The first thing Alex noticed was the roaring headache as her mind slowly woke her up from a deep sleep. Bright light stabbed at her eyelids, piercing through to the eyes still trying to rest. She groaned and tried to turn over, causing a sharp, burning sensation to stab her right shoulder. She yelped in response and her eyes flung open.
She took a minute to blink spots out of her vision and get used to the incredibly bright white that was the ceiling. Hospital room, her mind informed her wearily. She twitched her right hand and sighed. Just shoulder damage. What happened again? She raised her left hand, which had an IV needle in it, until she couldn't anymore. Her ear twitched in annoyance. I hate hospitals. She put in back down and slowly moved her head to look down at her shoulder. After a minute or two, she realized she'd need a mirror to see the damage.
"Well, look who finally woke up." John's amused voice greeted her. Suddenly his kind face was looming over Alex's. She took note of his brown/green eyes and smiled in response. His blonde hair was graying, something she hadn't noticed until she was studying him closely.
"What…" her voice cracked from disuse. She coughed and swallowed, then tried again. "What happened?" She sounded hoarse, like someone had tried to strangle her.
John's mouth pulled down at the corners, and he scratched his head. "You were shot, right in the café. No one knows why, or by whom. Yet. Sherlock and Sarah are around here too. I'm sure Sherlock will have more information than I do." The army doctor looked up right as Alex heard two sets of footsteps enter the room.
"Ah, you're awake then." The deep voice seemed to boom, making Alex wince. She closed her eyes against the lights and tried to find the source of the horrid headache. "Alex, I'm terribly sorry this happened while you were under my care. How are you feeling?" The teen's head lulled to the side as she slowly opened her eyes again. She smiled warmly at the detective.
"I'm feeling…alright. Need some water. Terrible headache, no pain in my shoulder. Don't apologize Sherlock, bet it would've happened if I was alone." I'd be dead if I was alone. She didn't allow herself to admit that last part. That was letting the truth come uncomfortably close to being real.
The detective looked perplexed at what Alex had just muttered. Would've happened if you were alone? He didn't understand how one as young as her could accept the fact. Or even think like that. Sherlock was almost sure that the sniper had been aiming for him, but he stupidly ducked.
The teen shook her head as if she could read Sherlock's thoughts and closed her eyes again. Her breathing became even once more and she fell into a deep sleep.
"Sherlock, she's fine. Go home and get some rest. Quit worrying so much about a girl you've barely met." John muttered to the detective. The lights were off in the room, and it was easy for the girl to feign sleep. No doubt the detective could hear the slight change to know she was awake, but John couldn't.
"I'm fine John, you go home and get some rest. I'm not tired at all. And I worry because, well, look at her. Clearly she's running from an abusive family member." I would understand better than you ever could, the detective didn't bother to voice his thought. John didn't know, or understand, much about the man's childhood. Sherlock thought it best to leave buried, least he slip into his old habits he'd been clean of for years. To him, that young girl lying in the bed was just like him. Battered, bullied, scared and putting on a face for the world. However, he knew she wasn't dealing with it through conventional means, such as drinking and drugs. She was doing something more dangerous, something Sherlock Holmes remembered doing all too well.
The girl stirred slightly, making John flinch guilty. He gave Sherlock one last look and looked at Alex. "Awake again we see." He smiled in adamant amusement.
Alex stuck her tongue out at him. "I caught up on some rest, that's always good. How long have I been out?" She tried to sit up when she realized her arm was now in a sling and the IV had been taken out.
"A week. That bullet did a lot of damage. They had to do some blood transfusions, put a plate in your shoulder blade, and stitch it all up. Sorry about having to be drugged. They were afraid you'd wake up in the middle of operation." John smiled apologetically. Alex pursed her lips in thoughtfulness and shrugged.
"I'm feeling lots better. Can I leave? I hate hospitals." She practically begged the two grown men, giving her best puppy dog face. They both laughed as Sarah entered the room, earning a strange look from the girl's aunt. "Aunt Sarah, can I leave? Please? You know how I am about hospitals." She turned pleading eyes on the doctor, who smiled at her.
"Your doctor will be here to check vitals in short moment. If everything checks out, he said you're good to go." The teen's face lit up and she looked around. The room had no color to it, much to Alex's disliking. She hated hospitals more than she hated her old home.
"Oh, Aunt Sarah, I still need my phone and laptop, and some clothes." She muttered after a while, biting her lip. She'd left all of it in her room when she made her escape, now the trick was getting it back. She knew her stepfather would be going to work in a few hours, but both should be in bed. Her two little brothers would be laying in their toddler beds, unaware that their sister was never coming home.
Sarah pursed her lips and tapped her index finger against them. "Well…I suppose we can get them tonight, since their asleep, or should be." She worried about getting caught. Her brother had already called about the whereabouts of his missing stepdaughter. She, of course, was forced to lie. Sarah doubted he actually believed her.
