Bone tired...so that was how it felt: the human skeleton aching and sagging from exhaustion. Literal exhaustion of the bones. Lethargic groans filled the still room as Addie woke up sore and stiff; she soon found her bones weren't the only part of her body that groaned with her.
For nearly three hours the day before, the two walked around, entering and leaving shops as Sherlock bought little trinkets and paid in cash. Some he managed to pick out himself; few others were "gifts", at the forced insistence of the older eccentric. Along with her new kalimba, Addie now owned a small Union Jack, a cheap red bracelet and a tin of shortbread cookies.
The ever-cooling night air, never stopping for rest, and the eventual amount of packages she began carrying wore out Addie's arms and entire being. As their little trip progressed, huffing and puffing from holding all those bags, Addie couldn't help but sense that he was up to something and she was purposely left out of it all. She was a pawn to a careful chess game of his; no doubt it was all a part of some strange, overblown plan.
If this were chess, then, who would be his opponent?
And what pawns were at the disposal of this opponent?
As these thoughts and more tumbled about in her mind, the sun's weak rays managed to peak through her window. Daylight. Morning. It all pointed to one thing: responsibility. How she dreaded it. School was boring and pointless enough, and now along with her lack of good rest, Addie's frazzled brain would deal with the distraction of an ever-growing, enticing case that she wasn't fully a part of.
Wait, school.
Was it a school day?
Suddenly Addie bolted up. She forgot to set her alarm the night before and by the looks of the Sun, was well into late morning. A frantic search on her bed side dresser revealed her phone...saying it was Saturday.
"Aie!"
The phone tossed aside carelessly, Addie flopping back into her blanket-drenched bed to continue resting, despite her mini rush. Breathing in and out, the girl focused on her heart rate. Light yet deep breathes calmed down her nerves. Thoughts of even the elusive case drifted away, though they teasingly remained at the edge of her conscious mind. The symbol that once adorned the bottom of her now well-loved kalimba carefully floated at the edge of her inner-peripheral vision.
I'll have to look it up sometime...I bet it means something to Sherlock. He shouldn't be the only one trying to figure things out.
A relieved sigh escaped her lips. Finally, with the most pressing matter in her mind at rest, she could finally focus on sleep. Addie wiggled a little, settling more into her plush blankets, before truly relaxing.
Until the phone buzzed.
The buzzing, being a signal for only her texts, was promptly ignored. Whoever it was could wait. A few minutes later, it buzzed again, and ignored just as easily. By the third buzzing session, Addie began tossing and turning, her long hair getting tangled and tickling her face. When it came again a fifth time, she finally relented with an irritated groan, reaching down to the hardwood floor to grab her cell. Squinted eyes, blurry in vision at first, soon saw that the texts were coming from Sherlock.
Another groan.
"Alright you crapeau, whatcha want now?" she muttered tiredly. The first few messages simply stated:
come to flat, urgent SH
But they gradually grew more impatient. The final message blared:
NOW. COME NOW. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. SH
With a smirk she texted back:
Coming soon. Chill.
Addie got ready rather quickly and was out the door, taking her long green coat this time instead of her windbreaker. Even during the rush, however, the steel red bracelet was thrown on last minute; despite the strange circumstances surrounding it's purchase, it was still more or less pleasing to Addie's tastes.
The air bit harder than yesterday and clouds covered the winter sky. The sunshine from earlier was now choked out. Addie reluctantly thanked her gruff uncle for buying it as she started her journey to the other flat.
One cab ride later lead Addie to 221 Baker Street. After hurrying up the steps, she found Sherlock standing in front of a paper-littered fireplace. Numbers and pictures hung about in a disordered yet organized fashion. She threw down her coat and eagerly walked up to get a closer look. Her heart jumped slightly when she saw the symbol that haunted her memory. Finally, some real detective work! She would be intentionally involved! A part of her felt guilty for ignoring the texts now; she was missing out on all the fun.
"Oh good, you're here. Go make some tea, won't you?"
Sherlock waved her off with the flick of his hand. Eyes never left the pictures and writing in front of him. Whatever guilt his companion felt dissipated immediately.
"Tea?" she asked with a hint of hurt.
"Yes yes, brew it already. I've been dying of thirst while you wasted your time getting here." he snipped. Still his eyes remained fixated on his clues. "I'm getting dehydrated and I find it harder to focus."
