A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update this. I could make up a million excuses, but I'm mainly just going to apologize. Also, I decided to do this chapter in Clara's P.O.V. If you want me to go back to third person, just let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading, and please R&R! : )
I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off at seven am in the morning. I quickly turned it off, and rubbed my eyes. I could already tell I had horrible bed head, but before I could fix it, I heard someone downstairs.
"It's him." I huffed, automatically knowing who would show up at this time of morning.
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I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen dressed in a light blue button up shirt with a grey vest over it, tight black jeans, and my hair braided.
"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" I asked, as I passed the man who was dressed in his normal three piece suit.
"Oh, just checking on you." Mycroft said, smiling fakely.
"I appreciate your little visits to check up on me, but I honestly don't need them." I said as sarcastic and polite as I could get.
He simply rolled his eyes, "Anything new on your grandmother?"
"Afraid not, but I'm sure the police will find her sometime." I said walking over and opening the fridge.
"And I assume you've gotten rid of that journal you keep?" he said opening up a newspaper that was laying on the kitchen table.
I slammed the fridge closed, " I told you already, Mycroft. I'm not getting rid of my journal, it may help me solve the murder of my parents somday."
"It may, but it might get you killed in the process."
"Then so be it." I stated smugly.
I grabbed my messenger bag from one of the kitchen chairs, and made my way to the door.
"You obviously know where the door is, since you keep popping up at random times before simply swanning off." I said before getting one foot out the door myself.
"One last thing." He started, causing me to stop where I was. "Have you had any more encounters with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?"
I suddenly froze, wondering how in the world he knew I had met them a while back.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. You must have the wrong person." I said fakely smiling.
"Oh I think you do, Clara. And if you have met them, never speak to them again."
I wondered why he was so concerned, but I just shrugged it off and walked out the door.
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I decided to get a few things at the grocery store, hoping Mycroft would be gone by the time I got home. After searching for the milk a while, I finally found the aisle, only to reveal Sherlock Holmes standing there as well. He was cornered by a reporter who was obviously irritating him. Our eyes met, and I could tell he wanted me to find a way to get him out of the situation. I felt myself smirk and almost immediantly got a look of annoyance back from him. It only took me a minute to think of a plan, before I started walking towards them. I grabbed a soda from one of the shelves I passed, shook it up and began to open it. Once I got only a couple feet away from the reporter, I made myself trip, spilling the drink all over her. She immediantly started freaking out over the stains that were beginning to form on her blouse.
"I'm so sorry!" I quickly said, trying my best not to laugh.
I reach into my bag to grab my wallet, but accidentally knock my journal out in the process. I simply ignore it, and hand a couple pounds to the reporter.
"This should take care of it."
"It better!" she said angrily, before storming off.
As soon as she got a couple feet away, I burst out laughing, even getting a small chuckle from Sherlock. He bent down to pick my journal up, and I was afraid he would see what was in it. I quickly grabbed it from him and stuck it back in the messenger bag.
"I was merely trying to help." He said, looking at me suspiciously.
I noticed how weird that must have seemed, "I know, um, sorry about that." I shook my head and smiled, "You so owe me.
"That was just paying me back for helping you three weeks ago."
"Has it really been three weeks?" I asked, not even realizing how long ago it was since they found me on their doorsteps.
"Yes, and it's being driving John mad."
"Well then, should I pay him a visit?"
"That might be nice, and you may also be able to help me figure out what this means." Sherlock said before pulling his phone out from his coat pocket and handing it to me.
On the screen were the words 'Chso2leimgalaiermmntaecgu, you'll never find out who I am. I live off the grid'.
I handed his phone back in confusion, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Not for sure, that's why you'll be helping me with this case." he said before promptly walking off.
"Wait a minute, where are you going?"
He stopped and turned back around to look at me in annoyance, "221B of course."
I thought about what Mycroft had told me, to not speak to them again. But here was the great Sherlock Holmes wanting me to help him solve a case.
"I'll help you."
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We took a cab back to Baker Street, and arrived there in only a matter of minutes. When we got inside, we were greeted by an older looking woman.