"Phone and computer? From your place?" John asked Alex, studying her. The teen nodded, almost defeated, and closed her eyes, counting to ten. She took a deep, shaky breath and looked the army doctor straight in the eyes.
"I'm technically a runaway…sorry about that." She sighed and laid back, letting the warmth in the pillows embrace her. John looked at Sherlock.
'You could tell?' He mouthed, wonderingly. The detective nodded the slightest bit and turned to Alex.
"We'll get your stuff back, don't worry. You just go back to the flat and rest." Sherlock motioned for John to follow. Sarah silently slipped them the address. She stayed behind as a doctor came rushing in, apologizing about being late, and watched the two flatmates walk out of the hospital.
Getting into the house was fairly simple. One of the idiots inside had left the front door unlocked. Sherlock tested it, swinging it open on whisper-quiet hinges. The whole household remained asleep. The only sound was somebody's loud snoring. The detective turned to his flatmate. "Go down that hall, I'll go down the other one." He whispered, moving quickly and quietly. The army doctor nodded, hardly believing he was doing this for a girl they'd just barely met.
Something about her has to remind Sherlock of himself for him to want to do something nice for her…John thought as she passed two boys' bedrooms. One was sleeping deeply, by the sound of his breathing, but the other's breath hitched in sobs and uneven rhythms, as if he was crying. John froze in front of this boy's door, feeling that pull to comfort the child. He knew he couldn't, so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, walking further down the hall. He came to the last two doors and listened carefully. Not a sound came from either one.
He tested the door on the right, twisting the knob and pushing the door slowly open. John peered in and caught the gleam of a sink and toilet. "Only the loo," he muttered, closing the door again. He took a deep breath as he opened the other door, hoping it wasn't just storage. The scare moonlight lit the outline of a twin-sized bed, a nightstand and what looked like a dresser. The army doctor sighed and flipped on a light, looking around.
The bed was covered in dark purple fabric, and her pillows were alternating black and white. The lamp on the nightstand had a white shade, casting a soft light over the dark carpet and purple walls. A silver computer top winked in the new light and a phone led showed green next to it. John went to grab those first, looking for a case to hold the laptop in. He found the black bag sitting against the pillows, sagging open, as if waiting. This girl must really like dark colors, John thought as he packed the computer and phone up. He raided her closet next, grabbing random clothes and packing them in a dark blue suitcase sitting on the floor.
"You almost done?" Sherlock asked from the doorway, making John jump. He nodded silently and cleaned out her top drawer, barely looking at the contents. The army doctor zipped the back up, grabbed the computer and headed towards Sherlock, who took the computer bag and started to head out the door. John, at the last minute, grabbed a picture frame, with the glass busted, from the dresser. He'd seen the glinting smile of a man, and figured it was Alex's father, her real one.
Sherlock was waiting outside, impatiently. "Sorry…" John mumbled, carrying the picture and suitcase towards the cab waiting down the street. He hoped he'd never have to see the awful home the poor girl had lived in.
Alex was lying on the couch when the two boys returned. Her attention was fixed on a book she had picked from the collection Sherlock kept around. Her ear twitched as she noted the presence of John and Sherlock. "Didn't take you too long. Did the bloke 'forget' to lock the front door again?" She asked, setting the book gently down. She locked onto the computer bag, immediately moving to take it off Sherlock's hands. She smiled gratefully as he let it go.
Alex started rooting around in the bag, muttering under her breath until she pulled out a long knife with a wolf handle. The sheath was decorated in different wolves as well. The blade was wicked sharp, and the teen smiled as she felt it. John and Sherlock watched with both amused and worried expressions.
"Good," she breathed, sheathing the knife and stuffing it back in the bag. "At least he didn't think to start going through my stuff." She seemed to be muttering to herself as she pulled the laptop out and powered it on. The screen popped up to purple background of a wolf.
"Obsessed with wolves much?" John asked her, amused. The teen laughed and nodded, pulling up documents and pictures. They flashed by as she quickly read and exited out.
"All my stories and poems," she explained to the flatmates who shrugged.
"Poems? Any good?" Sherlock asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Dark. Sad, depressing. I don't have any happy poems, that I can remember that is." Alex muttered, looking down. She'd been writing poems since she was twelve, to take her mind off the ache of her missing father. It didn't always help, but it did give her thoughts a place to go.
There was a sharp knocking on the door, then silence, as whoever had knocked waited. After the heartbeat of five means, another round was set upon the door, causing Sherlock to look at John. "That's not a client, nor my brother or Lestrade." The detective informed his best friend, who frowned.
"I guess I'll go down and get it then." The army doctor muttered, going downstairs. He gasped as he opened the door.
