I Don't Love You

by socially-awkward-butterfly

First things first, it was /not/ love at first sight. Hell no. Helena was repulsed by him, she was working her butt off to bring him down, and then she gets kidnapped. By him. Who is convinced they're meant to be. And Moriarty doesn't like to share what he thinks is his. He's one of the 'if I can't have her, no one can' types. So this is not love. This is survival.

1. I'm Not Okay

(Helena's POV)

No. This is useless. If the Great Sherlock Holmes couldn't decipher this, how am I supposed to? I just graduated bloody high school! This code is impossible.

Frustrated, I throw the papers carelessly on my desk. Yes, my desk. Dad works at Scotland Yard, he managed to get me an internship last summer. Now, I'm officially a police officer. Which I like. I get to bring down the sick bastards who cause harm to others. What I don't like is how I'm always the one to deal with Sherlock bloody Holmes, the most annoying git the world has ever produced. He's an okay guy. When he's not on cases.

See, I'm the only one who Sherlock thinks isn't an idiot. Probably because I graduated two years early and then made it directly onto the police force. But that means I get stuck dealing with him when he comes marching onto a crime scene, calling Dad an idiot for missing something (that's frankly pretty clear to me most times, but does anyone ever listen to Helena?).

The latest thing he's done is get me to try to track down Moriarty. The Moriarty. The very Moriarty who's committed hundreds of crimes and never gotten caught once. He was apparently behind the cabbie case, but we haven't heard anything from him since. Yes, Sherlock, brilliant idea. Leave tracking down the world's only consulting criminal to the sixteen year old.

Sighing, I push my fringe out of my face and lean back slightly in my chair. Coffee. I need coffee. Like, right now. I get up and walk down to the morgue of St. Bart's - strange place to go for coffee, but I need to consult Sherlock and he can usually be found there.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, gotta find Sherlock," I mutter, peeking into the morgue. No one. Labs? I turn and walk back that way. I knock before entering. Sherlock is staring intently at a microscope with a pair of trainers and John next to him. Molly stands in the corner, looking awkward as always. I give a slight wave.

"Hey, Sherlock-"

"Not now, John."

"Yeah, I'm not John, Sherlock," I say tiredly.

"Then who are you?"

"Maybe if you just bloody paid some attention to me for once, you'd know it was Helena!" I have known Sherlock for a large portion of my life. It was not until I started working at the Yard he knew I existed. I feel invisible most times. Not many people notice me.

"...Who?" I toss my hands in the air.

"THAT'S IT! I can't do it anymore! Let someone else deal with you, I'm certainly not anymore!"

"What are you talking about," John asks.

"At the Yard... They pick one unlucky person to deal with this git. It's me because Sherlock doesn't insult my intelligence on a daily basis but... I can't do it anymore. He keeps giving me work he wants me to do, and I've actually got a paying job, believe it or not, and it's starting to interfere with that. So, Sherlock, you can continue your search for Moriarty by yourself. Also, I could not decode those papers because I am not a professional cryptographer."

"Pity, Helena. You actually had potential." He still doesn't look up. I shake my head and walk out after waving to John and Molly. On my way out, I almost run straight into someone. I instead run into the water fountain. Nice job, Helena, this is why you graduated high school two years early. I start to apologize, but his hand flies up to his mouth and his eyes are widened out of horror.

"OhmigodIamsosorryIdidn'tseeyouohthisismyfaultareyouokay?" I shrug it off.

"I'm fine. It's alright, I'm used to bumping into things. No worries, it's all good." Except for some nasty bruises that'll be left behind. If dad sees those, he might think I've been up to some...bedroom activities. Which I haven't. He holds a hand out.

"I'm Jim. I work in IT. Do you work here? I don't think I've seen you around." I shake hands with him.

"Helena. No, I don't. I work down at Scotland Yard, new officer. I just graduated high school."

"Oh! You look a bit young, I would've guessed sophomore year."

"I graduated two years early. Anyways, I've got to go back to work." I jog back, knowing Dad will be pissed I left. Something seems strange about this Jim. No one ever notices me, and I'd assumed no one ever will.

First chapter is a bit sucky, but plese just stick with me here. I swear, they get better.