Adele barely slept that night, which, in a way, was good. No flashbacks, no replays of Sherlock's jump. But being sleep deprived wasn't great, particularly when she wanted to think and plan. And when your being forced to talk to the school counsellor, being sleep deprived doesn't work out in your favour.

Still, she would have to deal with it, which was easier said than done. One, she had said too much in her normal state of mind yesterday, which meant that it was quite likely that she would do the same thing today. Two, she only had eight days to figure out how to tackle her current situation. Joy.

As she walked out of the room, Adele caught sight of herself in the mirror. Under normal circumstances, such as two weeks ago, her hair would be perfectly neat, flowing down her back, curling at the end. Apart from the scar across her cheek, her skin was pale, and her eyes were bright blue, and questioning. Today, her hair was static, getting in her eyes and obscuring her vision. Her skin was pretty much the same, but there were bags under er eyes from the sleepless night. Her eyes were empty, not as alive as they used to be. A mess. Not strong, as she had always been. One of these days she was going to have a nervous breakdown.

Sighing, she left the house, happy that she would be out of it in just over a week. It was dull and boring, just like most things. Her mood was punctured, however, by a text alert;

Lighten up. You'll know everything soon enough.

SH

Lighten up? That wasn't exactly easy. She had a full day of school in front of her, a meeting with Lestrade, and eight whole days before she found out everything. That wasn't soon enough, that was ages. It occurred to Adele once again that the entire thing was a trap, and that there would be someone with a gun waiting there for her. But what if it wasn't a trap and it was something good? Except the only good thing that she could think of was the mysterious stranger. That could be good or bad, because while she was desperate to know who it was, Adele couldn't help thinking that whoever it was might be out to get her, or dangerous. But maybe she was being paranoid. Or maybe not.

Eliza was waiting for her at the school, having gotten there earlier, for once. Adele ad never arrived early purposefully, but she had nothing better to do with her time, so had just left the Daines house before she died of boredom, or had to talk to anyone.

'You look – '

'Pale? I might have guessed. Why are you here so early?'

'I have nothing better to do. And how did you know what I was going to say?'

'You say the same thing almost every day. It's basic deduction, and if you, the person saying the words doesn't pick it up, then you're in real trouble.'

'Okay then. You speak – '

'Like someone three times my age?'

'Alright, I get your point.'

'Good.'

Their first lesson was English, which basically involved sitting in the same spot for an hour whilst writing down what an author means by 'the curtains were blue'. Of course, the teacher decided that it symbolised the mood of the narrator, or something depressing like that, and frowned when Adele answered the question with: 'The curtains are blue because the author couldn't think of any other colour. Not everything has some sort of deeper meaning.'

After English, Adele led the way into the second lesson, which was RE. Her least favourite lesson. Adele didn't care for any of the lessons anyway, but she had a special hatred for RE. It bored her, and causing trouble only amused her for fifteen minutes at the most. When the class finally shut up, the teacher began to speak;

'I want you to think back, back to your strongest and most prominent memory, something which really stands out.'

Adele could think of that quite easily. A summer's day, drizzle in the air, a product of global warming. A call, from Sherlock, asking her to meet him at St Barts. It was important.

'Who would like to go first?' When nobody volunteered, she decided to pick. 'Adele?'

Adele shrugged. 'I see two men. One well built, rich, possibly, wearing an expensive suit. Consulting criminal. He has a gun, pointed at the other. When he speaks, his voice is soft, but it's all deliberate. It can be harsh, but his aim is to manipulate. He doesn't need to yell. He taunts the other. Threatening. His hair is cut short, and he is overall smaller in statue than the other.

'The second man is slim. And taller He stands straight and tall, perfectly poised. He wears a long, black trench coat. As the wind blows, his dark, curly hair is forced in all directions. He brushes a stray piece from his eyes. His skin is pale, but not from fear. This isn't someone who can be scared easily. After several minutes of speech the first man shoots himself. He lies dead. The other staggers, unsure of himself. Something isn't quite right, and he knows that. He pulls out a phone. The call is crucial.

'The two people he is calling are on ground level. They look up, and there he is, on the ledge, ready to jump. They try to stop him, to persuade him to come down, but he refuses. It's too late.

'He jumps, or dives, flailing as he falls gracefully through the air. As he lands, everything is in slow motion. Blood pours from his head, straightening his hair. The two kneel beside him, willing for it to be a dream. But it's not. He's dead.'

Adele's words were met by silence from the rest of the class. Some were looking at her in fear, others avoiding looking her in the eyes. Then –

'Out. Now.'

It wasn't as though Adele hadn't anticipated this. Admittedly, there were better ways to ruin a lesson, but her aim had been to shock. People were woefully ignorant these days, and full of questions. This way, she was answering them, and shocking the class, which was basically killing two birds with one stone. She had tried that with real birds, but had only managed to kill one before the stone came hurtling back to earth, hitting Sergeant Donovan on the arm. It had been quite funny, until Sherlock was told that he had to discipline her properly, and Lestrade had told her that if she tried again she would be banned from any more crime scenes. At that point, Sergeant Donovan had called her a 'complete psychopath'. Sherlock came to her defence quickly, telling Sergeant Donovan that psychopathy was a serious mental disorder, and whilst Adele possessed some traits of psychopathy, she was certainly not a psychopath. By this time, Adele had gathered several more stones, and was seriously considering throwing them at Sergeant Donovan. Unfortunately, Sherlock had taken them off her before she could get herself in anymore trouble. He let her throw them at a picture of Sergeant Donovan later on in the day. But it wasn't the same as throwing stones at a real person. She had come close to doing the same thing when Sergeant Donovan had called her sadistic, crazy, and mental.

Out in the corridor, Adele could hear the talking from the classroom. She caught snippets of conversation. Most of them involved the word 'freak', or 'weirdo'. Adele had heard worse, so it didn't really bother her, but she didn't understand why she had been sent out for doing what she was told to do. It was twisted logic. Still, at least now, after she had been yelled at, she would be late for the meeting with the stupid counsellor. A text alert interrupted her thoughts, causing Adele to swear as she fished her phone from her pocket;

You enjoy scaring people. You don't care for the consequences. A trait of psychopathy. I can list the others, if you would like.

SH

Alright, so she enjoyed scaring people. She didn't care about the consequences. And she was probably a bit messed up in the head. But psychopathy was slightly over the top. Or was it? Adele was tempted to say yes, but she didn't at the same time. Her thoughts were interrupted however, by the RE teacher.

'Explain.'

'I did what you asked. It's not as if I did it deliberately.'

'It looked deliberate.'

'Well, it wasn't.'

The teacher clearly didn't want to go much further into the reasoning behind Adele's argument. Inside the classroom, the other kids were yelling, throwing books, and causing a complete disturbance. Adele was now starting to get a headache. This was not one of her good days.

'You're late. Go.'

Adele turned on her heel and left. She dawdled, taking the 'scenic' route, outside. The sun was out, forcing Adele to squint as she left the dark and dismal school building. There were plenty of ways to run away from here, but even Adele couldn't take out the school security system. It would be fun to try, but there were more important things to be getting on with.

As she turned to go back inside, ten minutes late, she received a text. Checking it, she inwardly groaned;

Eight days. Don't forget.

SH

'Adele!'

Shit.

'Inside, now!'