This chapter was so hard to write ugh; it's certainly not my favorite so far either. ;_; Sorry it took so long. I hope ya'll enjoy regardless.
Addie paid dearly for her little prank. Sherlock failed to appreciate the humor of being tricked; as such, he made her work more of a hell than necessary.
Oh, she was a part of the case now, as she read the g_1 files. No doubt about that. Sherlock had no choice now that she cleverly snuck into the whole affair. Addie received all that her heart desired: intimate dealings with the trafficking going on, extensive knowledge on all those involved, even other detectives who were also on the case.
But Sherlock made the poor girl work for it.
None of this dampened her spirits; not one bit. Addie rather prided herself on outsmarting the self-professed genius. The coat trick worked just as she had hoped, allowing her time to read up on the g_1 files during her ride to her uncle's apartment. Strangely enough Sherlock did not call or text her that evening, or at all. That Sunday she spent time leisurely strolling about on local streets. It was no trip to the Tower of London, but it was a start to her journey to knowing the place.
That Monday after school was when the hell began.
She had the files with her, tucking it safely inside a glittering, hot pink folder she picked just for Sherlock. He sat in his armchair, the TV off, when Addie arrived. Fingertips touched, resting delicately under his chin; he stared straight forward, lost in his intricate musings. Though he leaned forward, leaning on his knees, his was stiff.
Addie did not miss the tense clench of his jaw. Sherlock was not happy.
"I read the files." she eventually muttered quietly. The few minutes of silence that stagnated the room since Addie arrived unnerved her.
"Obviously."
That dark voice again. It spooked her sometimes. Imaginary Sherlock, looming over her mind even now, did not help at all. He stood as still and dangerous-looking as his real counterpart would have had he not been sitting in his deceptive calm. Addie tried to push him out of her mind before continuing. Dealing with one Sherlock at the moment was enough.
"So...you want it back?"
Still staring into the empty television screen, a hand whipped out impatiently for the folder. She handed it over without any further fuss. Sherlock sat up a little; the folder was opened and he flipped through the files, skimming them with disinterest. Then it was closed and tossed back to her rather roughly.
"These files are useless. To me, anyway. It seems Lestrade had nothing to hide from me as I had thought."
"What?" Addie gasped. She flipped through the pages herself. It was all new to her, of course, but was this all that they had to go off of? According to what she read, there was nameless trafficker who went by "G1". Some thought it referred to the name General. What he, or she, trafficked was largely unknown, though it was suspected to be imports from other nations. His success lay in the closing and opening of random shops, each one unique from the other, using an entirely new system of symbols to advertise their wares.
Over all, the details were vague, wish-washy. Other than a list of closed-down store fronts that previously held the stolen "items" and where they came from there was nothing much of use.
"I'll need you to return it. You know where the station is now." Sherlock continued. He returned to his staunched over, deep-thinking pose.
Addie stiffened. "You mean by myself?"
"Being rather busy at the moment, yes, by yourself."
And that was how Addie returned, alone, to the police station. Again she found herself standing in front of the file office door, the lights inside, as usual, off. But how could she do it? There was no Sherlock to distract the new security system, nothing to aid her in returning the files unnoticed.
The papers were tucked back into their original, bland folder, hidden away again in her warm green coat as before. Imaginary Sherlock sneered at her cowardice and fear.
You claimed you are smarter than I, a professional! Surely this is easy enough for you to figure out. He told her cruelly. Vibrant eyes judged her tiny, shaking frame, egging her to think fast and do something already.
No, I need to be calm, think things through, Addie told herself firmly. If she worked right under the cops nose, she could do it again, with or without her mentor.
"Oh, you again."
Addie recognized the voice, though she only heard it once before. Anderson leaned on the doorway of the break room with a styrofoam cup filled with fresh tea in hand. Although his hair had the air of being combed and cared for, she couldn't help but think it looked wiry and even greasy, a tussle of mousey brown framing his pale face. It sat there, gaunt and long, his nose just the same. Beady, dark brown eyes stared at her with obviously distrust. He couldn't have been standing there for long.
