beer can as I shyly peer around the corner and towards the sound. This is like some dystopian world - sort of. About 10 people in tattered and dirty clothing are scattered around a pile of what seems to be burning trash; some stand around it with their arms outstretched, and others sit in small groups against the wall or out in the open. Trash litters the ground, and to the right are subway tracks. The left wall is tattooed with colors, and I can just barely identify a door.

I let out a shaky breath and slowly walk over to a man that's staring at me. Maybe he knows my father; or maybe he's a killer...

"You know," he starts as he points a finger at me. "You look exactly like Holmes said. Long dark hair, 'average height'... and you've got my nose." The man taps his nose as if to show me proof, and I stare at it. My head tilts as I look at how it slopes down evenly before curling up slightly - like something Dr. Seuss would draw, but not as exaggerated.

"Are you my... father?" I ask quietly. My eyes are wide, and I assume I don't look as excited as I feel; my heart thumps wildly in my chest.

The man nods and grins happily, showing off yellow and slightly crooked teeth. "Yes, Mickey. I'm..." He trails off, looking me up and down with disbelief. Suddenly, he frowns. "I'm sorry."

"No," I say with a laugh. "No, do not be sorry. Seriously - it's fine. I'm fine!"

"Well, I'm glad to hear someone's doing fine around here," he says with a chuckle. We grin at each other. I'm steadily calming down, and I don't know how much happier I could be. Maybe Mrs. Hudson will let him move in with us.

"So, tell me everything. I want to hear all about what I missed out on. Do you have a boyfriend?" He frowns, switching gears quickly.

I grin still and shake my head. "I don't have a boyfriend... and, um, I'm not sure where to start."

"Start at the beginning, after I... had to go," he hesitates. "Let's take a seat." My father kicks some trash away from an area against the wall and gestures for me to sit. I lower myself to the ground, and he sits next to me.

"Well, I went to an orphanage, of course..." I take a large gulp. Should I tell him the truth or sugar coat it? "It was alright, at first..." I pause again. My voice cracks as I continue, explaining to him how the kids treated me and how I would go out to play the violin to earn some money; I tell him about Mrs. Hudson, and John and Mary and Sherlock; I tell him about the cancer and about Moriarty. All the while, his expression gets softer and sadder.

Then my phone buzzes. We frown at each other as I slide it from my back pocket. I have a new text from an unsaved number:

Meet me in front of SY.
-SH

"Who is it?" my father asks.

"Abreviations," I say absent-mindedly. "Wait, I mean, it's Sherlock. He wants me to, um... meet him somewhere." I look up at my dad, whose face looks very hollow in the dying glow of the trash fire.

"Oh, that's fine... It's fine," he responds. He stands up and holds out a hand to help me. I take it and pull myself up.

"I had a great time, though," I tell him with a smile. Is it too early to call him "dad"?

"Me too," he returns the smile. "I hope to see you soon?" He says it like it's a question, and I nod happily.

"Hopefully. Definitely." I bite my lower lip. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

He nods, and I turn to leave.

"Wait," he says. Then he points behind him at the wall with the basically hidden door. "That way's quicker."

"Thank you," I say softly. I walk quickly over to the door and jerk it open. There are stairwells on either side of me, and I realize where I am. Quickly, I go up the stairs on my left and hear the click of the door behind me as well as the busy streets ahead of me.

I hail a cab almost immediately after I exit onto the sidewalk. The driver takes me to Scotland Yard, I pay him, and then I get out of the car. Sherlock stands with his back to me, looking over at the setting sun.

"You've been out all day," he remarks as I approach. "You also smell like the subway." Sherlock spins around and glares at me. "Did you go to see your father?"

My mouth wobbles open and shut to try and answer him before I give up. "I tried to, but I couldn't find him... Why do you care?" I straighten in posture and scowl at him.

Sherlock sighs with an eye roll. "Many reasons. Come on." He turns around hastily, and I follow in his wake.

We enter Lestrade's office - without knocking - to find a woman with bushy hair standing before his desk. Lestrade sits behind it and glances over at us.

"Sherlock, thank you for coming," he says happily. He gives me a small smile before looking back at the woman, who looks at us. She wears a beige pant suit and a badge.

"Is this your girlfriend?" the lady asks.

"Why does everyone go straight to 'girlfriend'?" I ask, glancing over at Sherlock. "What about 'daughter'? Or friend?"

"Freak doesn't have friends. He's only got John, but that's just because John likes everyone," she says, leaning on the desk and smiling maliciously past me at Sherlock.

"Don't call him that," I snap.

"Yeah, don't," Lestrade says warily. "Let's just talk about the case."

I grin happily and take a seat in one of the chairs. Sherlock closes the door behind him and takes a seat beside me excitedly.