CH. 1
John Watson strode down the hall, lab coat on, clipboard in hand. He scanned through his list, excited to find his next patient was a regular, and she was one of his favourites.
"Hello Bowie!" he said in a sing-songy voice as he stepped in to the room. He looked at her, his cheer slinking away. She was much skinnier, and her once tight jeans were growing baggier. Her face was paler, and the dark circles under her eyes were increasing. She was doing exactly what he didn't want her to do. She was dying.
"Hello Dr. Watson!" the teen replied, still as chipper as the day she had first come in. They had been on a first name basis for quite some time, but she felt it rude to call him John. He was her elder after all.
"How have you been feeling lately?" He didn't want her to answer that. He was too fond of her.
"Well, I've been feeling fine, but I know I'm not. I'm not doing well." She managed, her mouth still split into a grin.
"Dear god. She is so tough. She's dying, and she's still being a wise ass" John thought. He only smiled.
Bowie continued. "You know what a fan I am of you and Mr. Holmes' work. I was wondering if I could meet him. It would mean the world to me"
"Of course. He needs to get out of the house. How about Friday night at 6?"
"Thank you so much! My dream has come true!"
John had known Bowie since she came into his office 2 years ago. At the time, she was a 13 year old with an attitude who was not afraid to speak her mind. The only thing that changed was her age. The reason they had become such close friends was the blog. She had recognized him from the photo under the "About me" portion. She claimed she was clever, and then proceeded to analyze a nurse. She was clever. And she was tough. Both of her parents were dead, she lived in a children's home, and she had leukemia, but she was still happy as ever. Bowie was Sherlock, just in a young girl form.
CH. 2
Friday night a quarter to 6, Sherlock was dragged against his will out of 221b and into a cab.
"Must I go? I was incredibly close to solving that murder John!" he complained, snarl on his face.
"Yes Sherlock. I think you'll enjoy meeting this girl. She's very clever. "
"Clever! But she's a child! I hate children."
"She's 15! Nearly an adult." John said defensively. "Besides, she's a big fan of your work."
"Fine." Sherlock said, turning to stare out the window.
"You are required to talk to her Sherlock. At least 100 words, do you understand? Ah, here we are. Wait here, and try not to be to intimidating. Please?"
"Hmph!" Sherlock sniffed, turning his coat collar up.
John returned several minutes later with pen on his hand and the girl in tow. Sherlock analyzed her. "Little food, poor sleep, stressful life. She has very few outfits. Just that and another one, and this one is the better of the two. She has a scar on her cheek, most likely because her parents were abusive. It looks almost like a knife wound. Probably why she lives here."
The door opened and the overhead light came on. The young girl stepped in, and John took the passenger seat.
"Hello Mr. Holmes! I'm Bowie! I'm an enormous fan of you and Dr. Watson."
"Charmed." He replied, giving her a dangerously cold stare. She