You have all been so lovely to me, and I thank you. Whenever I am sad, I look at the sweet reviews you have left!
Who's excited about the royal princess? I am! Woot! :D Any of y'all obsessed with the Royal Fam?
The determined figure marched into an office and slammed her palm on the officer's desk. "It wasn't a drug deal."
Sgt. Donovan blinked and tried go around the angry girl.
Lissie stood her ground. "You're all covering something up. What really happened?"
"I suggest you ask your uncle. I had nothing to do with capturing Sherlock, police helicopters took care of that. We were just making sure he wasn't at home."
"You lied about the drugs."
Donovan pushed the girl aside. "Homicide is still homicide. Now, are you supposed to be in my office or did you run away?"
"Admit you lied."
"They fed us a story. We - I- really thought it was a bust. Lestrade knew the truth. Turns out Sherlock killed-" She stopped.
"Please, Sgt. Donovan."
"What about your guardians? I need to let them know you're here."
"Please stop trying to get rid of me. I need to know where Sherlock is."
Donovan rolled her eyes. "I eavesdropped on Lestrade. The freak's apparently going to be sent on a suicide mission to Eastern Europe. It took them nearly two months to decide what to do with him."
"Why?"
"Drug deal not bad enough for ya? Listen. He attempted to sell government secrets, then murdered a man. I wouldn't mourn his loss too much."
"But why would he sell government secrets?"
"To help out his funny little friends - the Army doctor and that Mary woman. This happened Boxing Day, and it's Valentine's now. I really don't know anything more."
Donovan then turned and walked away, pausing as she turned the corner. There was a strange kindness in her eyes.
"I'm going to give you a head start," she said very quietly. "I'll be in the bathroom for 10 minutes before I alert your caseworker, as I am bound by law to do."
Would she ever understand Donovan? Lissie breathed a relieved "Thank you."
"Go, now."
Lissie scurried down the hall. She needed to get as far away as possible. The heart shaped wreath interwoven with little bells jingled cheerily as she slammed the Yard door and hurried down the stone steps, pulling her coat around her.
Blimey, she felt horrid. The Houstons, her foster family, had been incredibly kind, and bought her dozens of lovely presents since she arrived the day before Christmas. For two months now, they had cared for her every need, and how did she repay them? By running away?
Should she try to find Sherlock before he was sent on that mission? What if he had already been sent?
A part of her wanted to remain furious at him. He had given absolutely no thought to her this entire time, selling secrets and killing a man.
Did she really know Sherlock? It seemed as if he cared for her. He had truly been distraught when she was hurt. And yet...
She pressed her arms closer to her chest, shifting the weight of her backpack. Where should she go? Police would be looking for her soon, 221 B and Raymond Manor probably being the first places they'd look.
She hurried to the nearest Tube - Paddington Station. With a little smile of remembrance - she'd loved the Paddington books as a child- she bought a ticket to Waterloo station, the busiest.
Once there, she turned on her cell phone, left it on the train, and vanished. She had been seen on the train; hopefully the broadcast signal of her phone would convince police she was still aboard.
With some misgivings, she left the underground and blended into the crowd. Uncle Mycroft could tell her more about Sherlock, but he would probably send her back to the foster home. John and Mary might know! Hadn't Donovan said he killed a man FOR them?
But their flat was empty. She gave in and tried Mycroft's club, but he was gone.
Suicide mission to Eastern Europe. The words echoed in her brain, ricocheting about wildly. Part of her wanted to cry for him; another said to let Sherlock go.
Never had she felt so abject and hopeless. She hailed a cab and headed for the Eurostar. It had been four hours since she'd left the Houston's; at best she had another six before her passport was cancelled by police.
She boarded the Chunnel train for France. After the long ride, she stepped into a washroom.
The bathroom was deserted. She removed her hat and blinked in some satisfaction. Early this morning, she had mixed bleach with her shampoo, and she now had blonde highlights that made her almost unrecognizable.
Using little pieces of scotch tape, she molded her ears until they didn't look like their former selves. Sherlock taught her that trick.
Heavy makeup and a pair of green contacts completed the illusion.
Her plan was to 'lay low' in France until she was declared missing and her passport use was discovered, then lock herself in the tiny train bathroom and sneak back into London when France got too hot. She'd read of a boy who'd managed the same trick two years ago. It would be easier to act as a tourist in France.
Well? What do you think? Running away definitely isn't the brightest idea our Lissie has had.