A nose scrunched and eyes narrowed. "You sounded mighty upset over some stupid tea in your texts."
"I'm still upset. Don't push my waning patience."
The tone sounded sterner this time. Addie eventually grumbled under her breath and walked into the cramped kitchen. Whatever buttons he had that could be pushed, they could wait for another opportunity.
Addie found a new reason to detest her task: she had no idea what to do. Dishes piled up in the grimy sink, clean ones out of her sight and hidden in one of the many cupboards; everywhere she opened, instead of locating the elusive tea, would reveal a jar of fingers, or a bowl with a solitary eye ball. Pale hands grew paler as the minutes drew on. Was this a kitchen or a crime lab?
Or a crime scene? Addie wouldn't put it past the guy.
The fruit of her cautious labors ended with the discovery of an old but clean coffee mug. Addie hesitantly ran the water from the faucet; finding that the water was clean unlike the rest of the place, she filled the mug and placed it on the cleanest spot of the counter. The tea was finally found after taking a step back and hearing a crinkling crunch on the ground.
"Why didn't I step on you earlier?" she huffed in annoyance as she reached down for the packets.
After a long nuking session in the microwave, hands covered with oven mitts took out the steaming tea and Addie carefully escorted it to the round table next to the focused detective. Sherlock, who did not watch her come in, was now looking at her quizzically when she started to walk away with the oven mitts still on.
"The mug's hot." was all she said, shrugging.
"I don't think boiled tea necessitates the need for oven mitts, Miss Thuot." he commented as she disappeared into the kitchen. However, Sherlock's own hands were carefully trying to grasp around the impossibly scorching tea. His nose crinkled, the fumes smelling a bit burnt.
"You did boil this, didn't you?" he called out.
"Duh." a reply came.
"How?"
"In the microwave. How else you gonna boil it?" Addie answered offhandedly. She almost jumped out of her skin when the loud thumping of Sherlock's running feet stormed into the kitchen.
"You what?"
Sherlock stood there looking appalled and disgusted. Imposing and dark, Addie never realized how scary he could be. And over tea?
"I put it...in the microwave." Addie spoke more carefully now. A finger warily pointed a finger at the device.
"That's not how you make tea you uncultured twit! You boil the water in the kettle! Pour the water over the tea bag! And then-"
"Jeez, what's the big deal? It's just tea!"
Wrong answer.
"MRS. HUDSON!"
Addie never felt her pride break so hard. She didn't give a single damn about tea, yet Sherlock made it out to be a grave offense to all of England; even his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, so kindly and soft looking, tutted the girl like a naughty child for failing to make the national drink properly.
"Really, what decent person doesn't know how to make a nice cuppa?" she sighed with a shaking head. "I thought you Southern ladies would know this at least. No one can marry knowing their love can't even make a steaming cup of tea."
"Well it ain't gettin' him any action." Addie retorted, elbowing the overbearing presence of Sherlock just next to her. To her surprise, the old woman chuckled merrily. Not to her surprise, Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave off his usual air of annoyance.
After the brief – and rather-forced - tea-making lesson came to an end, Sherlock walked back straight to his picture-covered fireplace. Addie fought back the swelling disappointment growing in her chest. Yet again, she was left out of what she was promised and of what she desired: a case that would test and push her intelligence to it's full potential.
"Oh dearie, don't fret too much." Mrs. Hudson spoke assuringly. A fresh cup of creamy tea handed to Addie, she accepted it and took a sip as the landlady continued. "He's not much of a people person, not even to those he's often around."
"I kinda figured." Addie sighed. "But he got me into this so I could use my talent. All he's done so far is use me like a typical-"
"Intern?" Mrs. Hudson finished for her with a smile. "I remember when I interned once...it was before I met my husband, and I was training to be a secretary. Most of the time I was fetching tea and files and other nonsense. It's how they start you out, pushing you to see if you are willing to do anything to get what you want."
Perking up in interest, Addie asked, "Get what you want?"
"In your case, being a part of whatever project Sherlock has going on. Don't you worry though, I'm sure you'll get in right quick. Your eyes tell me you're too clever to be just an errand girl." she finished with confidence. Addie couldn't help but blush, the red popping more so than usual from underneath her dark freckles.
"Miss Thuot!"
"And the pushing begins!" Mrs. Hudson joked lightly as she took Addie's empty cup. "I'll take care of things here, you go on."
