A/N: Sorry, this is only a short chapter! Thank you for reading, and please fav/follow/review!
She woke up with her cheek pressed against something hard and freezing cold. Slowly opening her eyes, Ada realised that she had been leaning her face against a car window, and there was snow piling up on the small rubber ledge outside. With a sharp intake of breath, Ada realised where she was – and who was with her. The man to her left looked up from his phone and allowed her a second to fully wake up. She turned to face him.
"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" He greeted, with a sly smirk. In her sleepy state, Ada couldn't be bothered to control her mouth as she had become used to in the compound.
"Jim? That's a bit of a juxtaposition isn't it? I mean, given your job." She mumbled, turning back to lean her face against the window. The blond guy sitting in the front seat with his feet on the dashboard snorted
"Feet down, Tiger." Jim ordered
They drove for another couple of hours, with the warmth of the car and the last dregs of rohypnol in her bloodstream allowing Ada to drift in and out of sleep. Despite being larger and more expensive than most could afford, the car felt incredibly cramped, and Moriarty's dominating presence could not bother her in her sleep. The next time she woke up, the vehicle was coming to a stop, and out of the window the teenager could see a small building, next to which stood a square cover with 'Esso' written on the front. From what she could remember from their 'Modern Studies' class, this was most likely a petrol station. She couldn't be sure though.
"We're stopping for some chocolate." Moriarty explained. "Want some?"
Chocolate? Isn't that a bit childish for someone like him? Then again, what do I know?
"Erm, no thanks, I've never had it before."
He shrugged and climbed out of the car, and the other man in the front seat followed suit. Ada was left alone in the car with the driver, who left the car to move to where Moriarty had been sitting. It felt like an unnecessary precaution, particularly when he aimed a silenced revolver at her head. She stared at him for a moment, and they made uncertain eye contact, before she looked into the petrol station. There appeared to be quite a queue. The driver seemed to catch on to the pensive look in the girl's eyes, but before he could do anything, it was too late. Ada got the burst of adrenaline she had hoped for.
In a flash, she wacked the guy's outstretched wrist and grabbed the gun, turning it on him. He froze, clearly unprepared for her to be capable of quite this level of self-defence. Ada realised that there was no way she could unlock the car door without letting down her guard, and that man seemed fast. She was left with a moral debate.
Was it wrong for her to kill this man? Life in the compound had not given her the context for anything other than a logical sense of right and wrong, but logic did not always apply to situations like this. He was bad, wasn't he? He was working for an institution that had trapped her in a building in the highlands of Scotland for all sixteen years of her life. That was wrong, wasn't it? And even if she were to shoot him in the leg, he'd still be able to stop her from getting away. There was no time to think, just to act. She shot him in the head.
I just killed him. I just killed someone. Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD.
Despite the ringing in her ears drowning out everything around her, Ada undid her seatbelt, leaned forward, and unlocked the car, before opening the door on her right and sliding out as quietly as possible. As she dragged the body out of the car, Moriarty saw her. She looked up to see him grabbing the blond man next to him.
"Sebastian! GET HER!" he screamed, and just as quickly as Ada had killed the driver, Sebastian grabbed the gun from the pocket and shot her straight in the leg in an attempt at stopping the teenager from escaping. The level of accuracy despite the distance and the thick window between them was astonishing, but there was no time to think about that now. The adrenaline had not left her system, and she was still fast. She slammed the car door shut and opened the one by the driver's seat, before climbing in and starting the engine with the keys that had been left in the ignition.
The children had been taught to drive when they turned fourteen, and they had driven all manner of vehicles. This was not new. She could get away.
Sebastian had switched his aim to the tires and Ada slammed her foot down on the pedal, swerving the car away as fast as she could. The bullet ricocheted off of the door. Glancing back one more time at the look of the most extreme fury she had ever seen on Moriarty's face, she swerved off into the distance. Behind her, she could hear bullets and the final screams of the ordinary people who had witnessed her escape. Ada kept driving.
The present.
Ada had been in the hospital for five days, although she had only been awake for two of them, and it was finally time for her to be discharged. Though she was weak, particularly from the bullet wound in her leg, and was going to be on crutches for a few weeks, she felt positive. An hour ago, Mycroft had sent someone to help Ada to choose out some clothes from the many bags they had brought with them, and she had settled with a simple pair of jeans, some plimsolls, and a large knitted sweater over a grey t-shirt. It was the first time she had ever worn any clothes other than her uniform, and it was an odd experience. She picked at the sleeve of her jumper nervously.
There were footsteps in the hall, and Ada looked up to see Mycroft walk in. He smiled at her. "Hello Ada, are you ready to go?"
She nodded, and dropped down off the bed to slip her shoes on. Ever since she had woken up, everyone had noted how quiet she had been, and no one, not even Mycroft, could tell whether or not that was normal, because none of them had a clue how she had managed to reach Baker Street on her own with such a serious wound and such little understanding of the world. She hadn't felt ready to talk about it yet, and it didn't seem like a good idea to push it.
Walking through the hospital, though awkward with the crutches, was surreal. While she had been making her way to London, Ada had not been in a state to really pay attention to her surroundings, but now she was able to pay attention to her surroundings, and everything felt different. When they got into the car, she spent the whole journey staring out of the window, craning her neck so that she could see absolutely everything. To anyone else, the busy streets were a normal, mundane part of life, but to Ada they were alive with freedom and energy and purpose, and she loved it. After a while, they finally reached a street she recognised. The car slowed down until they reached a stop outside the block of flats behind which she had originally collapsed. She climbed out of the car, grabbing her crutches from the seat behind her, and allowed Mycroft to escort her up to the front door. He attempted a reassuring smile as he reached up for the knocker.
It opened almost instantly, as though there had been someone on the other side waiting for the pair to arrive. Stood in front of them was a very friendly, bubbly old woman who practically dragged them both inside, already excitedly offering up tea and biscuits and a full English breakfast.
"Ada, this is Mrs Hudson, the landlady." Mycroft explained.
"How do you like your tea dear?" Mrs Hudson asked her cheerily whilst she pottered around her kitchen, teabags in hand.
"Um, I've only had tea a couple of times, but milk and sugar sounds nice? Thanks."
The landlady gave her an incredibly pitying look upon hearing that she had only drunk tea a couple of times in her life, and put the kettle on to boil. Ada took the opportunity to discretely look around the kitchen and enjoy the feeling of being somewhere so colourful. She was used to white walls and floors and desks and beds and duvets and everything, but this room felt warm and calm and cosy, like a home instead of a hospital, and Ada never wanted to leave.
"How about I show you where you'll be staying, Ada?" Mycroft directed, and she nodded.
"I'll bring your tea up for you when it's ready, dearies." Mrs Hudson piped up, and with a polite smile, Mycroft guided the teenager out of the kitchen and up the stairs to flat 221B. As they got higher and higher, she became filled with burning curiosity, but also a strong sense of dread. Since she had woken up in the hospital, the matter of Sherlock Holmes and exactly why she had headed straight to the 221B Baker Street upon her escape had not exactly been approached, but the fact that she had been brought back there felt reassuring. It meant that she had not journeyed for two days with a bleeding bullet wound in her leg for no reason.
They door to the flat was open, and sitting on the sofa in front of them was Sherlock Holmes himself. He looked up at Ada and smiled slightly, and suddenly, she realised exactly how right she was about the connection between herself and this mysterious detective, and as amazing as it was, it was also absolutely awful.