In the rain, in London, with no family. Such is the life of a social reject.
I wander the streets, looking for a place which might be able to take me in. I ring doorbells, asking to spend the night, but people yell at me to bugger off.
I reach Baker Street, walking along with my small-sized suitcase. I find a house with lights on: 221b Baker Street. I walk up to it and ring the doorbell, and about half a minute later, a man in a jumper answers the door.
"Hello, we don't want whatever you're sell- Oh, who are you? What are you doing out in the rain at this time of night?" He asks, holding the door open and looking at me as if I was a lost puppy.
"I'm Maya, I'm looking for a place to stay for the night," I answer, pulling my suitcase closer to me.
"And how old are you, Maya?"
"Twelve," I say. Hopefully he'll let me come inside, I'm soaked and the wind isn't helping.
"Here, step inside, I'll get you a towel," the man says, shutting the door behind me and walking down a hallway. I stand right in front of the doorway, shivering and waiting for him to come back.
I look around and see a fireplace, a couch, a tv, a hallway, and a set of stairs, leading up to a room with a closed door.
The man in the jumper comes back with a towel and a set of pyjamas in hand, he sets the pyjamas on the couch and gives me the towel.
"Dry yourself off, you're soaked. Do you want tea? Hot chocolate?"
"Tea would be great, thanks."
"Okay, I'll make some. By the way, my name's John," he says, taking my suitcase for me and setting it down by the fireplace. He then walks through a door to what must be the kitchen, and I try to dry myself off. I first dry my face and hands, then I rub the towel through my hair.
I wrap the towel around my shoulders, walk towards the fireplace, and hold my hands out in front of it, rubbing my fingers together. I feel the warmth spread across my hands and I smile.
John walks into the room and I turn around, he's holding two mugs of tea and he gives me one. He sits down on the couch and motions for me to do the same, so I sit down and sip my tea.
"So, Maya, why were you out in the rain? I notice you're not from here," he says, obviously referring to my slight American accent.
"My family... We went on a vacation... I guess they decided I was too much trouble for them... They left me outside the hotel, flagged down a cab, and drove away," I say, looking at my feet, miserably. John looks at me sympathetically and sets his tea down on a coffee table in front of him.
"It's okay, you can stay with us."
"Really? You're absolutely sure?" I ask, surprised at his unbelievably kind offer, I put my tea down and look at him. Except, what did he mean by "us"? He must have a wife...
"Yes, really, I can't just shove you back out onto the street."
"Oh my god, this is so amazing! Thank you so much! I thought I would have to go to an orphanage," I say, beaming at John.
"You can have the guest room, it's down the hall and to the left," he says, standing up, taking the pyjamas and my suitcase, and heads down the hall. I follow him, still holding the towel.
John opens the door and walks into a medium sized bedroom, he then sets the pyjamas on a bed and my suitcase next to it.
"Here you go, the guest bedroom, make yourself at home!"
"Thank you so, so much! I can't thank you enough!" I say, looking around the room, with its Victorian style dresser and wingback chair. It's perfect.
"No problem, I've just got to go talk to Sherlock about this. You can put the pyjamas on, I know they're a little big, but they'll do." He picks them up and hands them to me.
"Thanks, and who's Sherlock?" I ask, taking the flannel pyjamas.
"He's my flatmate. Sherlock's not used to guests, but I'll talk to him about you," he says, leaving the room and closing the door behind him, and I hear him walk upstairs.
I lay my suitcase down on the floor and open it up, taking out a dry pair of underwear and a bra. I then take my soaking wet clothes and shoes off, and put the underwear and pyjamas on. I have to roll the sleeves up since the pyjamas are obviously John's.
Sitting down on the bed, I look through my suitcase, taking out the wet clothes and laying them on the hardwood floor. I'll wash them later.
I find my iPad, wrapped in a bundle of dry clothes in the middle of my suitcase.
"Dammit, it's out of battery..." I say, laying my iPad on my bed. I can't find my charger, I must've left it at the hotel. Slightly annoyed, I reach for my phone, which is in my coat pocket.
"Yesh! It's dry!" I exclaim, trying to turn it on, it's obviously out of battery. I swear and drop my phone on the bed.
Getting up, I open the door, pick up my iPad and phone, then walk out into the living room, where John is setting a sandwich on the coffee table.
"I thought you might be hungry," he says, "it's just got marmite, ham and cheese on it, I didn't know what you'd like."
"No, it's good, I'm allergic to raw veggies anyway," I say, walking over, sitting down on the couch and taking a bite out of the sandwich. Marmite, oh how I missed it, and I was so hungry.
"Allergic to raw vegetables? Must be a protein thing, " he says while sitting down next to me and turning the TV on. He flips through the channels for a while then pauses.
"Do you want to pick something?"
"Do you get Star Trek or Doctor Who or anything? Wow, I sound like such a super geek..." John laughs and starts flipping through the channels again.
"I'll see what I can find."
"Thanks, by the way, thanks for the sandwich," I say, while eating it. John passes a channel with Supernatural on.
"Hold on, I like Supernatural," he stops at that channel and puts the remote control down.
"Really? Never met a twelve-year-old who liked Supernatural."
"I like it, the whole hunter thing is pretty cool," I say, finishing my sandwich and pulling my knees up to my chest. He notices my iPad and phone laying on the table.
"Do you need to charge those?" He asks, picking them up and holding them. I nod and John walks to the side of the room, near a desk with a laptop on it, unplugs an Apple charger and walks back over. He goes to the wall nearest to where I'm sitting and plugs it into the wall. He passes me the cable and I connect my iPhone.
"Thanks," I say, turning on my phone. I put it down on the coffee table.
"So, your parents left you?"
"Yeah, I was wondering why they planned a vacation right-smack in the middle of spring break. I guess it was just a ruse to get rid of me, I also think that's why they made me pack all of my stuff, everything I cared about..."
"Then they're not good parents. You can stay with me and Sherlock."
"Really? Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"It's no problem, really. What did you expect me to do, hand you over to an orphanage?"
"My parents told me to go to an orphanage, but when would I follow the advice of the people who left me on the street?"
"Well, it's a good thing you came here," he says, yawning.
"Hmm... What time is it?" I ask. It must be pretty late since I arrived at about two am. He looks at his watch.
"Three thirty-two, you should probably go to bed, you've been up almost all night," he says, getting up.
"Sounds good," I yawn, unplugging my phone, picking up my iPad and walking to the guest room.
"Goodnight, John."
"Goodnight, Maya," he says, turning off the TV, the lights and walking into what I suppose must be his room. I enter the guest room and plug my iPhone in to the nearest electrical outlet. I turn the lights off and go to bed, ignoring the pile of soggy clothes I left on the floor earlier. Slowly, I drift off to sleep.