Addie silently thanked the matron, finding herself yet again rushing out the door, barely getting her coat on in time to beat out the cold.
"What's up?" she asked. They walked the opposite direction now; for sure they were not making a repeat of yesterday.
"Making a visit." Sherlock answered. A tiny flash of red poked from underneath Addie's green sleeve.
"I see you're enjoying your gift."
"Just playin' the part." she defended stubbornly. The metallic bracelet suddenly felt quite cold as it touched her bare wrist. "It's the most I can do, what with you keeping me out of everything."
"Good. I was afraid you would be poking your nose into it, rather than going along." Sherlock quipped in return. "It'll make this visit easier."
"Where are we going anyway?" Addie almost demanded. Sherlock finally hailed a cab and they got inside; still, he did not answer.
"You don't take kindly to authority figures." he started after they settled in. Pedestrians and grey buildings passed by lazily. "If I told you, you wouldn't be here."
"You don't know that." the challenge came. Her voice was quiet with frustration, though she refused to look Sherlock in the eye.
"Don't know? Me? It's obvious enough from your inability to follow the simplest of orders given to you, only relenting in the end for your own benefit. It's not just laziness, I suppose, that stops you from accomplishing anything."
Again with his deductions. Again with his near-on mind reading. Addie finally looked up and scrutinized every last speck of the man. She noted the dark colors of his scarf and long peacoat: the colors of power and confidence. The way he threw up the collar around his neck, accentuating his high cheek bones and long face, also caught her eye; trying to appear confident in features as well? He looked stern, but not overly stressed or even irritated. Indeed, Sherlock was calm and focused. What he shared about her was simple truth, done out of practicality; spite or anger had nothing to do with it.
Instead of finding a way to retaliate against him, Addie only discovered with great humility that Sherlock was not only right: but he was too skilled to be tricked or beaten.
Or was he? Addie found herself suppressing a smile as she thought of ways to out do him.
No other words were exchanged. Until Addie saw their destination.
"Come on! The cops?"
They got out once the cab came to a halt. It was a professional, sleek building, and would have been considered friendly-looking as well if Addie were another person entirely.
"Told you so." was all Sherlock answered with. Reluctantly Addie followed him inside. Her stomach knotted up; she left behind her old life in New Orleans, whatever theft she committed here in London thus far. And yet it were as if every sinful deed of her past, both petty and great, forged themselves into chains and draped openly upon her shoulders and chest, wrists and ankles. Every name and face associated with even the darkest of her days were stuffed into the most secret places of her mind. Addie - even if unnecessary to do so - prepared defensively for any possible attack on her record.
But it's impossible for them to know. We all made sure no one would know.
Addie snapped out of it before even Sherlock could notice the change in her eyes. She couldn't let anything slip, not here with that man in her company.
"Listen carefully, Miss Thuot, because I need you to work quickly and silently." Sherlock muttered to her in a low tone. The ringing of phones and chatter of the various cubicles prevented anyone else from hearing. Her ears perked.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to meet with Lestrade, he's just up the hall. But I'm going to ask you to grab me a cup of coffee there."
She noticed the break room, getting closer to it as she kept up with Sherlock's pace. "You want more than coffee, don't ya?"
"Smart girl. Across from it is a file room. Get the orange one labeled "g" underscore one. Go."
He lightly nudged Addie into the break room. She stood there partly in shock after stumbling in, as two cops sat at the table, chatting innocently enough while another was messing with the vending machine.
Every fiber in Addie's being told her to run out of the place like it was going to explode at any second. There were few times before when she found herself in a police department of any kind, and it wasn't to grab a cup of joe for a friend.
Ha! Friend. Sherlock was no friend. She couldn't trust him as much as he most likely didn't trust her. Addie forced herself to walk forward regardless, knowing she was given some sort of opportunity to participate more actively in the case. Maybe Sherlock wasn't so bad after all, asking her to steal from cop files.
The styrofoam cup was large, and filled to the brim with caffeinated dark roast. After drowning it with pumpkin spice creamer and sugar, Addie turned her attention to the closed door across from the small break room. The other cops continued to chatter away, and brushed passed her as they returned to work; she contemplated how to go about things when she saw the security camera just outside the door, but her heart skipped a bit when it started waving at her.
Was that Sherlock giving her a sign?
