Chapter 36: The Shattered Fragments Of Answers

"What on earth is tha- SHERLOCK!" I shouted, placing my hands on my hips as I glared at him.

"What? I was bored," Sherlock said, frowning in confusion at the pieces of shattered glass on the floor and the acid slowly burning through the tiles, creating a putrid smell that spread through the flat.

I dropped to the floor in an over-dramatised movement of disapproval, placing my head in my hands as I groaned in frustration. It had been many, many weeks of Sherlock's antics, and the attempts John had made to find him a case had often been met with offhand comments and quick deductions that rendered the situation redundant.

"Maybe if you took on some of the cases John has suggested, you wouldn't be, and Mrs Hudson wouldn't have to repair the floor," I pointed out, my voice taking on a slightly nasty tone that I instantly regretted.

Sherlock seemed to take it in stride - literally - as he walked over to me to lift me over his shoulder. I shouted in opposition to the action as John walked through the door.

He rolled his eyes at the scene, a small smile working its way onto his face as he saw my pleading face, silently requesting assistance, and shaking his head.

"Come on, John, help me!" I whined, gently kicking Sherlock's front as I flailed.

"You're on your own in this one, Kayla," he laughed.

I laughed, despite my protests, and let my brother carry me around the room until John noticed the acid burning the floor.

"John's going to come back, right?"

"Kayla, just because he's spending the night on Sarah's couch does not mean that he will be leaving Baker Street. His brief moment of upset will not undo much," Sherlock said firmly, as if convincing himself of something would make it so.

I nodded, standing up from the chair before rolling my shoulder as it twinged from the movement. Several months of wearing slings, or almost-slings, and eating a stable diet, thanks to John, meant that I have recovered from the events that had led me to discovering my brother.

A slight pang went through my chest as I remembered my stupidity regarding Jim. The entire situation had been a fiasco, a blur of words and scenes as if it were a badly-written piece of theatre with too much confusion and not enough facts. Many of the facts were still unknown and some hidden by my drug-addled rampage through my mind palace. The order I had seen had become disorder that I had only recently had the time to repair, memories and emotions turned to facts and comparison.

Events changed everyone. But the core Being remained through the loss.

I was broken from my reminiscing by Sherlock walked over to the window, looking out as if it would show the answers to every question we had ever known. Instead, as he turned while I walked over, the window burst in a explosion of shattered light and noise that sounded like a scream as the world was obscured by black feathers.

I turned and gave a cry of shock as Sherlock folded his body over mine, almost by reflex, and his wings did the same. The room seemed to shake as the explosion resounded through everything I knew and could feel, the vibrations bursting through me as I shook.

After what felt like forever and no time at all, I opened my eyes to see the flat in chaos. Shattered glass lay everywhere, frequented by ash and dust from the explosion, as well as small shards of metal and wood. The only area free of any debris was that directly in front of us, protected by Sherlock's wings. We were unscathed, but shock still resounded through my body.

I felt hands on my shoulders, one firm, the other less so, spinning me to face Sherlock as I realised that my ears were ringing and that I couldn't hear anything over the cacophony. I lifted a hand to point to my ear as Sherlock mouthed words that I couldn't hear, only read.

"...explosion…not safe...brother...don't move…"

I nodded in basic understanding - the explosion meant that 221B was unsafe, and that Sherlock's brother would soon arrive. Moving would mean the danger of standing on glass, as we were both not wearing shoes. There was no other option. We retreated into our minds, waiting in the shattered fragments of answers.

Many things could be said about Sherlock's brother, but the thing that I favoured most about him at that point was his punctuality. It was not even ten minutes after the explosion before he arrived, accompanied by three medical specialists and two men carrying cleaning supplies. The former three completed a brief analysis of Sherlock and I before deeming us uninjured, and stating that the ringing in our ears would only be temporary. The two cleaners began sweeping up the glass and debris off of the furniture and floor, covering the surfaces with thick rugs that perfectly matched the interior of the room after they deemed each item satisfactory.

Mycroft made tea and gestured for us to move to the sofas, which had been cleaned first. He placed the tea on the table as Sherlock left his mind palace and looked around with barely-concealed annoyance at the lack of dust on each surface. He took his tea and sipped it, narrowing his eyes at Mycroft.

"Kayla, Sherlock;" Sherlock raised an eyebrow as Mycroft addressed him, "I do apologise for this occurrence. Believe me when I say that I shall personally ensure that you will never end up in this situation again."

I nodded, biting my lip. I'd been on enough cases and experienced enough of both worlds to know that this had not been any form of accident. Mycroft and Sherlock knew it, too, but the former was likely blaming himself for the occurrence more than the latter.

"Now, brother mine, this may not be the time, but I have a matter that requires investigation. If you would be so kind," Mycroft said in the tone of voice he reserved for his brother.

Sherlock opened his mouth, his face positioned in preparation to give a scathing reply that would surely lead to an argument, but was stopped from replying when John rushed in, moving frantically and eyes darting around, as if to absorb as much information as he could at one. He moved with a stiffness that could only come from sleeping on the couch and his hair was messy from the running he had surely been doing.

"We're okay, John," I said to him, and he rushed over to us as his eyes lit up.

I placed the tea on the coaster Mycroft had set down in front of me before hugging John. His breathing was shaky and his hands were hesitant, as if I were something easily broken. A chill ran through me - John hadn't known that we were alright until he had seen us. He let me go and I smiled at him in something meant to be reassuring but had surely failed.

"As much as I would love to take on your case, Mycroft, I have a matter of extreme importance to attend to. I will, however, provide an acceptable substitute," Sherlock informed Mycroft before finishing his tea in a thrown back gulp. I saw his recently-discarded phone on the table and he nodded at me before standing.

Mycroft wrinkled his nose at the display but stood in good grace. "John, Kayla," he bid us goodbye, each name accompanied by a nod. I waved my fingers as he exited, his shoes clicking on the floor as he did.

"John, I've received a call from Scotland Yard regarding a case that requires my immediate attention. Go deal with whatever mistake Mycroft's people have made," Sherlock said flippantly as he prepared to leave the flat.

"Kayla, go with John. I'll catch you both later!"

The door closed as we stood staring at the space where Sherlock had been. Turning to pick up the files, I was struck by the feeling of intense worry that seemed to cripple me from the inside out. Something bad was coming, and we were right in the middle of it.

Edit: 25.2.16