There was a girl, alone in a train station. It was as though she was invisible to those around her. People were always in a hurry, so she understood why no one had asked her what she was doing alone. Or maybe no one asked her because she was an 'undesirable'. Homeless. She watched the liveliness from the corner of the station, waiting for the train. But she didn't plan on boarding it. It was time to execute something she had been planning for a very long time.
"Perhaps" She muttered to herself, through her thick scarf "if im quick enough, they wont notice." She knew she wasn't thinking straight. But she didn't care. "Six years of loneliness." She put her hand in her pocket, shuffling around for something. Finally, she pulled out an old, dirtied piece of paper.
Your name is Nova.
You are 11.
You are from America.
You are alone.
A loud sound came from the other side of the station. It was the train and it was time. "Last stop." Nova said, only because it sounded like good last words. She felt empty as she walked closer to the tracks and the drugs were to blame. Everything was slow. The people, the train, even herself. She wished time would go faster, so she could get this over with. It wasn't as one would expect, dying. Or the moment before dying, at least. You'd think thoughts rush through your head, your heart beats quicker, and even if you're ready, you're scared. That wasn't how it was for Nova. But it could be that she was just a special case. She didn't really care.
She stood at the edge now, staring blankly at the place where she would fall to. The train started rolling again, the conducter must have been unaware of her presence and this was not new. You get used to being invisible after six years.
A hand grasped hers. She turned around, very quickly. Everything was distorting, shifting this way and that. The person who had a hold of her hand had tired eyes. The kind of eyes that have seen too much. This was all Nova could process at the moment. He was talking, very quickly, in a concerned tone. The train was passing. "What a waste of time." She mumbled. The station was spinning now, round and round and round. Maybe if she let go of the strangers hand, she would fly off, right into the side of train. None of her thoughts were making sense.
He was still talking. How long had he been talking? It seems like ages, an eternity, an eon. She still couldn't process what he was talking about, much less why his tired eyes looked so concerned. Her vision was blurring now. The corners fading to a black. "Oh dear..." Nova said, right before she passed out.
There was a detective, alone in his flat. He laid on his couch, very stiffly. "Bored" He moaned, as he did at times like this when there was nothing to do. He had gone through so many cases, and of course they all looked boring. He really wanted a cigarette at the moment. Everything was quiet in the flat. His companion had left to get groceries and there was no telling where the landlady might be. The detective laid very still, eyes closed, and listened.
The landlady was downstairs making tea. He could hear her know. But where was his doctor friend? He looked at his watch. He should be home in seven minutes. Probably had a go at the self-checkout machine. But when the detective heard the door downstairs open two minutes and fourteen seconds later, he was a bit surprised. That emotion quickly went away as he listen more carefully. His friend was carrying something a bit heavy, but not to heavy to be much of a burden, definitely not groceries, he would hear the bags rustling. Sounded like he was having trouble getting up the stairs. He quickly deduced that John was carrying something living.
"Sherlock!" A yell came from downstairs "Help me with this bloody girl!"
Sherlock very quickly jumped up and made his way over to the staircase. "New girlfriend, John?" He said sarcastically. He was greeted with a death glare. "You don't know who she is." He stated as he grabbed her legs to help John carry her up. "Yeah! Obviously not." After a minute or two, she lay on the couch. John looked her over. He listed off her symptoms one by one. "Withdrawal." The doctor finally said, flatly. "Obviously." Sherlock stated from his chair. "So, you see a homeless woman, high and possibly dying, and you decide to bring her to the flat instead of a hospital?"
"If she's homeless she obviously doesn't have money for a hospital."
"We don't have time to turn this into an emergency room."
"Sherlock. She was about to jump in front of a train. I didn't know what else to do."
"Let me see her."
The detective strode over to the girl.
"No self-inflicted scars, bruises on her arm from drugs, she's not suicidal, shes just high."
The men went bickering on and on. It didn't stir Nova from her unconscious state. Eventually both men came to a conclusion. They would keep her here until she woke up, which wouldn't be long according to Sherlock, and when she did wake up, they'd make sure she was alright and send her on her way. After all, they couldn't save everyone.