"What about me?" Addie asked in reply. She tried her best to keep her tone even.
"Aside from looking like you just got dropped off from school, you're not here with your psycho friend."
Addie reddened ever so slightly; a hand self-consciously smoothed her plaid school skirt, almost forgetting she wore her homely uniform. What could she say? Was he catching onto her misdeed already? After those years of working under the noses of New Orleans' police men, she still couldn't feel confident around those folk.
"Maybe...I just like visiting."
Convincing response, Miss Thuot.
You shut your mouth, Addie snipped at Imaginary Sherlock. He was smiling in amusement now, practically eating up her bumbling attempts.
"Oh sure, visiting." Anderson continued, completely clueless of the argument going on in her head. He eyed her more carefully. "Traveled across the ocean from America, you did, just to visit our out-of-date coffee maker."
Addie did not know what to respond with. No snark, no insults, nothing. Any voice she had hid away instinctively. When he saw the girl would not respond, the man sighed in annoyance.
"Look, kid, I don't like you sneaking around here. Just run off, will ya?"
"...A'ight."
One pregnant, awkward pause later, Addie walked away. Imaginary Sherlock taunted her ceaselessly.
Not as smart as you think. Looks like you still have to learn a thing or two from me. Overconfident, immature, lazy, ignorant-minded: just as I thought you to be.
Aren't you supposed to be some kind of Jiminy Cricket? Help me out here. Addie told him as she tried to squish down feelings of dread.
I am not your adorable animal friend armed with rainbows and glitter to soften your way into destiny. The response was harsh on her inner ear.
She was outside again; there was no point in trying anything in the building. Anderson would certainly spot her re-entry and then the file. People bustled to and fro around her, a few bumping into her along the way without apology, as Addie simply stood there at a loss. The police would sooner rather than later discover it missing; perhaps they knew even now. Either way there was no use in keeping it. An older man passed by, throwing his empty paper bag into a grimy looking garbage can. Green eyes widened in hope.
Don't you dare you insipid, foolish-!
But it was too late. The g_1 file was slipped out from between her coat layers and deftly tossed in with the moldy trash. Addie walked on without missing a beat, feeling her face burn up in dread at what she just did.
Imaginary Sherlock was livid and almost as wild as his curly hair. What in the hell was that?!
Addie, standing much taller than she felt, replied, My brilliant plan to keep our names in the clear.
Besides, the real Sherlock doesn't have to know, right?
Indeed, no one had to know. Imaginary Sherlock could disagree and call her names to his heart's desire; but at that moment, Addie could care less as she sighed in temporary relief.
Before entering Sherlock's flat again, Addie made sure her fiery hair covered her ears. There was still much she had to do to stop her ears from reddening every time she hid something from her mentor; for now, her ears would be shaded against her dark red locks. She went inside after being satisfied with the result shown on her camera phone.
"You still sittin' around?" Addie noted. Sherlock did not look to have moved an inch since her departure. Happy that the focus was not on her she continued the one-sided conversation. She peeled off her coat as she spoke.
"You know, I never was introduced to them cops you work with. I met one while I was there. That guy, Anderson, I think he called you a psycho."
"High-functioning socio-path." Sherlock grumbled. His far-off stare transformed into a glare, piercing into the blank TV screen. Addie, her boots now off, flopped onto her belly and laid facing Sherlock on the couch.
"What's the difference? All ya'll crazy anyway."
"The difference is that I'm smart about what I do." he answered in annoyance. He got up, and finally looked over at her.
Addie could recognize the gaze now, the one that warned her that Sherlock was trying to observe her being, assuming what she was up to and what she just did. Ears burned under her hair, safely covered; she smiled innocently enough as she placed her hands under her chin.
"...Put your shoes on." was all Sherlock could say. "There's something I want to show you."
"What about the case?" She did as she was told anyway. "Aren't we gonna investigate and stuff?"
"As far as I know, the case is cold. I'd rather spend my time being more fruitful, and - hurry up you lazy girl!" he suddenly snapped, noticing that Addie took her sweet time stretching and getting comfortable. Only one boot was on and her coat remained on the couch's arm.