Like when Addie had stolen the pin from the museum, she knew she had the opportunity to grab and go. Others were gone now, and Sherlock possibly had security distracted as well. Unlike last time, however, Addie found herself hesitating. It was as if her mentor were talking down her talents, reminding her of her failures.
You are overconfident. Lazy. Immature. Ignorant-minded.
Shut up. Addie told the imaginary Sherlock. He stood tall and dark, even more so than his real counterpart, his eyes judging her harshly with crossed arms. I can do this better than you think, she finished. His baritone voice stopped abruptly. Then, she saw imaginary Sherlock's smirk in her mind's eye.
Prove it.
Addie replied with a smirk of her own. Damn straight I will.
The unlit room stood just before her now. A few large sips were taken from her coffee. As she drank it in, Addie looked this way and that from the corner of her eye, making sure no one watched. She was clear.
The door was not locked; well, that was one obstacle she could avoid. No hair pins to bend and ruin. Quickly the door was shut with no light turned on. Only the hallway LED filtered through, just enough to guide the girl without drawing attention to herself. And she did her work.
"See? Absolutely faulty!" Sherlock pressed on, practically laying over Lestrade's desk as he reached and wiggled the camera remote. "It moves much too slow!"
"Stop that!" the detective yelled as he jumped up. "Jesus, Sherlock, since when did you even give a damn about our new security system?"
By now not just Lestrade, but also Donavan and Anderson were pushing the man off of the desk. No one watched the sleek computer screen, much less the tiny box in the corner showing Addie walking into the file room. Good, she wasn't doing so bad so far.
"Don't you poor sods hire me to do your work?" Sherlock continued, acting affronted as he smoothed out his sleeves. "Surely-"
"You help us out when we call at the scene." Donavan corrected in frustration. Her forehead cringed in a way that gave away her growing migraine. Drinking out last night, was she?
"And you aren't exactly an expert in security, I think." Anderson added with disdain. The peculiar stain on his shirt, a stain only created by liquids of high alcoholic content, did not go unnoticed.
"I was expert enough when I saw how shoddy the history museum's own system was. Had to point out all 53 flaws of it myself!"
Where are you, Thuot?
"Gee Sherlock, care to share who you think done it?"
"Anderson, not now!" Lestrade said, taking his seat back at the desk. Sherlock hid his relief when he saw that Addie's little quest had gone unnoticed thus far. He could care less about Anderson's accusations, so long as his partner did her part without any fuss.
"Sup?"
Speak of the devil!
Addie stood in the doorway. Her coat front was open now, her purple Ramones shirt showing beneath as she drank from a large coffee cup. Long red hair stood up slightly around her shoulders from static, and appeared to care less that the others stared at her sudden appearance. Only Sherlock could sense her nervousness around them. Her eyes darted a little too much, giving away her desire to run out; despite this, the rest of her face and stature stood casually.
"Oh, is this the intern?" Lestrade asked, trying to turn the conversation elsewhere. He relaxed behind his desk drinking from his own coffee cup. Donavon's curiosity piqued at the new face, though she did not actively pursue any conversation. Anderson glared at the girl as if she were Sherlock himself, despite being a scrawny little thing with a freckled face.
"What are you, twelve?"
"What are you, a nosy prick?" Addie retorted without a care of how she presented herself. Sherlock stifled a chuckle with a small cough before speaking; Lestrade almost choked on his own drink.
"Miss Thuot is quite capable for this work, if you couldn't tell from her quick thinking." he explained. "I also see you are drinking the coffee I asked for."
"Oh yeah, sorry." she said, shrugging, before taking another slurp.
"Well, I'm sure you all tire of my presence. Miss Thuot, let's take our leave."
"I just got here!" Addie said as she was pushed out. The office door shut loudly behind them as she was urged forward by a forceful hand on her shoulder. Now empty, she threw out her coffee cup into a garbage can as they walked down the street.
"You took too long." Sherlock answered. A cab was hailed and they got comfortable inside. "Once we're back, I'll need what I asked for."
"Um." Addie bit her lip. "About that. Yeah, I didn't get the file."
"You what?"
"I couldn't find it! I was nervous!" she defended lamely. Sherlock's eyes narrowed. Her fingers were twitching ever so slightly, like the day he confiscated the stolen hair pin from her. Even her ears reddened slightly.
"Your coat."
"What?"
