Chapter 8: Everything Is Totally Normal

I sat on the examination table, my legs swinging back and forth. I was bored. John had gone to look over some paperwork with Molly, and Sherlock was irritating some doctors with his deductions about their love-life. The one that had being doing the majority of the tests was married with two kids and had a rag-doll kitten that his wife had bought, but the nurse that was hovering by his shoulder was engaged, but having an affair with the secretary.

As soon as he'd noticed these things, Sherlock had smirked, and proceeded to tell them so. The nurse had blushed, but remained silent, and the doctor had cast a wary look over at the raven-haired detective before going back to his tests.

Sherlock had then proceeded to smile smugly while I subjected myself to being prodded and poked by cold fingers and metals alike for an hour or so, the majority of which was almost over. Which was a good thing, I'm certain of it.

After being examined by 5 different doctors, all with very cold hands, I was declared to be at 'the epitome of a healthy ten-year-old, though she could do with eating more'. Which I found rather amusing, seeing as Kayla had always been teetering on the edge of underweight, and had been far shorter then the average height.

The doctors hadn't seemed to notice that the girl they had been examining for most of her life had grown six centimetres and gained two kilograms in under a month. I was pretty sure that that wasn't normal, though I wasn't going to point it out. I was already tired of the pristine white room that smelled of disinfection five minutes in and couldn't fathom why anyone would inform the white-coats of something that would make them required to stay longer.

This was why, as soon as John entered the room, I jumped off the table and ran over to him to tug on his hand and ask, "May we please leave now?" in a pleading tone.

John gave me a smile. As did Molly, who had entered just after him. I turned to face Sherlock, who was still sitting on the chair, his eyes rapidly moving across the files with my medical records that the doctor had 'accidentally' left on the table. He appeared to be muttering quietly to himself; most likely reading the contents of the document aloud to see what conclusions he could draw.

"What does it say?" I asked him, but I was ignored.

Sherlock addressed John. "What is Developmental dysplasia of the hip?" he asked, and John frowned.

"Clicky hips. Most likely dislocation at birth," he clarified.

Sherlock gave a short nod of recognition then went back to his reading. I sighed. He could have just asked me- Kayla had read about it after her mother had told her, and after existing for as many years as I had, one did pick up a few things. My mother had taught me about medical conditions in humans, my father had taught me the sciences, and my brother had taught me, well, everything.

Everything, and anything, from reading posture and noticing the small details to music and playing the violin. But I'd never gotten as good as he at playing- he knew all of Mozart's pieces by heart and learnt how to play Beethoven by ear. At one point, he had created a concoction of pieces, all mixed together, that made the most beautiful of sounds. And that had become his Mark. His one sign of himself, that set him apart from all the rest. I hadn't found mine, though I wasn't too bad at the flute.

It was at this point I realised I had been staring off into the distance and that John had been trying to get my attention for somewhere close to five minutes. I blinked and shook my head, trying to escape from my reverie. I looked past John's somewhat worried face to find Sherlock looking at me with an indecipherable look on his face. His eyes seemed to be asking an unspoken question that I was sure that everyone who knew, even John and Molly, had thought at one point: Why aren't you dead?

And I'm not sure I entirely knew myself. Of all the people in the world, all the children that had died at that point in time, why Kayla Robinson? It was a question that no living being knew the answer to. And, to tell you the truth, I didn't think anyone ever would.

Edit: 25.2.16