"It's not lazy, it's called bein' relaxed." Addie corrected with a stifled laugh. Now that the threat of Sherlock finding out her misdeed was gone, she suddenly felt lighter. "Geez, are you always so wound up?"
"I am not wound up, I merely have high expectations."
"Like I said: wound up."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. Addie eventually dressed for the outdoor weather, and so the two left. The sun was nearly under the horizon now, many of the city lights brightening the early evening. Addie smiled when she saw the tip top of Big Ben in the distance.
"Have you ever seen the Thames?" Sherlock asked after a while. Addie looked up at him, surprised. She did not anticipate such a casual question.
"Um, no, I guess." Addie told him. They rounded another corner, and the dull whisper of running water covered by city activity brushed her ever so lightly. She hopped over a large crack in the sidewalk, and began a silly game of avoiding other crevices. Her eyes looked down, entertained by her little jumps, though she continued to speak.
"We're goin' to the river?" she said.
"Consider it one of those lessons you've been begging me to give you." Sherlock said. They were approaching a park now, though they walked just along side of it. Addie began to wonder if she should have warmer tights underneath her skirt. The night was here now, it's darkness matching the hard bite in the growing breeze. To her surprise the air also felt thicker, as if it were humid.
They soon came up to a bridge, cars and busses whizzing back and forth. She had a feeling they weren't using the bridge.
"Careful now, the water's cold and I'm not going to take you to the hospital if you fall in."
He slid down the slope as if he had done this a million times before. Addie treaded much more slowly after him. She was half way down under the bridge when she slipped quite a bit, getting mud on her hands and arms and almost tripping further to the bottom. A protruding boulder caught her fall and she lightly jumped to the river bank. Mud and grime shook off of her body when she flapped her arms towards the ground.
"So what am I learnin' to – Holy Hell!"
Half-way out of the icy river lay a rotting, water-logged pig. The creature looked frozen, and even slightly chipped, the thick skin also puffy and blue. Around it's neck was a metal brace, connected to the chain like an organic anchor. Sherlock struggled to fight against the currents and urged her over.
"Take a bit of the chain – that's it – now pull!"
Not a moment longer and the whole pig surfaced. It dumped unceremoniously onto the sand and dirty snow.
"What kind of messed up stuff you teachin' me today?" Addie asked as she caught her breath. Sherlock took out his phone and a pocket flashlight, taking clear pictures of the cadaver.
"You are going to help me learn what happens to the decaying bodies of murder victims." he took another shot, and then kicked the pig onto it's back. "Dumping bodies into the Thames is a common and easy way for murderers to dispose of the evidence. Still, not the most clever."
Addie crouched down. She was no stranger to dead animals, though she was used to working with them headless and fresh.
"Although pigs have much in common with human anatomy, I am still no expert on swine. That's where you come in." he continued, his photography done and handing her the flash light.
"What makes you think-"
"Your hands, Miss Thuot. I could tell from your hands." he said dismissively. "Now tell me: what can you gather from what you see?"
Addie glared at him before aiming the light again on the belly-up pig. She was going to have to read up all those wall of texts on Sherlock's website if she were to be on par with his observation skills.
"Um...well, it's frozen."
"Do go on."
"No need for the sass." she muttered under her breath. She leaned in closer; the stench of the thing made her pull up her coat over her nose. The light went over the pig's belly and feet, and even at the mouth and eyes. Despite being frozen, and having looked to be frozen for quite some time, there were still a few signs of decay as well.
"When was the pig thrown in? Like, in the summer or winter?"
"You tell me. What can you infer from what you see? From what you know?"
Addie thought hard before answering. Sherlock was surprisingly patient in waiting for her answer.
"Maybe...maybe it was in the river when it was warmer out. Then before it got too rotten, the winter came and made it too cold to decay anymore." she eventually put together. Did we ever go over stuff like this in biology?
Sherlock nodded. He did not give any other indication of whether or not he as satisfied with the answer.
"Decent enough explanation I suppose. Well, let's dump the fellow back in."
