Hello! So, this is my first story ever! I'm super excited and I've already pre-written it, so I should have more chapters soon! I hope you all like it, don't hate me! D:
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Sherlock. I wish I did, but sadly I don't.
It was never going to be an ordinary day. The day started like normal. Waking up to brightness. The light bursting out of the blinds. She winced and dragged herself off of the small mattress that lay on the floor of her ordinary room in her ordinary house. Well, her house wasn't ordinary. It was a flat. Her mother couldn't afford anything else.
It was small and had a fantastic view of the wall of the building next to theirs. It smelled of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke. The couch in the front room was tattered and destroyed, making it look like they had a dog that wasn't trained. She quickly got dressed in jeans and an old jumper. She brushed her hair once and peeked out of her bedroom door. She could hear the soft snores coming from her Mother's room, which smelled worse than the already cigarette smoke infested house.
She walked out of her room, not worrying about any sounds she makes. Her Mother is sleeping, she knows her mother is a heavy sleeper and is probably sleeping off the alcohol she had the night before. She grabbed a not too bruised apple from the fridge and headed out.
London was a beautiful place, in her mind. She pretended that everything was so magnificent, when in reality, it really wasn't. She wanted to think that her life was somewhat satisfying, but it was hard for her because when she takes off the mask, she is alone. She's been alone most of her little life. Her father left when she was five, she doesn't remember him, but her mother only took care of her for a couple of years after that. Then she got into drinking, which lead to other ridiculous things.
Margaret's intelligent. More intelligent than the average human. She figures out things quickly. In school, she would always know answers to the test. She would know how people feel and think, by their expressions. She could solve a puzzle very quickly. She got straight A's throughout her schooling years. Not that it mattered though, her Mother didn't care. She didn't have a life where she got home and her Mother is gleaming while she tells her about her day. Not once.
She already finished university and has a major in forensics. She liked that kind of stuff. Every now and then she would walk by a crime scene and count all the things they've gotten wrong. She's thought many times that she could get a job and join the work that she liked, but she stopped thinking when she remembered that she can't do it. She just can't. It has to do with her Mother, expense, and expecting more. She didn't want that to happen.
Nowadays she walked around London, over thinking and occasionally grabbing a coffee. She spent most of her time in the park, where she speculated people's lives with just a glance.
Tourists were always interesting, she deciphered whether they were visiting family or going on a vacation just by how big their bags are. What sort of climate they are used to by looking at their reaction to the weather. Did they pack sunscreen? Are they wearing a big coat? Do they have sunglasses on the rim of their shirts, if they do, they are probably used to that and they live where the sun always shines. If it's fall, what area is sunny? Are they foreigners? What language? What lifestyle? It was all to be figured out with a few seconds of calculating in her brain.
It scared her sometimes, but it also excited her. Her mother knew of her talents and hated them. She rarely talks to her mother, so her mother doesn't realize that her talent has grown more powerful with age. What would she think now? That's part of the reason why she didn't want to join forensics or be a detective. Her mother would hate it, her being smart all the time. But why should Margaret care? Her mother ignores her anyways. This question has been on Margaret's mind for quite some time.
She pushed the thought out of her mind. She didn't want to think of her future, not now. She was going to go to the park like always, but she didn't feel like it today. She walked down streets, by shops, and occasionally glancing through the shops windows. She pulled her old wallet out of her bag. Only twenty pounds. She frowned and put it back. She needed the money for groceries. She only had a limited amount.
She went to the market and purchased pasta, fruit, and any other filling foods she can find. Her mother rarely ate at home, well, she rarely ate at all. She would get drinks and occasionally dinner bought by some men at the bar. Sometimes, if a man was good enough, her mother would bring them home. It disgusted Margaret.