I do not own BBC Sherlock
.o0Sherlock0o.
"Come home, now." John grits into my ear. I tap on my knee, my jeans are soiled with blood. Kier's long leg bumps mine. He's cramped in the back of the police car.
"Can't. Busy." I say curtly.
"Scarlett, you're are hurt. If you don't come home you're grounded for a week." He says. Almost say something hurtful. Make a comment on how he isn't my true father. Bit my tongue.
"I'm going to Jenny's, I have to apologize. I'll be home in an hour or two." I say.
"Scar-" I hang up. Should have mentioned Kier. John always likes to know Kier is with me. Makes him feel reassured.
"He's going to freak when he sees the stab wound and your ribs." Kier says coolly. He's looking out the window.
"Not if we stay at your apartment while I heal." I say. Kier doesn't have parents. Well of course he has them but he never speaks of them. An orphan. He had been living in shelters for the majority of his childhood. When he became of age, he moved out on his own.
"No way. John's still made at me for harboring you last time you went on a holiday." He sounds sure. But I could get him to bend to anything I desire. It's what makes our friendship work. We pull up the the familar house on the outskirts of London. I get out, holding my torn stomach.
"Hey freak!" Georgie calls, not yet seeing Kier. Trenton appears at his side, smirking. Twins, both with brown hair and their mother's green eyes. Idiots. Not an once of their's fathers intellect.
"You'd think two halves of a brain would make a whole." I comment. Trenton's eyes narrow. He grips my arm, pulling it. I gasp in pain, it was the one that had been pulled out of socket. Still tender.
"Don't touch her." A deep growl. Kier. Anger rolling off of him as he shadows over me. I walk passed the boys. Imbeciles. Sexist ones at that. Terrified of Kier, think I'm helpless. Dull. Don't even bother with them. Skip up the stairs. Find the door almost as familiar as my own. Open.
"Get out, dorks." Jenny calls. She looks up and sees me. A flash of a smile, quicklly vanishes when she realizes she is supposed to be still angry at me. Jenny is smart, not intelligent. She's actually rather dim, unless it's book work. I do adore her though. Beautiful girl. Large eyes, soft brown hair. Everything I'm not. Gentle, docile. Every feature screams femininity. I'm all harshness. Sharp cheekbones, dark hair, flashing eyes.
"Good to see you've nearly forgotten your anger." I say. Her eyes take in the blood. She stand, comes to me. Her hands over my wound.
"You're hurt." She gasps. Tears in her eyes. So soft. I hate hurting her. I give her a cocky grin. She's taller than me, slender like her father.
"Barely. Caught a murderer for your father today. Found a body in the ventilation system." I say. She nods, tries to toughen up.
"Of course, you're remarkable. Where's Kier?" She asks. I glare at the collage brochure on her desk. Both her and Kier are two years older than me. Graduation in a few months. Kier sill stay close to me. Jenny might leave.
"Downstairs, handling Tweedledum and Tweedledee." I answer. She leads me to her bed, uncaring of I stain her comforter. Chaos, calm, kindness. The three of us perfect balance for the other. But what if they don't need my disorder. The thought pains me, I switch my train of thought.
"I'm sorry. For missing your party." I clarify. Kier understands me if I use minimal amounts of words. Sometimes Jenny doesn't.
"I bought your party dress. You looked so cute in it." She huffed, pulling it from the closet. I glare at it. Dresses aren't really my area. I much prefer jeans and stealing either Kier or John's shirts. My father chooses to dress much to formally for my taste.
"Not my area." I comment. She laughs, her smile forcing one of my own. Really do enjoy her company. Hard not too, so sweet. Too much though and she starts to form cavities. Can't handle too much kindness.
"Where this instead of your stained clothes." She coaxes. She thinks I'm beautiful. Has loved dressing me up since I was a girl. Calls me her Princess. Think of her as my older annoying sister. Decline.
"I'd rather not." I sigh. Eyebrows scrunch.
