The fog was thick and chilly in early-morning London. Few cabs drove on the streets; most of the residents of London were waiting for the pale spring sun to help burn away the fog. One cab, though, drove through the quiet London streets, its engine rumbling softly.
The cabbie's passenger sat silent in the back, dark blue eyes staring out the window into the fog.
"Is it always this foggy here?" the blue-eyed girl asked, her thick Irish brogue making the cabbie smile.
"Aye, lass," the cabbie replied, his own Scottish accent still as thick as when he had moved to London thirty years before.
The girl offered a quick grin in response to his, and then went back to staring out the window. A quiet silence filled the cab.
Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to its destination, and the girl opened the cab door as the cabbie went around to the truck to gather together her meager luggage – she carried only a medium-sized blue suitcase and a black case.
"Thanks," she said distractedly to the cabbie, eyes staring ahead at the door. The cabbie, nodding, climbed back into the cab, leaving the girl alone on the quiet street, the fog quickly muffling the cab as it disappeared.
Kaitlyn Maura O'Carroll gripped the handle of the suitcase firmly, trying to force down her apprehension and fear as she slung the case over her back.
Born in Kilkenny, Ireland and raised between there and Boston, Massachusetts by her single mother, Alaina, and her grandparents, Amelia and Rory O'Carroll, Kaitlyn grew up the oldest of her friends. Having graduated her senior cycle of secondary school, her mother could pose little argument in Kaitlyn coming here. What her mother had argued with her about was the fact that she had come to London with the sole purpose of meeting her biological father, whom she didn't know and who didn't know of her. Alaina had been adamant about not telling Kaitlyn, but Kaitlyn's grandfather Rory had told his daughter that if Alaina didn't tell Kaitlyn, then he would. Alaina had, unwillingly, relented, and Kaitlyn was told the story of her conception.
Alaina told the story calling her father John, refusing to name his last name. She told Kaitlyn about meeting him at college, going to a party together, having too much to drink and ended with her leaving the university to return to Ireland after learning of carrying Kaitlyn. Alaina had not wanted to let Kaitlyn go alone, but Kaitlyn's grandmother Amelia had told Alaina that this was something she knew Kaitlyn needed to do alone.
Readjusting her death-grip on her suitcase, Kaitlyn glanced down at herself. Her dark jeans were tucked into her tall brown boots; her dark gray trench coat covered her nice blue blouse. She ran a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down invisible sandy-blond fly-aways. The innocent piece of paper her mother had given her was tucked in her coat pocket, giving her father's name and address.
Taking a deep breath, thoughts flying through her head like leaf in a windstorm (what's he like – will he hate me – wonder what he looks like – wonder if he got married – God please save me - ), Kaitlyn sucked in another breath and started for the building's door.
She could clearly see, on the door, marked as if specifically for her, 221 Baker Street.
A/N: I apologize for the editing of Keegan/Kaitlyn's name; I found that 'Keegan' just wasn't working, so...yeah.
