"The British Political System," Alison muttered as she sat down on the floor of 221B Baker Street. John remained sat at the desk, his laptop open and his eyes staring at the screen which showed his last post on his blog. He didn't feel like writing anymore. He never felt like writing. All that he wanted to do was hideaway in the flat but he knew he needed a job.
"When am I ever really going to need this?" Alison snapped, making notes on the 'First Past the Post Voting System.' John looked down onto her as she leant against the sofa and he smiled gently. "It's bad enough I'm a third year...I don't know why I even agreed to go back to college."
"Because you're a bright girl and Sherlock would have wanted that for you even if he said it was dull," John told her quickly and she bit down on her bottom lip but nodded once at John and returned back to her writings. "Besides, your uncle would most certainly want you to know about Politics."
The doctor watched her intently for a bit before she looked up at him, realising he was, indeed, off-putting her.
"You know," she drawled, "if you sit there and keep watching me then I will definitely fail my exams when Christmas comes around."
"Sorry," John muttered, turning back to the screen as he did so and Alison smirked gently, focusing on her writings.
"It's alright," she grinned. "I can't stay too late, John. Mycroft has curfews, apparently."
"Of course he does," John muttered simply. "How about we do something this weekend?"
Alison nodded simply at him, chewing on her pen for a moment and then smiling at him through her large eyes and John smiled back, seeming slightly calmer than he had been before she had arrived. The stress was getting to him. The thought of having to get another job and the worry of rent didn't do him any good.
"You can treat me to a nice fancy meal, Doctor Watson," she teased him but John didn't pick up on her underlying joking tone and instead his face turned a deep shade of red. He didn't have the spare money to take her somewhere fancy. He didn't have the money to treat her like he wanted. What did he have to give her?
"I thought...well...actually...never mind...I'm probably busy this weekend," John muttered and went back to looking at his laptop as Alison looked up at him, her face scrunched up and her eyes narrowed in his direction, wondering what had suddenly changed his mind. She had only been messing with him.
"I didn't mean it, John," Alison muttered, tucking her curls behind her ears as she stood up slowly, grabbing her stuff as she went and placing it onto the coffee table.
"It's not the point, Alison," John snapped back at her, his voice loud and stern as he slammed his fists down onto the wooden surface, his eyes glaring into hers. "I don't have any money...I don't have a job...the rent here is too much for me and I can't give you what you need."
Alison remained silent, crossing her ankles together as she bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes cast to the floor as John dropped his head into his hands, sniffing once as he did so.
"I don't need anything," Alison whispered to him simply, the pair of them still not looking at each other. "I don't want anything from you, John."
"It isn't the point," John huffed back to her, his voice slightly muffled by his hands holding onto his mouth before he ran a hand through his hair. "The point is that I can't be like a normal...well...we can't have a normal relationship...Alison..."
"Why can't we?" she challenged him. "If this is about age then-"
"-It isn't," John promised her quickly before she could go off on another rant and he shook his head, managing to look back at her. "This is to do with the fact that I can't...you deserve so much better...Alison..."
"Shut up," Alison complained, rolling her eyes and picking her books back up, pressing them to her side as she grabbed her car keys from the wooden bowl on the table. "If you need...well...money..."
"No," John said curtly. He wasn't taking any money from her. She didn't have control over her accounts as Mycroft was now her legal guardian. He didn't need pity pennies. "I will manage."
"I just don't want to see you struggle, John," she informed him and he snorted once, leaning back in his chair and patting the arms of it.
"I will manage," John informed her. "Besides, I'm in my thirties, Alison. I've managed all of this time without you."
Alison listened to his words for a moment before wondering what he had meant by them. His curt tone and resentment didn't help her to feel any more at ease.
"In that case, I will be going," she said suddenly, turning on her heel and moving out of the door and down the steps, slamming the door as she went.
...
Alison turned the ignition off as soon as she reached Mycroft's garage and she remained seated on the plush seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she thought about the brief conversation which she had just had with John. She didn't dwell upon it for long, considering she was drained and needed to get her homework finished. She snorted once at how normal that sounded. Normal was not a word which the Holmes family associated with.
Once she was out of the car, she moved through the garage and into the kitchen, her books still in her hand as she made her way through the quiet settings of Mycroft's house. She should tell him that she was home, but she wouldn't be shocked if he had been following her all night.
She deposited her books and paper on the table at the bottom of the staircase, dropping her car keys into her blazer pocket and then moving off to his study.
"Well you always were unexpected," she heard her uncle speak slowly before she knocked on the door. A slight crack of light shone from the gap between the door and its frame as Alison's hand froze in midair, wondering if she should bother him. When no one replied she found herself stuck to the spot, wondering why her uncle was slightly riled.
"No," Mycroft snapped down the phone once again. "If she must persist in seeing him then I won't stop her. She is an adult. She is old enough to make her own decisions even if I have to be legally responsible for her."
Alison strained her ears, desperate to hear more as her brows furrowed and she turned her ear towards the wood.
"Well she has started back at college today...something which I managed to get her to do, unlike you. Oh, and I bought her a car. Nippy little thing..."
He was talking about her. She was one hundred per cent sure of it. But who on earth was he talking to? It didn't make sense. None of it made any sense whatsoever.
"Do you intend on showing your face anytime soon? Because, even by your standards, this is selfish."
She didn't know how to react. Surely he couldn't be talking to...it wasn't possible...she had seen him jump...she had seen him fall off a building.
But she wasn't able to stand there any longer, not knowing anything.
...
There was a scurry of activity from Mycroft's side of the line as the man in the red telephone box remained resting against the glass pane of it, his eyebrow arched in intrigue as he heard Mycroft tell Alison she had gotten the wrong end of the stick. He smirked for a second as he heard her tell her uncle where he could shove his stick and then she took hold of the phone for herself, her breathing heavy and her voice full of desperation.
"Hello?" she asked down the phone and the man in the telephone booth felt his blood vanish from his veins, his breathing shallow as he closed his eyes, listening to her voice and not being able to say anything back to her. "Dad...dad...is that you?"
No. He couldn't say anything back to her. She couldn't know. She couldn't know yet. He had business to take care of.
"Dad!" she snapped and he knew she was beginning to cry and so he hung up, unable to take her tears when he wasn't there.
He left the booth after a moment and turned his coat collar up, his hands slipping into his pockets as he made his way through London town like an invisible ghost.
...
A/N: Anyway, thank you to anyone who is reading this and to anyone who has reviewed! Please, please, please, do let me know what you think? Was it worth carrying on with or not?