Ok, another short chapter... BUT I typed it up in about an hour... I'm proud of myself. XD
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it... It doesn't have a lot to do with Sherlock... But it's necessary for the plot... You'll realize why in the next chapter. XD
I just watched the 'Russian Sherlock Holmes' has anyone else seen it? Apparently it came out in 2013... It's amazingly goooooood...
Harry stared into his glass filled with a strong sort of alcohol.
He wasn't sure anymore what it was, he'd had so many. His head hurt already, a pounding headache which he was sure would soon become a migraine if the pressure on his eyes was anything to go by. Frowning he took another swig from the glass and frowned as the liquid burned down his throat. It wasn't quite like firewhisky, but it would do for the time being. Besides, he couldn't very well come up to a muggle bartender and ask for a firewhisky.
Frowning again, he contemplated the orange-brownish liquid, every now and then splashing against the walls of the glass as he made a sudden movement. As he raised the glass to his lips once more, he noticed ripples appear in the liquid - whatever it was. Glancing down at his hand he noted it was shaking and with one longing glance at the glass, he set it back down on the counter of the bar. No more drinking tonight... After all, he still somehow had to get home.
Ah, home.
Two months had passed since he'd joined the PNSI. Two months since he'd started working properly... But his arrogance had got to him. Mycroft hadn't been looking to ruin him politically... or even financially... No, he'd been trying to ruin him psychologically... Via his financial status.
Somehow, that man, that insufferable man, had managed to convince the Apple company not to pay him his share until Harry turned twenty one. Apparently, that was the legal age to earn from a company. Legal age, my ass, Harry thought, snorting into his glass.
His money had quickly started running out after one month... Suddenly he couldn't pay the bills anymore, or even his flat. So, after two months of living in that small, but comfortable flat, he'd been thrown out onto the street by the landowner.
His income, from work, wasn't particularly large, just five pounds the hour, the minimum wage (for an 18 year old) legally allowed in Great Britain. *1 Hardly enough to pay his bills, flat, transport (train every day) and food.
On top of that, he'd been thrown out onto the street just today and as any sensible young man would do, he'd gone straight to the local pub to drink off his sorrow.
Glancing down at his glass, Harry contemplated it for another few seconds before he threw his head back, hitting the wall behind him slightly and chugged the rest of his drink down his throat. He set the cup down on the rickety counter and glared at the glass, full of ice, as if it was all it's fault.
"Brooke?"
Harry barely glanced up at the sound of his 'legal' name being spoken, he was glad he did though. Standing next to the counter, was a woman - Jenny, from his team. Her wavy brown hair was brushed back, although a little wet, presumably from the rain. Was it raining? Her make-up had been ruined, all of it was runny, and smeared upon her face as if she'd been crying. She was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a dark blue blouse, currently half hidden behind her thick professional looking coat.
"Yeah?" Harry answered back. Probably best to keep to short answers right now, seeing as his voice was raspy... And his speech would probably be quite slurred if he spoke. Jenny sighed deeply and slumped down into her seat, right next to the one in the corner which Harry had claimed.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, eyes narrowed. Harry narrowed his own, trying to look past his drunken haziness, and deduce something about her - anything.
"Oi! None of that deducing shit right now!" She exclaimed and sniffed his glass, raising an eyebrow as she realized what he'd been drinking. Harry just shrugged and raised his hand to the bartender, signalling for a new glass. Jenny frowned and pulled his hand back down. Glancing back at the confused bartender she gently shook her head, negating Harry's order.
"How drunk are you?"
Harry shrugged again, "That drunk that I can't deduce shit?" Harry mumbled and scratched the back of his head. Jenny furrowed her eyebrows and Harry smiled inwardly, admiring her inner strength. How strong was this woman exactly, to be drowning in her own misery, yet trying to help another human being?
"Well, then... spill?" It was formed as a sort-of question, but Harry could hear the demand behind it.
"I got kicked out of my flat," Harry muttered, suddenly feeling a little better to be spilling out his problems, "I have no money left... But you know what?" Harry asked, a crooked mile appearing on his face, "If I had all the money I wasted on drink... I buy more." Jenny whacked him on the back of his head with her rather hard leather bag. Harry rolled his eyes at her. "And you? What happened to you?"
He was about to raise his hand again, to signal the bartender, but Jenny pulled it down again. Ah... How could a person know him this well after two months? Better than Hermione and Ron had done after sever years.
"My boyfriend of two months dumped me." She sighed deeply, "Said he couldn't continue dating me when I have an autistic son."
"Harsh." Harry muttered, clutching his head which was slowly getting worse. Jenny shrugged and suddenly slipped off her chair.
"Well, then. Rich, come on stand up. You need a place to sleep, yeah?"
Harry blinked at her in confusion but finally nodded. "Yeah. I do."
"I have a free bedroom. If you want you can stay there, pay for the food and help out a little?" She asked a little hopefully. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Kindness? He hadn't encountered that for a while.
"Fine." He finally grumbled out. With a gentle smile, she slowly helped him up to his feet, and he flushed slightly when he realized he was swaying slightly. How had he allowed himself to sink so far into the world of alcohol?
They barely spoke on the way back to her own flat. It was only about two blocks away, but it took much longer as she had to support a swaying Harry down the street. As they walked, or rather stumbled, Harry could feel his mind clearing a little, the cold February wind helping a little. The 'larger on the inside' bag seemed to be weighing a lot suddenly.
The flat was small, well, a little bigger than Harry's former flat, but still small. The kitchen and the living room had been merged into one room, although it seemed to be the centre of the flat as there were four doors all going in different directions.
A young teenager greeted them, a frustrated look about her as she glared at one of the doors.
