Chapter 5: The Name's Sherlock Holmes
"Rude," I muttered. The man heard me.
"What was that?" he asked, turning to face me. He didn't seem angry, just slightly amused. The tips of his wings had relaxed, and now he was more bored than irritated. Oh, how I hated being confined to a ten-year-old's from. All the things I wanted to say but couldn't without seeming like a child prodigy.
"Rude," I repeated, louder. He gave a small smile. "You're boring. I've never met anyone as boring as you. John's much more interesting," I commented in provocation.
When he failed to rise to the bait, I tilted my head. "Why is a ex-army doctor with a psychosomatic limp when he should be favouring his shoulder living in an apartment with a skull?" I asked rhetorically, and his smile grew. This was much more fun than acting like a child.
"Oh, I like you," he said, and I gave an exaggerated bow, my arms out at the sides like a bird. John gave a groan as Molly looked between the two of us, confused.
"Oh, not another one. How did you figure that out, then?" John asked me in a resigned tone. He seemed to get the whole older-than-I-look thing, and didn't baby me as much as Molly. Or that could just be his character.
"You forgot about it," I told him. He frowned, his brow creasing.
"Forgot about what?" he asked.
"The limp," I clarified, refraining from rolling my eyes. "You forgot about the limp when you waited in line, you kept on rolling your shoulder while you drank your coffee and the cane's on the wrong side, we've already established Afghanistan and your cane has the words 'Dr John Watson' etched on it."
The man seemed rather excited about something- he was almost literally jumping out of his seat, and his wings were pulled in tight with the tips held out. I would take a guess that it would be me, but I didn't particularly care. John gave me an easy-going smile, but Molly was biting her lip and looking at her watch.
"Have you got something planned?" I asked her, before realising. "Oh, yes, I'm not officially alive yet."
"Not officially alive?!" John said in indignation, and Molly flinched. I wondered if her parents were still together- had their arguments ever come to blows?
The man, however, just seemed to be even more excited. "What do you mean, you're not officially alive?" he asked me, his blue-grey eyes alight in curiosity.
I shrugged. It could be worse. I could be paralysed, have amnesia, gone into a child, like the angel in the man had; I was actually rather lucky that my only major problems were having no guardian and not officially being alive. I was using that phrase a lot, wasn't I?
"I hit my head," I supplied, furrowing my brows. I closed my eyes, trying to recall what had occurred to the ten-year-old. Kayla didn't know much of what happened, and I was using her memories. She'd hit her head, it had gone black, then I woke up. My eyes flew open. "I died, I guess. Then I woke up in a body bag."
John seemed appalled, but the man was watching me in, almost, fascination. Molly and John started talking, probably about what they should do with me, again, and the man put his hands back into the prayer position. He started gazing somewhere to the left of me. I sighed aloud. I couldn't just call him 'the man' anymore. It was getting ridiculous.
"You- perchy one," I addressed, pointing to him and snapping my fingers. "What is your name?"
He shook his head, slightly irritated at being disrupted from his thoughts, and, once again, directed his blue-grey gaze towards me. However, this time, I folded my arms and glared back, an eyebrow raised. He did a jump-like manoeuvre so that he was sitting in the chair and gave a smirk.
"Sherlock Holmes. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he greeted, his baritone voice ringing with amusement.
Edit: 25.2.16