The school bell rings as I finish scooping up my books and I am snatched by the crush of students shoving out the door. Caught in this tidal wave of people, a lot of them bump into me. I scowl and try to keep moving in the right direction.

In my next class, my assigned lab partner Michelle Stamford (a bit round, suffers from mild anxiety and uses food as an outlet, fits the stereotypes of "nerd" and "geek") starts asking me what it's like to live alone. I tell her simply that Mycroft just moved out, and seeing as I've always been more mature than my sister I decided that I could leave home too. I mention to her that I'm looking for a flatmate. I doubt anything will come of it. There are two girls living below me in 221C, and despite their frequent obsessions and pterodactyl screeches for absolutely no reason that I can see, they make me feel a bit lonely. Someone who won't mind me retreating into my head for hours if not days, not to mention the violin playing and experiments, will be a tall order.

At long last, I reach my flat at the end of the day. I throw my bag, flop down on the couch, and look deploringly at the skull on the mantel. "What am I going to do? I need help with this. Why won't anybody help me?" Bella just leered back at me. I named the skull Bella for...sentimental reasons.

I stand up quickly, running my hands through my hair and sighing. When I see my face in the spotless mirror above the mantel, I hardly recognise myself. There are hollows under my cheekbones, more pronounced than usual, and deep shadows under my eyes. I let my curls fall and raise a hand to swipe the mirror off the wall and relish the feeling of shattering glass, breaking the only link between my assistance and I.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I spin around, mouth agape at the sound of the familiar voice. I inhale hair and spit it out frustratedly. "Doctor!" I exclaim once I've got my breath back. "It's been months since I sent you my missive. Last time you promised me you would be prompt."

He raises his hands. "It's only been mere minutes for me. I'm still testing out the new-"

"Spare me the usual. 'I'm a time-traveller and I arrived as soon as I could, it's hard to get exact dates right, the new TARDIS console needs breaking in-'" I mimic. "I don't care. You owe me a favour, why weren't you here sooner?"

He shrugs apologetically. I growl and turn away, towards the windows. A siren wails in the distance.

"I could be helping them," I murmur to myself.

I feel the Doctor move towards me, a tall, dark presence. He wisely doesn't touch me, as if he knows as well as I do that the fact he is here is comfort enough. "You know they won't listen to you. You've been trying since you were eight..."

I cross my arms. "Carly Powers was hardly difficult. And I should have known that they wouldn't believe a mere child had shown them up. But I am fifteen now, fifteen!"

I release my callous, sullen veneer and practically collapse. The Doctor helps me to the couch and I let my usual dammed emotions flow, just a bit.

"I didn't know if you'd ever come for me," I say thickly. My throat is starting to stick, full of tears, but I swallow hard and keep them at bay.

"I promised that I would. And I don't break my promises."

"Rule number one: The Doctor lies," I remind him.

"I have got to tell River to stop telling people that." The Doctor sighs and props his feet up. "So what is this ever-mysterious, pressing dilemma?"

Words tumble out of my mouth in a rush, pent-up emotion and fears spilling into the open. I always refuse to admit that anything is wrong with me. My mind is too strong to fail. But then again, even the strong get sick. "I am so lost. I've been retreating into my head more and more, and it feels like I have a different face...a different front for everyone I talk to."

"Most everyone is like that," the Doctor says. "You've always been like that, it's never worried you before. Why come to me now?"

I sigh and continue. "I've been seeing impossible things. Premonitions, which are rare enough to begin with and usually frauds, but you know I would never lie about something like this...For the first time ever I want to run, leave and keep going until I don't recognise anyone and I can start again, and I've been really anxious and upset and antisocial and I am scared that I'm becoming depressed..." I stand up quickly and show the Doctor my hidden compartment in the table, full of cigarettes. Mr. Hudson doesn't like it when I smoke indoors, but it's been months. I can't stop. The Doctor sucks in a quick breath.

"There isn't anyone else I can turn to for help. Nobody else will understand, they will just shrug it off or make fun." I sigh again. This is so hard for me, to confide in anyone at all. If the Doctor hadn't come when he did...I shudder to think. "I am trying to hard to avoid this, it is so painful, I just have this general sense of being useless and not good enough and no matter what anybody tells me I still feel wrong and stupid and I am legitimately scared that I am going insane." My voice breaks and I lower it to a whisper. "Please. I need your help."

So Sherlock's problem is finally known, and we also now know why she moved to 221B in the first place! This also explains why she turned to drugs, and soon somebody will be there to help...anyway. Didn't want this to get all deep and character-studyish so fast, but I had to write SOMETHING...more soon, hopefully!

ANYwho, happy reading. x