"Urgh! I'm not babysitting that monster again!" She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, grabbing her coat and rushing out the doors, not even pausing to get her pay.
Jenny groaned and slumped onto the sofa. "That's the third babysitter I've gone through in two weeks!"
Harry shrugged, and slid down to the floor, leaning against the wall, and hugging his legs to his chest with his hands, "My babysitters all hated me when I was a child. I turned out all right."
There was a pause, and slowly, Jenny rose slightly propping herself on her elbows so that she could see Harry over the top of the sofa.
"Yeah. I see that, you turned out all right. An alcoholic." She muttered sarcastically. Harry shrugged and said with a grin, "At least I didn't have a kid before I turned twenty-five."
Seconds later a cushion had slammed into his face. Before he could reply, there was a wail from one of the doors and a kid, dressed in a superman pyjama and no older than two suddenly bolted from the room, running to his mother, a frightened expression on his face as he hugged her waist. Harry quickly stood up, and wandered towards the kitchen area, noting that the babysitter had left the spaghetti boiling.
It was almost fifteen minutes later when Jenny wandered over to him, an exhausted look about her as she started helping him with the dishes. She had changed already and was dressed in a fluffy morning robe, concealing her nightie. Harry forced himself to concentrate on the dishes.
"So how old is he? The kid? What's his name?"
She glanced sideways at Harry, who was grimacing every now and then, due to the pain in his head.
"Do you want an aspirin?"
Harry stared at her incredulously, "With all the alcohol I had?" She had the decency to blush. "So...?" Harry prompted. She shrugged.
"He's two and a half. Autistic, mainly because I used antibiotic medicine while I was pregnant. At the time, they didn't know it could cause autism." Jenny paused her movements for a moment, before resuming to wash the dishes while Harry waited for her to give him one to dry off, "The father... He died about a year ago. That's why me and Phillip - that's my son's name - moved up here. To leave it all behind."
Suddenly she looked even more sullen. Her shoulders had slumped forward, and her neck was bent, causing the shadows around her eyes to increase and give her a more tired look. Harry awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder and patted it. Then, suddenly, there was another wail. Instantly Jenny's shoulders tensed and she straightened.
"Oh, God. Can't he just go to sleep?"
Before he knew it, Harry had thrown the towel on the counter and had moved to Phillip's room.
"I'll put him to bed... Just relax. I'm good with kids." Before she could answer he had opened the door and bolted through. Right, good with kids... Like hell. The best he'd ever done was the DA club at Hogwarts. Sighing he turned his attention to... Phillip.
The boy had stopped wailing the moment Harry had stepped through the door and was now staring at him curiously, not a little bit frightened. Harry smiled at him gently, trying to look friendly. It came out more like a grimace. Nevertheless, it seemed to work on the kid because seconds later, he smiled back.
Harry noticed a book on the bedside table and gestured to it, eyebrows raised. After a few moments, the boy nodded.
Taking the book in his hands, Harry turned it over to read the title.
Grimm's Fairy Tales.
Slowly, as not to alert the boy, Harry sat down on the bed, and opened the book, aware that Phillip was staring at him. Flicking over to a random page, Harry started reading, aware that this was probably the very first fairy tale he'd ever read. Well, apart from the one about the Deathly Hallows Hermione had read out to them.
"It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought to herself..."
...
Jenny felt slightly anxious about letting a half-drunken man into her son's room. OK, maybe not slightly anxious... Perhaps something more like... VERY anxious. Finishing the dishes, she glanced at Phillip's door, which had been left ajar.
Light shone through the little crack, and through that little crack, Jenny could hear Richard's gentle and calming voice muttering something to Phillip who giggled every now and then. How had Richard done it? He was obviously reading out from a book... But how? Whenever she did it, Phillip never seemed to care at all, and just... ignored her and continued playing with his toys.
It baffled her a lot... How Richard did many things. He was a genius, that much was obvious from how he solved cases by merely glancing at the reports. He was a gentle soul, well, at least that was what she saw, without looking deeper. She had tried to... Very hard, to look deeper into him... But he was so guarded.
That man, that impossible man, had lost so, so much. The pain was barely hidden behind the steel, cynical eyes. Sometimes though, when he wasn't guarding himself, she glanced at him and saw a sadistic, Machiavellian man who would do anything to be the most powerful. And at other times, he seemed like the most sensitive, gentle soul she had ever met. He was like... A living contradiction... And she felt so attracted by that.
Another giggle, though, snapped her from her thoughts and she glanced at the door once more. Silently, she sneaked up to the crack and glanced through it... and saw the most beautiful image.
Phillip was lying on the bed, clutching his duvet, staring at Richard, eyes wide and completely enraptured in the story Richard was telling.
The Grimm's fairy tales book was open on Richard's lap, but it seemed he had already finished the story, because instead from reading from it, he was grinning at Phillip, eyes wide as he told his own imaginary tale.
"...And then," Suddenly, Richard's voice had fallen to a whisper, "As the boy, Harry, stared at the mirror, he saw his reflection slip a red stone in his pocket. And then... Seconds later, he felt something heavy appear in his pocket..."
Jenny smiled gently, as she listened to the story herself.
Maybe, just maybe, she'd been waiting all her life for that one special person who seemed to understand her so well.
Ok... Sorry for all that Romantic shit. This is my first attempt in my life to write romance. Mainly cause when I write it... it sounds quite cheesy.
Anyway, so... someone's crushing!ยจ XD Anyway... The next chapter will have more to do with Sherlock and stuff... These scenes were necessary for the plot to continue. I hope they were all right.
So... If you want to... And only if you want to... I'm not pressuring you or anything... you could... leave a review?