" Oh hello, Sherlock." she smiled before noticing me. "And who might this be?"
"I'm Clara Helmes." I said shaking her hand.
"Well it's a pleasure to meet you. If you two are looking for John, he's upstairs typing on that little blog of his."
Sherlock nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
"Well if you'll excuse me dears, I best be off to the store." she said kindly.
"Good day, Mrs. Hudson." I said smiling, before Sherlock and I made our way upstairs.
Mrs. Hudson was right, John sat upstairs typing on his computer. As soon as he saw me, he set it aside, and walked over to me.
"Clara, you're back!" He said smiling.
I gave him a quick hug, "Of course I am. I said I would, didn't I?"
"Well, take a seat." He said still surprised at my sudden appearance.
I seated myself on the couch that I had layed on weeks ago, while John and Sherlock took their own seats.
"How's the arm doing?" John asked.
"Much better, thank you."
"Do I need to take a look at it."
I shook my head, " No really, it's fine."
"I trust your judgement."
Sherlock looked at John, almost like he was offended.
"You're going to trust the judgment of a child? You don't even trust me most of the time!"
"That's because Clara is more mature than you at times." he responded.
"But at other times, I exceed even the both of you." Sherlock stated sternly.
John rolled his eyes and looked at me, " And that's as modest as he gets."
"So, how have you boys been since our last encounter?" I asked, actually pretty curious at what they had gotten themselves into.
"Good I suppose. We solved a scandal if that's interesting."
"Sounds fun." I said before I heard Sherlock groan. "Or not."
"Sherlock was sort of beaten by a woman on that case."
"I was not." He muttered.
John huffed and took a sip from the cup of tea he had been drinking, "Anyway. How have you been, Clara?"
"Well, I found out that I may get murdered."
"What? Why would somebody kill you?" John asked after almost choking on his tea.
"It's quite logical, really. When I was younger my parents were murdered, and now my grandmother is presumably dead..." I started.
"She's still missing?" John interrupted. "Are you sure she's dead?"
" John, it's been almost a three weeks since I met you two, and she's not come back. Besides, I think I know who did it."
"And who might that be?" Sherlock finally said.
"His name is Jim Moriarty."
This time John actually did choke on his tea before going pale. Even Sherlock looked surprised by this.
"Who?" John forced out, even having to glance at Sherlock to make sure he heard right.
"Jim Moriarty" I repeated, surprised by their reaction. "Why do you know him?"
"You could say we've had a few 'run-ins' with him." Sherlock said.
"'Run-ins'?" John laughed. "Ha! Last time we had a "run-in" with Moriarty, I had explosives strapped to me and guns were pointed at the both of us!"
"Well he's been busy since the last time I saw him, or as Moriarty anyway."
"What do you mean by the last time you saw him?' Sherlock questioned further.
"Moriarty is pretending to be my neighbor. He's also the one that has one of the two keys to get inside my house." I said being completely unphazed by the whole thing.
John choked on his tea again, causing me to roll my eyes.
"It may be best if you avoid drinking your tea while we have this specific conversation."
He took my advice, and sat the cup aside. His phone went off, alerting him that he received a text.
"It's Lestrade." John said, reading the message.
Sherlock groaned, "What does he and the rest of those idiots want?"
"He says there was a murder downtown."
"Is it a seven?"
"A seven?" I asked, now being my turn to be confused.
"Sherlock has this thing where he won't take a case unless it's over a seven on his "chart"." John explained.
"I would just be glad to even have a case, seven or not." I said right as John got another text.
"The murderer left a note."
I looked over at Sherlock, "Sounds like a seven to me."
"Fine" He said, before getting up from his chair.
John also got up, and they both began to put their coats on.
"You said you like solving things, right?" Sherlock said to me as he put his scarf on.
"Right."
"Then maybe you could make yourself useful, with your ability to make deductions."
I smiled, and hopped up from the couch. I walked over to the two who were standing by the door.
"What you might see today could disturb you." Sherlock warned.
I smiled, "Sounds lovely."
"Just like you." John said to Sherlock, shaking his head.
And just like that, we were off.