"It has two layers." Sherlock began stiffly. He grabbed one open flap of the green, synthetic fabric. "The one underneath is some sort of rain coat, or windbreaker. On top of it, connected by the zipper, is the thick part of the coat. I noticed it when you walked into Lestrade's office."
Addie's face grew still, her reddening ears betraying her sticky fingers even more. The zipper connecting the two coats together was jerked open; Sherlock gracelessly whipped out the hidden file in-between them and stuffed them in his own large coat.
"Don't you ever lie to me again, Miss Thuot. I'm too smart for that."
She sunk low into her seat and zipped them together again before closing the front.
"I just thought..."
"Thought what?" came the irritated tone.
"I just thought I was smarter than you." she told Sherlock with a weak grin. He gave her a long, hard look, as if assessing her sincerity. A sigh eventually escaped his lips.
"You thought you could do a better job than I in solving this case?" he asked as they reached his flat again. They stepped outside.
"I would, but you keep hiding all the clues from me. How else was I gonna see it?"
They continued to argue as they went inside. By now it was the late afternoon, and they could smell Mrs. Hudson baking some scones for tea later that day. However, they were too busy debating and talking to truly pay attention to their grumbling stomachs.
"I'm just saying you're not giving me a chance! How else am I gonna learn?" Addie insisted.
"Am I truly your only outlet for educating yourself? Must I spoon feed everything to you like the demanding little brat you are?" Sherlock retorted. Addie scoffed, offended. He sunk more into his armchair, long legs sitting indian style as he watched some brainless game show. Though his eyes bore into the television, he was fully engaged with challenging her mind, making her think. He found the whole moment rather relaxing.
"That's how an internship works." she insisted.
"That's not how I make it work." He shifted slightly, now leaning his head on his hand. "I promised you opportunities, not an outright tutorship. Don't you know how read? Use a library? School teaches you nothing useful and I don't plan on replacing your teachers. If you want to be smarter than me – as unlikely as that is – then you must explore the world. Do things no one else would do. Learn what everyone else wants banned or stuffed away out of sight."
I think I did enough "exploring" back home. Addie told herself in silence. She lay flat on her back onto the couch now, having the whole thing to herself. It gave her time to stare at the ceiling until she began to see shapes in the tiny specks and cracks; enough to think about New Orleans, and it's melting pot of characters and settings. And beyond New Orleans, there were the bayous and the creatures that dwelled within. Her father's cousins lived there still, loyal to their roots and desiring simpler ways of living.
And now, London. It was on her list of places she had visited. A frown formed when Addie realized that she truly hadn't explored the city yet. She had kept putting it off, relaxing from her usual thievery until she felt ready to restart the old business. Yet now, she was one doing the snooping around to stop those like her. Things changed so fast in such little time.
Maybe I should look around tomorrow. See what makes this place tick. Addie smiled. Yes, that sounded nice, actually. Better than laying around on her uncle's place at least.
Sherlock noted the lack of a snarky reply after a few minutes. The laughs from the TV sounded muffled and static.
"You look like you're thinking."
Addie punched the musty pillow under her head before responding. "Just doin' what you told me to do."
"Well if all you're going to do is think then get out of my flat."
"Because you're so busy." she pointed out as she sat up, gesturing towards the program he watched.
"Your thinking is loud enough to disturb even my tellie time." Sherlock chided. "Get out and let me enjoy some quiet, won't you?"
"As His majesty wishes." Addie rolled off the couch with an aggravated grunt. She rolled again onto her feet, getting ready to brave the cold air outside. Her arms and legs stretched out, popping a few joints, before she finally made her leave.
Sherlock waited until he heard the door shut. Getting up and looking out the frosted window, he watched as she turned the corner. He counted to 100 before he felt sure the girl was gone. By then a portion of the window was misted by his warm, steady breath. No sign of Addie was left, so Sherlock returned to his little work corner. Despite the piles of symbols and notes strewn about, only the file and it's content could possibly connect it all.
Such unnecessary precautions the police were taking, hiding away such a crucial file. It was beyond him why they refused to release them to their best private detective. Lacking understanding and being wary of Sherlock notwithstanding, in the end they begrudgingly knew he was, frankly, much better at figuring out these puzzles.
But when Sherlock opened the file, there were no police reports, pictures of other suspects, not even anything related to his case. Instead, page after page, in firetruck red and printed in a large font, he read:
smarter than you! :)