She needn't have worried about getting into trouble for being late back to her office. She had arrived back, with seconds to spare before Mr Roid had made another visit to her. He hadn't failed to notice her heaving chest though, but he didn't say anything directly about it. He was to busy staring at it whilst attempting to form the question 'did she have a nice rest at lunch' into an acceptable sentence.
He had failed and asked her if she had had a nice breast for lunch. By the time he had left her office again, she was more than ready for the day to be over. But the day being over meant having to go home, and going home meant being in the presence of her Mother. Emily had always had a routine when she arrived home: Check Mother, get food, go to bedroom, do something to prevent boredom, go to bed, wake up, go to work. It was a never ending cycle of boredom, that she had a terrifying feeling of impending doom would go on forever; that she would never leave home, never find a better job, and never have any fun.
But instead of letting her mind linger on what might be awaiting her in the future, she let her thoughts stray to the tall man, Sherlock Holmes, she had met, and the question that had been circling round her brain since he had left. How the hell had he known about her Mother? She had briefly wondered how he had known that she was a Filing Clerk too, but she put it down to the fact that he might have walked past her office a number of times, even if she had never seen him before. It wasn't as if she could watch everybody as they hurried to their destination. And unless they had come to her office for a specific reason, everyone hurried past her office.
She was half tempted to look the man up on the internet. But she didn't have the time, her shift had just finished, and she wanted out of this building. Making sure everything was neat and tidy for tomorrow, the computer turned off, the files safely locked, she grabbed her coat and set off, taking her phone from her pocket to check if her Mother had called again. She had of course and left a number of voice mails. But she would listen to them later, she was more interested in the text that was waiting for her.
Hi Emily. Just wanted to know if you wanted to meet up before we head to Baker Street tomorrow? If you're going obviously. -John.
It was obvious that John was going, so it was with a smile that she replied.
I would love to. I finish work at five. Where should I meet you? - Emily.
She started her walk home, feeling slightly happier than she normally did at this time of day. Perhaps it was because she was getting the feeling back in her toes, perhaps it was because she had had something to eat at lunchtime. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that she had apparently made a new friend, something she hadn't managed to do in a long time.
How about I meet you there? By the entrance? If that doesn't sound creepy? - John.
Not at all. I look forward to it. - Emily.
Yes. It was definitely because she had made a new friend.
"Mother." She shouted into the hallway, shutting the front door gently behind her. She slipped her heels off and hung her coat up before heading to the kitchen to plate up the fresh Fish and Chips she had just bought.
She walked around the downstairs half of the house, letting her food cool down for a moment or two as she searched for her Mother. She found her in the front room. Passed out on the settee with an empty bottle of wine lying innocently on the floor next to her and a line of drool falling down her chin.
Emily rolled her eyes as she shut the door firmly behind her, taking her phone from the pocket of her coat as she passed it before she grabbed the necessary cutlery she needed from the drawer and headed upstairs to her room.
The safety of her room, was only a few paces away, but she had to travel past the shut door in order to reach it first.
The door had been firmly shut in such a way ever since the incident all those years ago. The incident that occurred the same day she got the necklace that still encircled her neck.
When the Ambulance had arrived, her Gran had been pronounced dead at the scene. It had then only taken a couple of minutes for the Police to arrive. She had been wrapped in a blanket that she had been told was for shock. But she hadn't needed it. She hadn't been in shock. She had been in denial. She had truly believed her favourite woman in the world was still alive. Still breathing, still talking and still laughing in that strange way that always had Emily in stitches no matter her mood.
She didn't want to think that the older woman was now completely covered by a sheet, about to be driven away to somewhere she would never be seen again. The only evidence she had been there at all that day was now the nasty stain on the carpet and the necklace safely secured around Emily's neck.
She didn't enter the house until long after the Police had gone, sitting on the low wall that was only a few feet away from her front door.
