Izzy stood at the side of John's car, toxic nerves fluttering through her head like butterflies. The car was a battered, almost run down thing, painted a non-descript black. It was by no means unclean but there was a little dust hanging on the sides and the windows could have used a good scrub. In a way, it was similar to their house and the pair themselves. Messy but real.

Overall, Izzy preferred people like this. She trusted them easier because she knew that they were being honest with themselves and not trying to hide their flaws. Still, she was wary. It usually took a few weeks for someone's true colors to show, so she wasn't holding her breath.

"Sorry about the state of it," said John with a laugh. "I've been meaning to take it to the car wash but I've been so busy at work that I didn't have time."

"I don't mind."

"That's good," he said. "Hop in then. We've got to get going or you'll be late to school."

Izzy froze, hand on the door handle. She could sit in the front passenger seat, but then she would be next to the driver's seat, where she would be within grabbing distance. Then all sorts could happen. Izzy hadn't really considered the possibility of danger because she'd hoped that there would be more distance between them that there was.

Would it be rude to ask to sit in the back? Mostly likely. Was it worth the risk? Probably not. Should she just suck it up and deal with it? Those same butterflies swarmed in number, crowding her vision and clogging her throat. She couldn't speak now, even if she wanted to

John seemed to notice the apprehension on her face and backtracked a little. "You don't have to sit next to me if you don't want to. I can understand if that makes you a bit uncomfortable. Do you want to sit in the back instead?"

Izzy quickly mumbled an agreement and climbed into the back of the car. John got into the driver's seat and buckled his seat belt. "Mind if I put on the radio?" he asked.

She gave a small shrug, still struggling to make words appear.

He messed with the dials a moment, and Izzy listened intently to each station changing. It started at rock, switched to some country, and finally settled on something classical.

"Sherlock would like this piece," he remarked. "He's absolutely obsessed with classical music – even plays the violin."

"How did you two meet?" murmured Izzy, suddenly curious. A wide smile spread itself across John's face.

"It's an interesting story actually," he started. "So, I was a disabled veteran fresh out of Afghanistan, and my panic attacks and nightmares were making it hard to keep a place because I kept getting kicked out. One day, I was wandering about the university I studied at when I was young – just for the memories you know - and this guy runs up to me. "John Watson!" he goes "John Watson!" I didn't recognize him at first but it was this guy I went to school with."

"Was it Sherlock?"

John chuckled. "Not quite. It was Mike Stamford. You'll probably meet him at some point – we're always inviting him over. He's a great guy, and he has a daughter about your age. Hopefully, you two will be friends." Izzy was unsure whether she was excited about or dreading that potential meeting. What if she upset the girl and they got mad? What if this was a nice way of saying they didn't approve of the kind of people she was friends with? What if she wasn't allowed to see them anymore? But they hadn't met any of her friends yet.

Izzy was never that good with new people, preferring to keep a small, close-knit social circle, but the few friends she did have were very precious to her. She stayed quiet – unsure – and stared at her hands, which were folded in her lap. John turned back to glance at her, and regretted his choice of words immediately when he saw how worried she was.

"You don't have to be friends with her if you don't want to. It's up to you. I know you probably have your own friends at school," he said.

There was silence for a moment. Izzy whispered a thank you. "Can you please finish the story?" she added, looking out the window of the car. The route they were taking wasn't one she was familiar with, which was unsettling. Was he driving her to the right place? Did he even know which school she went to? She wanted to check, but John had started speaking again and she didn't want to interrupt.

"Yes. Where was I? So, he asked how I was doing and I explained the apartment struggle I was having. I admitted that I wasn't the best person to room with. Then Mike just started laughing. And he went "You know, you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Ten minutes later he dragged me to the medical exam rooms and there's this guy. I shook his hand and he asked me "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You see, Sherlock has this thing where he can figure out all sorts of things about you from just one look. I was impressed, and told him as much."

Izzy was a little shook. Could Sherlock have used this ability on her? What did he know? It was scary and she didn't like it one bit. John was too deep in his story to notice her worry this time and kept speaking.

"We ended up moving in together the day after and he dragged me on this crazy case. I fell, and I fell hard, but I was still massively in denial about that part of myself. I buried my feelings and got engaged to this woman, Mary. I loved her, I really did, but she… she died soon after our wedding, and..."

He trailed off and Izzy stared at him for a moment, unsure what to call the expression writ across him face. "Things were bad for a while. I don't want to get too much into it, very personal stuff, you know. A few months later, Sherlock and I finally figured out our feelings, and everything sort of fell into place after that."

"But, how did you know you loved him?" Izzy asked.

John paused for a moment, thinking through what he was about to say. "I think it was when I realized that things other people found irritating, just made me smile. And when I was the only person who saw him as brilliant, when others saw him as a pompous asshole. Shit! I probably shouldn't swear in front of a kid. God, I just did it again."

Izzy frowned. "I'm not a kid," she muttered. "I'm nearly eighteen…"

"How near is nearly?" he asked.

"… Six months. April 25th."

