Chapter 19: I'm Not Going Insane, That Cup Vanished!

Sherlock and John arrived back at 6:07 pm, one hour three seconds after Mycroft left and five hours twenty-eight minutes after I had arrived back at 221B, which was forty-three minutes before they had left.

On their way back, they'd picked up some Chinese food, which appeared to be the staple meal of the flat. They rarely drank water, instead opting for tea or coffee, and rarely cooked their own meals. I wouldn't be able to change any of this – I couldn't cook. Kayla had gained an irrational dislike of stoves after she'd burnt herself while cooking for one of her mother's friends and had then refused to touch a cookbook. I just didn't know.

I once again played the I-refuse-to-eat-unless-Sherlock-matches-me-bite-for-bite card, which was once again successful. John once again looked at me with a shocked expression and Sherlock once again noticed down my precise intake of food and matched me exactly.

We finished eating twelve minutes after we started and it took eleven minutes for the tea to boil. After seven minutes of staring at the wallpaper I flopped to the ground on a clear bit of floor and lay there, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, trying to determine their origin. John finished his tea at 6:43 pm, at which point I exploded from the sheer dullness of it all.

"This is so boring!" I shouted, using my good arm to throw a cup at the ceiling. It collided with a 'donk' and fell to the ground.

It could have been fine. It could have been perfectly normal – the cup could have hit the ceiling and fallen to the ground to make another loud noise. But no. I just couldn't catch a break.

The cup fell with perfect trajectory toward my right wing and, as all objects with moving force do, Shifted through. Oops.

I jumped up into a bobbing position, looking around the flat to see if anyone had been witness to the vanishing cup. Sherlock hadn't, thank god – he remained ignorant to is heritage, I wouldn't have to explain it to him yet. But John-

I turned to face the kitchen to see John staring at me with an odd look on his face. His aura had moved around to his head, a sign that he was trying to figure something out. I buried my head in my hand, groaning at my carelessness. Standing up, I resigned myself to my fate and walked out the door towards John's room, the army doctor following.

John's POV:

The cup had vanished. There had been a cup, then bam! No cup. And I knew that I wasn't going mad, or seeing things. The cup had definitely disappeared. And my god, it was Kayla. I don't know what she did, but she had made the cup vanish. She'd thrown it at the ceiling, it had fallen but hadn't hit the ground. It had just disappeared.

I'm no Sherlock, but I knew that this was connected to the way she moved. Around him, I mean. She had a particular sort of stride. And I'd seen her reactions at the crime scene- she'd ducked, as if avoiding something. Then, she'd been able to see something apparently nobody else could. And I was certain I'd seen six bullets heading for us, but only four were found. There was something going on and I was determined to find out what.

I took a deep breath, looking down at the girl on the floor. She didn't look out of the ordinary, but I knew better than most that looks could be deceiving.

"What was that?" I asked her kindly, and she seemed to resign herself to answering.

"I- " Kayla hesitated, obviously trying to determine whether telling the truth would be beneficial. I allowed her the pause to gather thoughts, but silently prompted her all the same.

She continued, "Stuff like that happens around me. I can make things vanish if I want them to, sometimes." She blinked, hard, as I scanned her for any signs that she was lying. She wasn't. It wasn't all the truth, but it wasn't a lie. It wasn't really that important, anyway. I just wanted to know that I wasn't going insane.

"I won't tell anyone, if you don't want me to," I said, and she sighed in what appeared to be relief.

"That would be... preferable," she replied, crinkling her nose. I nodded and flashed a smile, which she returned uneasily. I left the room, leaving her behind.

Kayla's POV:

Once John left, I stood and banged my head against the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. God, what was I thinking?! I stretched my wings out from their position during my nervousness, trying to avoid putting them through the walls. That could have ended very very badly – I was lucky it hadn't. If Sherlock had found out- I dragged my thoughts away from that. I couldn't afford emotions at the moments – I might cause something else to happen in my stupidity and explaining to my brother that he had forgotten everything-

I gave a high-pitched laugh, clutching at my chest. Nope. I was not going to think about that. Ignoring the urge to bang my head again, I turned and exited the room to the one across the hall that had been set aside for me. I flopped down on the bed, letting my wings fall through the mattress.

Trying to escape the madness, I went into my mind palace and began simply wandering. Beginning in my main room with the stars and photos, I slid down the ladder into the secondary room and briefly flicked through my musical knowledge, which was pressed against the right wall. The left had a corner-desk with art and a door, leading to my brother's room, as well as John's and Mycroft's. I ignored it.

I began wandering through the library that came off the main room, occasionally glimpsing past the translucent curtains into the knowledge I had learnt Above. Etiquette with language opposite, history with lore opposite, human sciences and medicine with deductions and social skills opposite. Then there was assorted knowledge without a place that meant something and the fiction that my parents had so frowned upon. There was a fireplace with a box on the mantelpiece that held Kayla's memories, a glass circle in the locked lid so I could glimpse inside when need be. I didn't want to.

I spun around, my wings coming in tight, before appearing in the hall with my brother's and Mycroft's and John's room. I bit my lip. It had to be done.

I opened the singular door, merged from the two, and entered my brother's room. It was practically chaos. Memories floated around unconstrained as theories and words collided. Practically drowning in the pandemonium, I found myself creating images for the memories and pinning them to opposite walls, gathering the theories on his Falling and flinging them to the roof where they hung like galaxies. When I was able to breathe, I found myself in a separated room. My brother on one side, Sherlock on the other. I once again found myself denying the urge to bash my head against the wall. I wasn't dealing with this very well, was I?

Leaving the room and bolting the door again, I meandered into Mycroft's room. It was rather... bare. Just images pinned to a wall and deductions written neatly on a piece of paper. Protective, professional, highly influential, cares for younger brother above anything else, animosity between the two but mainly from one side, dislike of parents, umbrella was a present from... Sherlock? No wonder he kept it around. High grades in school, finds everyone else moronic but hides it much better than Sherlock ever did. Glad for the distraction, I created an image of Mycroft from my last memory of him, and began trying to learn more about him. Better than counting time.

Hadn't been sleeping but as far as I was aware there were no major issues with the government lately – maybe he was keeping it hush hush? And he was thin, way too thin for someone of his height and bone structure, probably on a diet, seemingly for no reason. So... Sherlock? Was it due to his remarks? Most likely, her younger brother had made her extremely self-conscious...

When I emerged from my mind palace an hour later, I felt I knew a lot more about Mycroft than I had before. I also felt extremely tired. Cursing the fact that I was practically a baby, I went to sleep, unaware of what would occur the next day.

Edit: 25.2.16