That was the night she had moved her suitcases, still packed and ready for their departure to a holiday that would never happen, into the spare room. It was also the night she had started to become more distant from her brother, and therefore Jim.
Now, as Emily strode across the landing, not even letting her gaze flicker to the closed door, she shook her head away from these thoughts. She made herself comfortable on the bed and dug into her food. It was just what she needed.
It was with more than a little reluctance that she begun to listen to the messages her Mother had left her from earlier. She had three in total. Two of them were mainly a flurry of sentences that had been slurred together to form a line of dialogue that was indistinguishable. But the third and final message was clearer. Even so, she had listen to it twice before she could really understand it.
"Emiiilly, I have seen him! I've seen Seb! I pasedhiminthestreet! I told youdidn'tI? Itoldyou he would be back!" And there, the message abruptly ended. She stared down at the screen of her phone in confusion as she hung up.
Her Mother had obviously been drunk when she had called. But she had sounded rather serious. She even spoke with an edge of excitement in her tone. But there had been many times, too many times to count in fact, where the woman currently passed out on the settee downstairs, had professed to have spotted her eldest and favourite child, walking down the street, parking a car, walking a dog, or Emily's personal favourite, leaving a changing room whilst zipping his trousers back up, to be swiftly followed by a female member of staff who had looked rather flushed and flustered. She always laughed at the memory of her Mother's face when she had been recounting that particular sighting.
But she was never able to trust her Mother when it came to things such as this. Because as a child, Emily had been lied to and therefore let down too many times to believe any of the words that passed her Mother's lips. She certainly wasn't going to start now.
Her gaze turned to the two framed photographs that were sat on top of her chest of drawers; one was of her sat on top of her brother's lap. She had paint on her face, in her hair and down her shirt, her brother had a blue hand print on his face. She had paused in the painting of a picture to flash a gappy smile to the camera, or rather the person holding the camera as she wasn't even looking at the lens as her brother laughed from behind her. The table she had been using to lean on was covered with paints and fresh paper, ready for her if she needed them.
The second was of her and Jim. He had been holding her hand as they had walked away form the camera. But they had turned their heads to look over their shoulders as if someone had just shouted their names. Emily's free hand had been raised in the air, it was likely she had been in the middle of telling some fantastical story to her companion as the photo was taken. She leant forwards to pick the photo up in order to study the features of Jim more carefully. His hair was dark, always had been, as were his eyes. Emily had always been a little afraid to look into those eyes for too long for fear of getting hurt by them. There was just something about them that had held a hint of darkness that had nothing to do with their shade. She had noticed that it was always when he was angry, that hint would turn into a spark, that would eventually take over everything about him. She always left the room if she ever felt he was getting angry. And the smile that had been frozen on the paper before her, was genuine, as if he truly enjoyed her company.
The way he dressed had always been different from the other boys his age too. Whereas the other boys were dressed in clothes that were likely to be muddy by the end of the day, Jim had worn smarter looking clothes, priding himself in his appearance, always flicking away any hints of dust.
She placed the photo back as she finished her food. She often wondered what Jim would be like these days. When her brother had left, she had only seen Jim once after that, and that time had been from a distance. He had been on the phone talking to someone, and Emily had been about to approach him when his voice had raised, causing a few nervous glances from passers by to turn his way. Emily had just turned straight back round and headed in the opposite direction, hoping she hadn't been spotted.
In the following years, she had often regretted her decision to walk away. Perhaps they still would have been friends to this day if she hadn't. But you couldn't turn back time. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to be.
She slipped into her pyjamas, her empty plate on the floor next to her bed, and slid under the covers. She had wanted to read, but her eyes had other plans. It wasn't long before Emily Cooper was asleep.
I have never been drunk before, and it's been a while since I was around people who do, so you'll have to forgive me if my attempt at the drunken voice message was terrible.
I don't own, only Emily.
Apologies for spelling/ punctuation mistakes I've probably made and failed to notice.
Please let me know what you think?
BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK
FB