"I'll forgive you if you do." She negotiates. Groan, slip out of my clothes and into the dress. Purple. Black ribbon on the waist. Not as tasteless as I like to pretend. Flares out a bit at my hips, ending halfway down my thigh. She pulls my hair from my ponytail. Trying to subconsciously hide my bruised arms.
"You look gorgeous." She gushes. Glance at myself in the mirror. Dull.
"I'm not going to school tomorrow." I say. She glares at me suddenly, frowning is disapproval. She hates when I skip school.
"Why not." She demands.
"Another case-"
"You're schoolwork is more important than chasing criminals around London!" She scolds. Almost John's identical words. Miss him suddenly. Want to go home.
"Not nearly. I don't see how home economics will save someones life." I comment. She gives in, knowing she can't argue with me. Turning in a huff she drops to her desk. I reach down for my clothes and she kicks them under her bed. Ribs hurt too much to retrieve them.
"I'm going." I say. She ignores me. Fine. I leave, Kier coming down the hallway. He stops short when he sees the dress.
"Nice ensemble." Kier says sarcastically. Shove him against the wall as I pass, he laughs. We have down a cab, going home.
"You look like actress starring in a prom themed horror movie." My father says looking up from his book when I shuffle in. The wound started bleeding again when me and Kier got in a row in the car. He ripped the bottom of the dress, and there was blood from both of our wounds when he entered.
"I solved a case." I said, sliding on the couch beside him. Daddy issues. He didn't give me enough attention growing up. Or so my school therapist said. I'd burned the files before Mycroft could get a hold of them. He flipped a page in the book.
"A murder in an office near the Thames. Weapon was a knife, and the victim was found in a vent." He said, not even looking up. I glared at my feet, lifting them to the couch to rest my chin on my knees.
"How'd you figure it out?" Kier asked, impressed. I liked to be the one to dazzle him. But of course my father was far cleverer.
"Mud on your shoes, Thames. Obvious. No rain for the last couple of days. Both of you have identical wounds. Something that couldn't be easily blocked. You would have been able to knock it out of his hand the first time if it was just an accidental weapon. Not a gun, since you're able to walk. Knife then. Scarlett has a bit of ventilation dust on her head from where she found the body." Sherlock explained. I glared at my toes, wiggling them.
"You went to Lestrade's afterwards?" He asked. He already knew, why did he ask. Stupid. Glare at my feet.
"Yeah, uh. Scarlett went to apologize to Jenny."
"Hmm."
"Scarlett!" John came up the stairs. His anger vanished when he saw me. He nearly picks me up, clearing the table to examine me. Setting me on the ledge like he used to do while he cooked and I watched.
"I'm fine, John." I say. My fathers turn to be jealous. He wants all of John's attention. John adores me, fawns over me. I use it to my advantage.
"No. No you're not." He's upset. His brow furrowed, the wrinkles in his face deepening. My John. I love him so. Worry. Hate making him worry, but I can't help it. Handsome man for his age, plain but handsome. Moves my hair aside, lingering in it. He loves my hair. He groans when he sees the bruising on my arms.
"Christ, Scarlett." He's frantic now. Kier's sitting beside my father, watching me with his serious brown eyes. Probably reading my every emotion. Kier reads me well. Exasperating.
"John." I say more tenderly than I mean too. I reach up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to steady him. Solid, square shoulders. Strong solider John. Both men on the couch tense up. I hug John, and he returns it.
"You're going to kill me, I can barely handle Sherlock." He says, meaning to display his concern over me. It stings though. Forever in my fathers shadow. I'm constantly reminded how my father provides enough discord in London, I'm excessive. Unnecessary. Trivial.
"I'll try to be more careful." I say, looking away so Kier can't see my face.
I hated school. Hated waking up at a scheduled time. Hated having to wait in line, wait to get into the class, wait for the class to start. Wait. Wait. Wait. Nothing of value was taught. Should have done my studies rapidly so I could have graduated early with Jenny and Kier. But I didn't. More concerned with cases.
"Miss Holmes, the answer?" Look up, glance at the problem on the board. Calculate.
"The derivative of ƒ is defined to be ƒ itself and (x − a)0 and 0 are both defined to be 1." I answered. Check. Recheck. I'm right. Teacher looks confused. Why? Glances back at board in shock.