The two stood, using their feet to roll the pig back into the depths of the Thames. It fell in with a large splash, spraying their ankles, before it finally sunk.
Addie looked up at the steep bank and groaned. Did she really have to climb up that thing? Big Ben chimed eight times in the background as they made their way back up.
"You know, I didn't think bein' an intern entailed me sneaking to the river at night." Addie huffed out as she lead the way up. Sherlock insisted, and for good reason. The girl already nearly slid down twice, and had to be caught and pushed back into place.
"When you start doing what needs to be done, you often find yourself well away from the box you confine yourself in." he grunted, catching the bottom of her boot again and giving her a boost. It was all that she needed to clammer back to the top on her own. She offered a hand to Sherlock but he merely climbed to the top on his own in one pull.
Addie looked over her front and saw it covered in mud and moist from the snow. She was already shivering.
"Well, maybe my box is a lot drier and warmer at the moment." she started as they walked back towards his flat. Once inside, Mrs. Hudson was distraught at the sight of the near-frozen girl.
"Sherlock! What on earth are you doing this girl? Really! Shouldn't you be back at home, dear?"
Addie allowed herself to be fussed over, enjoying the attention. Her coat was peeled off and taken to the bathroom to be wiped off while the land lady started up a kettle for tea. She was also given a cozy, well-worn quilt, ordering her to sit down in front of the heater, and to take off her drenched socks and boots. Sherlock retreated to his room, laptop at hand, doing whatever he needed to do with his newly obtained phone pictures.
Addie wrapped herself tighter in the quilt, breathing in its scent. It was woodsy, strange as it was for a flat in the middle of London. It was addictively cozy and almost felt like it was self-warming. Mrs. Hudson returned with a steaming cuppa. Addie took it, giving her thanks, and sipped the creamy, spiced mixture.
"What kinda tea is it?" she asked as the matron sat down with her own drink.
"It's one of those fancy autumn drinks they sell." she said, sounding rather delighted for having found it while shopping. But then she frowned a little. "Addie, do be careful from now on, won't you? Sherlock doesn't particularly pay attention to the needs of others."
"Hey, I can tough it out." Addie assured her with a shrug. "I mean, why else would Sherlock make me his intern? He thought I was good enough for the job."
"And entertaining enough, I would think." Mrs. Hudson shared with a disproving look. "He means quite a bit to me, for things he's done for me in the past, and I do think somewhere in there Sherlock is more human than he lets on. But I know reality when I see it." She sighed. "Our dear Sherlock does whatever he fancies, regardless of who is in the way."
Addie sipped before answering. Being rather fond of Mrs. Hudson prevented her from snapping back a biting response, for she heartily disagreed. "Sherlock wouldn't waste his time with an idiot. He said he was going to give me opportunities, and make use of my talents."
Mrs. Hudson laughed, now bristling Addie's nerves, though she continued to keep her temper in line.
"He can see both resource and humor in you, dearie. Don't underestimate his carelessness. Now, what is your home number? I might as well keep it if Sherlock insists on keeping you out past dark. You need a ride home."
After sharing her number, Addie insisted on calling her uncle herself, claiming that he never answered numbers he didn't recognize. When Mrs. Hudson walked to the kitchen to wash their cups, Addie instead called a cab service. There was no way she was going to let her Uncle Rémy know of her escapades. Often out late himself kept the man from knowing of his niece's activities.
The job was done once Mrs. Hudson returned with her coat, freshly cleaned and dry. Her boots and socks had warmed up as well. Addie assured Mrs. Hudson that her uncle was on his way to pick her up, and after she dressed and folded up the quilt, walked out the door. She did not know that Mrs. Hudson watched her walk down the street and down the corner. She did not know that worry and concern etched her aging features.
Addie later silently thanked Mrs. Hudson for urging her to return home. Just minutes after she changed from her school uniform and into her pajamas, Uncle Rémy came home and demanded to speak with her.
When she came out of her room, Addie saw that he was not angry, or even annoyed: simply serious. The blonde, olive-skinned man loosened his tie and threw it off, his outer coat following, before he started. He took some orange juice out of the fridge as Addie took a seat at the little kitchen table.