"Still a kid to me," he laughed. Izzy couldn't stop her frown from deepening into a scowl. Was this going to be like Mr Dodson all over again?

"So you're a Taurus," John added nonchalantly, as he turned another corner she didn't recognize.

Izzy couldn't hide her surprise. "Do you know about astrology?" she said, excitement clear in her tone. She had never met anyone who was interested in astrology before, though she wasn't really into it anymore. One of her previous foster fathers, Mr Johnson, had forbidden all that stuff in his house, calling it 'obscene witchcraft'. Wait… Was he placement number nine? Or ten? She couldn't quite remember.

She counted through each placement in her head. The Abbots and the Bartons and… Yes, she was sure that Mr Johnson was number ten. It felt like so long ago that she had been there, which it was really. That placement was about two years ago - there had been six more since then – and like many of the others, it had ended badly. Just thinking through the whole list was exhausting.

John shrugged. "I helped Sherlock investigate a case a while ago. This guy was killing people and basing their deaths on their zodiac signs. It was complicated and I don't remember everything about the case, but I did end up learning a lot about astrology. Why, do you like it?"

Izzy was about to launch into a ramble about how much she adored astrology, but caught herself at the last second. Mr Watson probably didn't want to hear that. "It's… interesting stuff," she said at last. "But I don't like it that much. Not really." John gave her a worried glance before abruptly changing the subject.

"Did you eat breakfast?" he asked.

"I was little too busy having a panic attack for something as unimportant as breakfast," she thought.

"Didn't have time," she said.

"That's no good Izzy. You need to eat breakfast, or you'll be hungry at school. Can't learn like that," he said, rooting through his glove box. After a moment, he pulled out a slightly battered cereal bar. He handed it over with an exaggerated flourish and a grin. "Here you go."

"You keep cereal bars in your car?" murmured Izzy, turning the bar over in her hands. Did these people eat nothing but cereal based products or something?

"Believe it or not, I keep them in here for Sherlock. When he gets all wrapped up in a case, it can be difficult to get him to eat because he gets picky or just plain forgets. We find that cereal bars are the perfect food when he's like that. Easy to eat, high calorie density, doesn't leave crumbs, etcetera. So, I always keep them knocking around just in case."

"Won't he get mad if I eat his food?"

"He won't mind at all. Trust me." Izzy wasn't sure if he could do that.

They pulled up outside her school and Izzy found herself comforted by the familiar sight. At least she didn't have to go to a new school. Most of the time, going to a new school was an extra little bit of trash on the dumpster fire of a new placement. At least she had this going for her this time.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and picked up her backpack. Like everything she owned, it was scruffy and old but at least it was hers. There was a boy at her sixth placement named Mateo who had gotten ten pounds from his mum. He had bought a new backpack with the money and in a moment of kindness gifted his old one to Izzy because her only backpack was falling apart at the seams.

Izzy had liked him the most out of all the people at that group home. He had gone to live with his mother a few weeks after that and they lost touch. She hoped he was doing alright.

She and John both got out and made their way to the gates. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed John reach out his hand for just a moment before pulling it back. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked.

Izzy shrugged. "I'll be fine."

John raised an eyebrow but continued walking. It was pretty early actually, and there weren't many people in the hallways. At least there was no-one here to kick up a fuss about her new foster father driving her to school like she was a little kid.

"Could you point me to the principal's office?" asked John.

"Umm… It's just down that hallway." She gestured vaguely in the right direction. "Third door on the left."

"Thanks. I've got to get going. I can pick you up outside the school gates at four, if you want?" There was a hint of something in his voice that let Izzy know it really was up to her. She agreed, and John walked off, seemingly pleased with the conversation.

It was too early for her to go to her form room, so she went to the library instead. Nora was sitting at their usual table and reading a book, just as Izzy had expected. She had her hair in thin, tight braids today and looked beautiful, as she always did. Last week Nora wore her hair in a fluffy, loose afro and the mere sight had made her heart stop.

Izzy walked over to the table and settled down next to Nora. A deep sigh escaped from her lips before she could stop it.

"Difficult day?" asked Nora, setting down her book. Izzy nodded and rested her head on Nora's shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?"

"If you don't mind…" A kind smile spread across Nora's face. Izzy couldn't hide the blush that creeped across her cheeks. Her best friend had no business being this cute.

Izzy had known she was attracted to girls since she was about ten, but she didn't have a word for it until she was twelve. Most of her previous foster families hadn't been pleased about it, so she got used to hiding it. Maybe she wouldn't have to hide it anymore. She was living with two queer men now – they probably wouldn't have a problem with it.

"You know I'll always listen when you need to get something off your chest. Besides, you weren't here Friday, so I was worried. Was it him again?" The question came out as a hushed whisper.

They never called Mr Carkwright by his name, it just made Izzy panic. So he was always just him when they talked.

"No actually. I'm not with him anymore. He… umm… took it bit far this time and the neighbours called the cops." She let Nora fill in the gaps.

"Was it bad?"

Izzy swallowed thicky. "Yeah. It was bad."

"What happened?"