"Scarlett that equation was supposed be answered for the science fair." My teacher said. Still hadn't learned his name, despite it being the end of the year. Make a noise in the back of my throat.
"What a loser." A girl snickers. Ignore. Think. Jenny called John. Told him about my plan to skip school. Traitor. He brought me to school, using threats. Could leave. Don't want John to be upset though. Best to stick it out. Besides, I need Kier. He's almost about to graduate, won't leave school.
"Hey, why are you such a nerd?" Someone asks. Talking to me? Most likely. Why am I nerd? Hmm, interesting theory. I suppose I'm more intellectual than the average teenager. But why am I like that? Natural sated lust for knowledge? Most likely being raised in a household where intelligence was valued above everything. You're only as important as your mind.
"Are you ignoring me?" The catty girl asks. Isn't it obvious? Should I comment that her tampon has bleed through and is staining the front of her tiny jean skirt? No, that would involve observing which demands intellect, which would therefore make me a nerd. Best not. Smirk.
"Hey!" She moves to shove me. Shift my body slightly out of her way and she is sent sprawling on the the floor. Everyone looks up.
"What did you do?"
"She hit her!"
"What a bitch!
"Are you okay, Veronica?"
I sit there silently as they make accusations. Is this a witch hunt? It's so obvious she fell off the unstable stool she'd been perched on with her crossed legs. She's flailed and hadn't been able to catch her herself in time. Her nose was bleeding profusely. Had I hit her, she would have fallen on her back, not having enough time to twist around and lay flattened on the floor.
"Go to the office!" The teacher shouts. I don't. I wave down a cab and go home.
"You hit a girl hard enough to break her nose?" John demanded. Sherlock looks up, his eyes scanning my body.
"Dominant arm still healing from being dislocation. Knuckles clean of any lacerations. Terribly deduction, John. I've thought you've learned more in the years living with me." Sherlock stated. New my entire story even before I could tell him. Bastard. John has the humility to look embarrassed.
"Then why didn't you say so, why not fight back?" John demanded. So keen on justice.
"Much more information can be gathered by allowing people to make their own assumptions. Tends to show what people really think about you, as you've just demonstrated." My father's lips twisted up in amusement. He approves. Feel myself puff up a bit before quickly deflating. Hate how much I adore him.
"That's not fair," He said pointing his finger at me and tilting his head down to glare at me from under his sandy eyebrows. Heavy footfalls on the stairs. Kier.
"That's ridiculous. Like you could ever punch anybody hard enough to break their nose. You have fist like a kittens." Kier flashes me a mild smile. Always on my side. Loyalty is one of his better qualities.
"And your retorts are not nearly as funny as your receding hair line." I quip. Kier's hand goes subconsciously to his hair. His hairline would recede maybe a half an inch, but no more. Much to my annoyance. John was trying desperately to hide his laughter.
"I'm suspended for five days." I say, the laughter dies instantly.
"We're going to talk to your principal. I won't stand for you being punished without reason." John says, taking my hand. I pull away.
"I can't, I have a case. Schools interrupted enough-"
"Sherlock, talk some sense into her!" John demands. He's furious. Unable to even scold me properly. Dull.
"Do as John says." Sherlock mutters, he's much more fascinated with some mold that's grown on the edge of the book. I blink rapidly trying to stay focused. That is interesting, never seen that growth before.
"We're going, now. Before they write you up." John says, taking my hand again. Kier is saying something.
"Zygomycota?" I ask aloud, stopping Kier mid sentence. Strange coloration.
"Deuteromycota." Sherlock corrects. Kier and John are baffled about what we are communicating over.
"Fascinating." We breathe at the same time, looking up at each other. I go to my father, examining the book as he hands it to me.
"Oh bloody hell, they're going on about the mold." John groans to Kier. Ignore. Zone in on the spores. Need a microscope. Me and my father move at the same time, having the same thought. I find it interesting how similar we are, so does he. We've both done separate experiments and compared our results. Genetics, we concluded.
