Life is but a Dream... (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

*The Blind Banker: Part One*

Chapter Twelve: A Friend

I stumbled into my seventh hour class like it was the edge of a cliff. It was the same thing, of course: desks in three vertical rows of six, with five horizontal rows of three on the side. I sat near the corner farthest from the door. No one sat behind me, so some of the usual verbal abuse is limited. As usual, I was the first one in the room, but that meant everyone who walked in after would see me...

It's been two weeks since the incident with Sherlock and that Cabbie, Jeff. I haven't trusted a single cab since. I wish none of that had happened... I hate it when people want me do something "because I'm gonna die anyway," because then it makes it harder to live. I haven't spoken with John since I yelled at him then ran off to my flat, only to be yelled at from my mom for coming home late. Lets just say red and rust don't make a good combination color.

I just took out my pencils and notebook like every other day, and waited for class to start. I was occupied with catching up on our novel when someone came up.
"Excuse me, but do you know where I can sit?" He asked, and I looked up.

He had on a green, red, and blue plaid button-down shirt. He reminded me of a cinema star, with his rounded square glasses and dark brown eyes. He had a small purple backpack and jeans with light brown boat shoes. I motioned with my thumb behind me to the empty seat.
"Thank you." He said, then half hopped over to it. I would assume that he didn't care about anything by his voice, but I also assumed that Sherlock was nice.

Later, during class, I was swallowed in the book when my teacher approached me.
"Aspen, do you think you could help him out? He's a new student." She asked, motioning to the guy behind me. I looked to see him in deep thought, staring at a bookshelf.
"I guess." I said, which brought him out of his trance.
"Wait what?" He asked.
"She's gonna help you get caught up." My teacher said, then walked off.

"Okay, so basically we're making this cube, with six essay questions about this novel-" I started, hoping this boy understood.
"What's your name?" He interrupted.
"What?" I asked, slightly annoyed that he interrupted me. "Anyway, they're not that hard if you've read the book, so it's just about theme and-"
"My names Wyatt. Wyatt Roman." He said, offering his hand. "Yours?"
"Can you please just listen?" I insisted. Goodness, simple instructions is just all I need to give. I honestly don't want to hear someone say-
"Heey Arsepen!" I heard next to us. Wyatt and I looked to see Dakota sitting there. My palm went into my face as I tried not to cry. One person. Just one person.

"Is she bothering you?" She asked, fiddling with her brown braid.
"Dakota, please." I begged. "Stop..."
"She's really annoying. You know she works with dead people, and is intent on being one. Just look at her arms!" She started. I could feel his brown eyes looking at me through the black frames on his face.
"Shut up!" I almost shouted, then put my materials into my backpack as the bell rang, releasing us. I bolted out of the door, tears running down my face. I ran far, and found myself outside a market. The cold outside started biting my nose, and I headed inside, only to bump into someone.
"Sorry-" he said, but I kept my face down as my bag had fallen. He helped me pick up my stuff, and I looked to see someone I've wanted to see for the past two weeks.

"Aspen!" John exclaimed, then noticed my tears. "Oh come on. I have to go get money from Sherlock. Come with." He said, putting his arm around my shoulder.
* * *
"About time, right?" John asked as we walked down the street. "Missed you. I wanted to call-"
"But you didn't. As always." I mumbled, trying to clear the current events from my head.
"Aspen, you could be a little more cheerful! Life with Harry isn't that bad!" He said.
"Yes it is, and you know it. You have no idea what I go through, not just at home, but at school. Can't we just get to your bloody flat already?" I ranted.
He looked at me as if I had broken the law. I realized I had said to much, as always.

Before I knew it, we were at the familiar door of 221B Baker Street, and went in. John was ahead of me, and when we reached the flat, I saw Sherlock sitting in a chair, reading a book.
"Took your time. Hello Aspen." he said, not even looking up.
"I didn't get the shopping." John confessed.
"What? Why not?" Sherlock asked, so concerned he looked up from his book.
"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip and pin machine, and was reacquainted with my niece, if you haven't noticed!" John vented.
Sherlock lowered his book. "You- you had a row with a machine?" He asked, not bothering to filter the second phrase.

"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" John mentioned.
"Take my card." Sherlock offered.
I went to the couch as John went to get Sherlock's wallet from the kitchen.
"You know, you could always go yourself. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." John said.
Boring stuff that they argue about, I suppose. The flat looked different from the last time I was here: it seemed more cleaner, but had a sort of vintage appearance to it. Before I knew it, Sherlock and I were the only ones who were in the flat.

"He did miss you." He said after a while.
"Why do people keep saying that? I'm not one to be missed. I've seen you, of course, at the hospital." I asked, taking out my homework.
"Exactly what I thought. Some people are just boring. All he talked about for the first two weeks was if you'd come back." He said. "Then he stopped, thank goodness- do you know where Johns laptop is, by any chance?"

"The bedroom. Password is, I think, Fort Knox?" I said, pretending I didn't hear what he said before.
* * *
"Don't worry about me, I can manage." John said, moments later as he came up the stairs. I looked up from my work to see him slap the shopping onto the table, then glance over to Sherlock.
"Is that my computer?" He asked.
"Of course." Sherlock said, starting to type on the keyboard.
"What?!" John exclaimed.
"Mine was in the bedroom." Sherlock complained, still not taking his eyes off of the screen.
"And what, you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John asked. When Sherlock doesn't reply, he looked at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and went back to work, but listened to their conversation.

"It's password protected!" John told him.
"Aspen told me. Not exactly Fort Knox." Sherlock said.
I heard him scoff then walk to Sherlock.
"Right, thank you." and slammed the computer shut, taking it away.
"Oh I need to get a job." John thought out loud. "Aspen-"
"I don't get paid at the morgue, if that's what you're implying." I interrupted.
"I need to go to the bank." Sherlock chimed, then stood and got his coat.
"Aspen, come on. There's no way I'm going to leave you alone again here." John said, and I had no choice but to go along.