Door opens, cold air blowing in. Smells, sounds; ships, wind, roasting meat, stench of ale. He walks in, looks around. Closes eyes.
Blue scarf dark coat hair tousled. Tired, running – on the run? Funny hat in hand, makes me laugh to see it, two fronts – why? Mistake, weapon, Frisbee…thoughts coming too fast. Funny hat. Focus on that. My laugh makes him turn and look.
Eyes dark, haggard – full of secrets, hurt. Meet mine. He sees.
He sees like I see.
This day has been too long.
I have not been trying as hard to hide these past several days; I am confident that I am far enough away from those who know me to remain undiscovered. I doubt even Moriarty could reach me here.
The sign for the inn catches my eye and I hurry under the awning. The awful hat comes off, though I must admit it comes in handy to keep the rain out of my eyes. And, though I am less inclined to admit it…it remind me of home. I shake it off carefully and step inside.
The innkeeper – unhappily married, wife is having an affair. Has two cats he is trying desperately to keep hidden from the street vendors outside. Waitress, drinking on the job, problems with her father – no, mother. Father dead. Mother responsible? Customers from everywhere – red hair, smuggling; green shirt, claims to be a pirate. Lying. Man in the Stetson taken by the green shirt. Woman in vest trying to chat up Stetson, failing –
My head aches; too much, all at once. Too long of a day, head already hurting from the pressure of the storm. I close my eyes and just breathe, but I cannot block out the noises.
A giggle from where there was quiet. I open my eyes and look.
Blue dress, dark ragged hair, no makeup. Unworried about appearance, odd in a woman her age, lovely but unkempt. Sitting in the shadows, not drawing attention, none of the men in the room are watching her. Haven't noticed she is there? Intentional or accidental? Hiding or quiet? No jacket, strange in this weather…bare feet?
I blink. Look at her face. Meet her gaze, watching me, eyes laughing but darkness underneath. See that she inspects me just as I have her. See her gaze linger on my hat, hear her giggle again.
I don't know whether to curse Lestrade or thank him.