"Scarlett, now." John calls, dragging me from my mind. Shake my head, clearing the brilliant shining light that always happens when I'm thinking intensely. Everything gets vivid and blinding, everything matters.
"I'll get it prepared." Sherlock says to me. I nod, following John out sulkily.
"I'd like to hear Scarlett's story now. How come you didn't say anything when I asked you if you did it?" The principal asked. A balding old man. Liver spots on his head; fourteen to be exact, used the window behind him to get the ones I couldn't see by using the reflection. Tired of teenagers. Desperately needs to retire. He's a widow. Jumps the gun too quickly. Angry. Tries to be fair.
"You already made your decision." I say, John's sitting beside me. Blonde hair mixed with gray. Most of those gray hairs are from me. His lips pursed, glances at my feet.
"Put on your shoes." He says under his breath. Ignore him. Hate shoes. So confining. Kier's waiting in the hallway, being seduced by a girl. Probably staring at her with his usual bored gaze. Hands shoved in his pockets. Stance casual.
"I'm busy." I murmur at the exact moment he repeats them muffled from behind the door. Smirk. Yes, loyalty is most definitely one of his better features.
"Miss Holmes. Please, give me some indication that you care." The Principal is upset. Wants me to acknowledge him. Grovel. Beg to be allowed to return to this insulting excuse for an establishment for learning. It's private, highly regarded. Uniforms even, as if articles of clothes are the definer of a good school or not. Mycroft made sure Jenny and I were accepted. Not sure how Kier managed it. Curious. Must remember to ask. He's very mysterious.
"To be honest," John clears his throat. Warning.
"Being allowed a five day holiday from this pitiful excuse of a learning institution would be a relief. To call your teaching methods inadequate is putting it lightly. I've seen better-"
"Scarlett, please." John weary. He's rubbing his face, looks tired. Tired of me, tired of my mouth. Not in the literal sense of course, but the words that come from it. The principal is red and looks ready to burst. Feel a stab of regret, I don't like when my John looks like that. Duck my head in shame.
"I'm sorry. She's just-" John gives up.
"I've never been so insulted before in my life! And from a student!" The man splutters. Mundane. Must find a source of entertainment while John soothes him. John's good at fixing what me and my father break. Tune back in to Kier, still trying to shake the girl.
"Look, I'm already interested in someone else." Jenny probably. His interest in her was obvious when we where younger. Seems to have diminished some, but then again he might have just gotten better at hiding it.
"Scarlett's having a hard time adapting. She's a very smart girl-" Then again, could just be I've stopped paying attention. Romantic relationships are something I have very little interest in. Not really my area. Unless of course they involve Lestrade. Rugged handsome features. Smart, but not enough to compare with me. What he lacks in youth he makes up with wisdom. I sigh.
"Right Scarlett?" John asks. Hmm?
"Yes." I agree, quick nod. John turns back to the much calmer principal. Almost got kicked out. Should try again. Glance at John. Tired. No. Best not.
"The spores are shaped oddly." I comment. We might have discovered a new fungi. Kier and John are watching football. So pedestrian.
"Might be a malformation." My father says. Think of myself. Male gender is generally thought of as the dominant race. More intelligent, stronger, powerful. My father is also older, wiser. I'm a child, by nature naive. So what am I? A malformation. A less effective version of himself. Simmered down. Weaker. A failed experiment.
"What's wrong?" My father asks. His voice barely a whisper. Kier and John will never be able to hear it over the telly.
"Nothing." I answer. Too fast. Wince. He looks up at me. Identical eyes, only a fraction less feminine. Urges with me with those eyes.
"You don't care." I blurt before thinking. My father looks shocked, wasn't expecting that. Not from his derivative. I'm not allowed feelings. I'm not worth them. God, when I had I become so angst ridden. Need to divorce myself from foolish thoughts. Get over it. Teen hormones.
"I do." He says strongly. My turn to be shocked. No faking. He's serious. Feel my cheeks heat up. Hate blushing. It happens more than necessary, which should be never. Pitiful.
"I'm okay." I say. He studies my face. I look down at the mold between us.