Elise rode in the cab next to John and Sherlock once again, this time a bit more animate. She was now engaged in a serious conversation with John… about the proper way to carry a person suffering from a concussion.

"Four-hand carry." Elise said yet again.

"No, you'd make a stretcher." John argued.

"With the stretcher you'd scare the person with the injury. If you had no idea what was going on, and then someone plops you on a stretcher, you'd be rather frightened." Elise concluded her argument, her slate and blue eyes sparkling with a hidden smirk.

John rolled his eyes. "I suppose." He knew he was beaten, but he hated arguing with a thirteen year old… especially if he was wrong.

The cab arrived back at the flat and John seized the opportunity, as Elise wasn't feeling depressed anymore. "Er… Elise, want a sandwich?"

Elise shrugged. "I'll make it myself. Thank you, Doctor Watson."

She sprinted into the flat, (as it was now cold and she had forgotten her jacket) and opened the fridge. Staring back was a severed head. Blinking, she closed the door and approached Sherlock. "Your bloody head has ruined the cold cuts."

Sherlock shrugged.

So Elise made herself a peanut butter sandwich instead, as she figured nothing in the fridge would be safe to ingest. She then made another one, bringing it out on a plate to Sherlock, who was staring at the wall, obviously in his mind palace. It was funny how his movements in the air matched her father's when he entered his. Setting the plate down, she exited the kitchen, going into 221C.

She took her antibiotics and sat down on the bed, fingering the locket around her throat.

"The locket." Came a voice from the hallway. She jumped, and turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway.

"Yeah? What about it?" Elise asked quickly, hiding it back under her blouse.

"It's very sentimental. It's broken, but you kept it anyway. You're too young to have had any long boyfriends, so it's from a parental figure, but not your mother, since you don't have a strong connection with her. Mycroft would never buy such a thing, so I'm going with Anthea." Sherlock deduced, hands in his pockets.

"Well, you're wrong for once." Elise snapped.

"Really? Who's it from then?" Sherlock asked.

"Andy." Elise whispered.

((FLASHBACK))

A seven year old Elise sat by her father and Anthea on a couch.

"Happy Birthday Elise," he said, ruffling her hair. He handed her a box.

Elise grinned so brightly she thought her face would crack. "Oh, thank you!" inside was a little stuffed tabby cat.

"What are you going to name it?" Asked Mycroft, watching Elise hug the cat.

Elise pondered it for a minute. "….Anthea!" she said, watching the real Anthea's eyes widen in surprise.

"Well, we wouldn't want the real Anthea getting mixed up, so why not Annie instead?" Mycroft picked up the cat, nodding its head with his thumbs. "See, she likes it."

Elise stuck out her lip. "Okay." She sat the cat down in her lap, then asked the question Mycroft and Anthea had been dreading all morning. "Where's Andy?"

"Look, Elise, you know that Andy's off at boarding school, an-" Anthea was interrupted by the front door opening.

"I got a ride back!" Andy called to his father, who looked rather shocked.

"Andy!" Elise laughed, hugging her 14 year old brother about the legs. "Hullo, kitten!" Andy hugged her back, using the nickname her had given her when she was first born, and he told his mother she looked like a kitten.

Setting her down, Andy retrieved a box from his pocket. "I got you a present," he explained, handing it to Elise, who opened it to reveal a little locket.

"Happy birthday, Elise." He grinned, hugging her tightly.

((END FLASHBACK))

"How'd it break?" Sherlock asked a bit more intrigued.

((ANOTHER FLASHBACK))

"Take that, you little know-it-all!" The girl slapped Elise again, laughing as she tried to wrench her arms from the other girl's grips. "Insult me again, I dare you."

Elise, refusing to break, hissed back. "You have security issues and a drug problem."

Shrieking, the girl punched Elise in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. The locket hung, the few rays of light in the alley shining off of it.

"Oh, what's this?" the girl asked, feigning innocence as she ripped it off Elise's neck, throwing it into the road.

Suddenly an officer's shouts permeated the darkness, and the three girls ran off, leaving a bruised and beaten Elise behind.

The Officer swore before running to Elise. "Oh sweetie, c'mon, you've got to stay with us," he told Elise, as she drifted into unconsciousness.

"My… my locket…it's in the road…" she told the officer before passing out.

When Elise awoke, she was in a hospital bed, an IV attached to her arm and bandages around the cut marks on her arms and face.

Anthea sat in a corner, her face white and teary.

"An… Anthea…" she called out, her voice rough and her throat sore.

Anthea's head jerked up, and she came to Elise's side. "Oh, Mycroft was so frightened…"

"Where's my locket?" Elise asked quietly.

Anthea reached onto the bedside table. "It was funny, the officer her found you insisted he return it."

The locket was smashed, and the chain was beyond repair, so Anthea took one of her own necklaces off her neck, moving the charm to her bracelet. "Here's a new chain for it." She gently took the locket out of Elise's bruised fingers, slipping it on the chain and onto Elise's neck.

((END FLASHBACK))

Sherlock stored the information in his mind palace, into a room far into the corner labeled "Elise."

Author's Note

Here's some more Anthea for you guys, I know how much you love her.

Anyway, review, follow, favorite and send oreos.

-ATLK