"I think I'm not raising you right." he stated after a few gulps. "When was the last time we hung out, anyway?"
"Ten years ago, at Mardi Gras. You and Papa took me to the parade and made cover my eyes half the time."
Rémy cleared his throat. The juice was returned to its spot in the fridge and faced her, leaning on the appliance. "Yeah, so your dad and I haven't always been the greatest. But this needs to change. You know how your mom got you into...well, that mess you got caught up in?"
Addie instinctively froze up at the mere mention of the event. She relaxed again just as quickly.
"Ouais. I remember." she stated coldly at the memory.
"The reason you got into that trouble was because your mother never bothered to keep an eye on you, and my idiot brother was no better. So, I'm going to put you under my wing more." he finished with a half-earnest smile.
Addie, however, did not like it one bit. "What? But I'm not doing anything!" Well, I was going to until Sherlock showed up. She pushed the burning thought out of her mind. "I'm just fine the way I am right now."
"I don't trust you." Rémy responded dryly. "Besides, we're the only Thuots left that didn't get sucked into the ring. Your Mami's side of the family was smart enough to stay out of it, and some of my cousins too, but..."
He did not need to finish. Addie tried to swallow but found her throat burning. Shadows of that time, just last summer, was thrown out of her mind before she could dwell any more on it.
"I would, but...I have an internship now." Addie slowly began.
"Internship? For you?" he asked with skepticism.
"Yeah, he works with the police department." she half-lied. "He's teachin' me stuff."
"I'll have to meet the guy then. What's his name?" Rémy asked as he looked for a snack.
"Sherlock Holmes. He has a website."
"I'd rather meet the man behind the website." He found a long lost Twinkie, and opened it. "Tell him to give me a call."
"I'll try." Addie affirmed, hiding her nervousness about the whole thing. She was so used to keeping her life private. But now not only was Sherlock deducing her past piece by piece, but her uncle would put his nose into her current life as well. It was oddly discomforting.
"It's almost nine, get to bed, will ya?" he said as he stuffed down the pastry. She went to her bed indeed, though she could not rest. Ever since Addie was caught red-handed in the theft of the ancient hair pin, her world was no longer her own. Would Sherlock share with her uncle of their escapades? Was he smart enough to say otherwise? What embarrassing things would Uncle Rémy share of her weaknesses?
Addie rolled over, facing the snow-tinted window. Reaching up to draw designs on the frost, she saw that she still wore the red metal bracelet. She smiled, continuing to play with the window and look out at the city lights before she finally fell asleep.
That Tuesday morning, Addie woke up feeling refreshed. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Christmas break started next week. Or perhaps she had momentarily forgotten about what her uncle spoke with her about last night.
Still, she dressed for school, grabbed her small breakfast, and headed out the door. After school she would have to talk with Sherlock about meeting Uncle Rémy. For now, she had to push through seven hours of testing and study hours.
Ah, studying. That's something Addie forgot to do. It would have scared her if she cared more than she did.
A part of her wondered if faking her stupidity was worth it. Maybe if she simply aced her classes, no one would bother her. The homework was dully easy, anyway. Just get the work done and get a good grade. Then again, wouldn't it look suspicious if she suddenly went from "Most Likely to Drop Out" to "Most Likely To Succeed?"
I'll half-ass it then, Addie giggled to herself. Aim for a C or something.
Liking the idea, Addie fiddled with her now-beloved bracelet and continued her way down the street. A buzzing from her pocket took her out of her inner musings. She flipped open her phone.
We got a murder case. Meet me at 342 Umberway.
-SH
Addie stopped, avoiding the other commuters by leaning against the wall. She bit her lip. Should she really skip school? She only had one test today, and it was for Home Economics, the only class she was passing.
Then again, it was the last class of the day. Addie wondered if she could skip the rest of the school day and return just before the end. The test would be easy enough.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pocketed her phone back into her backpack. This was going to be a long day, and her gut churned at the thought of such an adventure.
