Chapter 23: In Which The Day Is Monday

"You up yet, darling?"

I shoved off the covers, glad I'd taken the time when I had been awoken with a jolt by my chaotic dreams to get dressed in proper clothes. Leilani had given me back my sling – something about needing to become readjusted to wearing it. Today I was either going to leave the witch and put John and Sherlock in even more danger or I was going to remain with her and have them remain as safe as they would be at any time – which wasn't very safe, considering that one of them was a forgotten Being and the other was an army doctor. I'd made my decision on my course of action the day after I met up with Moriarty. Now I just needed to put it into effect.

Leilani yammered on about social events and petty gossip the entire car ride. I, for the most, ignored her, nodding and pulling faces at irregular intervals to make it seem like I cared. They'd decided – or, more likely, Mycroft pulled some strings to convince them that – holding the study in the police station, or wherever Scotland Yard was, was the best course of action.

Leilani and I – oh how I detested that phrase – were led down the hall upon our entry to a small room with chairs along the walls with a door that led to yet another room. We were told to be seated and I counted the cracks on the wall to amuse myself.

"John, I don't see why- Kayla!" I heard a baritone voice say and my head turned faster than I thought was humanly possible.

Rubbing my neck where I cricked it, I gave a small smile to John, who was examining me with a medical eye. After noticing my posture – my injured shoulder slightly slumped, so as to remove pressure from it, and my forearm leaning heavily on the sling – he gritted his teeth, his jaw stiffening. Sherlock, in turn, was examining Leilani, who was happily chatting on her phone with her boyfriend, filing her nails as she did so. The wavy-haired man rolled his eyes, walking over to sit opposite me and leaning his elbows on his knees. John walked over to sit beside him, easing into the chair. It was obvious he'd not been sleeping well.

"How are you, Kayla?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to, undoubtedly, explain my entire and current situation but John silenced him with a glare. "I'm okay," I said somewhat truthfully. "No, really," I told the two, as John looked on in doubt and Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "I'm fine."

They knew that I wasn't telling them anything, really, but they chose to not pick up on it. A man in the division walked into the room – married, relationship problems, two children both at school – and gave a nod at seeing all the people.

"We all here?" he asked somewhat unnecessarily, before practically double-taking at Leilani. "Excuse me, ma'am, but you cannot converse with any outside people while in this room."

"Okay, darling, will do," she said, hanging up the call without a goodbye and putting her phone away.

"Good, good. Now, we'll talk to Kayla about the both of you before calling each of you in to provide your... opinion, shall we say. Social services have been studying you for the past few days – despite some camera issues (I saw Sherlock grin smugly) – and we've almost come to a decision based off that, though we still need to go over this procedure," he said, "Now Kayla, if you don't mind?"

I stood up, glancing at each of the adults before making my way into the room and sitting on the decidedly more comfortable-looking chair at the table. The man sat opposite me. He told me his name but I almost immediately dismissed it as unimportant. Black-dyed hair, grey eyes, pale skin. Londoner.

"What do you think of Leilani?" he asked me.

"She's shallow. I don't think she likes me. I have to make my own food and sometimes I forget. I hate pink but she makes me wear pink clothes," I said simply and honestly. The man looked at me sympathetically and I refrained from rolling my eyes.

"Is there anything else?" he asked me. I nodded.

"She made me take off this," I pointed at my sling, "I don't think I was meant to but she said I wasn't allowed to wear it when I was with her."

The man nodded and made a few notes. "And what about Sherlock and John? What do you think of them?"

I'd made my decision. I had. There was no going back now. "John's really nice. He gets my favourite food every night and makes sure I take my painkillers. He does my hair for me because I can't reach it with my arm and makes sure my shoulder's healing correctly."

It would put them in more danger but at least if I was there, I could watch them. See them. And if my brother ever remembered, I could- I could help. If anything ever undid the damage that had occurred when he'd Fallen into a dying addict then I would be there to help.

The man smiled, pausing to write somewhat frantically. "And Sherlock?" he asked, still writing.

"Sherlock's funny. He plays the violin really well, too. I used to play the violin and he says he'll teach me more if I want. He's like a brother, I guess. I always wanted a brother." I've always had a brother.

"Anything else?" the man asked, scrawling in notes. Wow, did he really need to take that many?

"No, not really."

"Okay then, Kayla, you're good to go."

Medical examinations were, as of immediately afterwards, my least favourite thing ever. Would it kill them to warm their hands? Or wear gloves in their down-time? I'd lost weight during my period of not-being-reminded-to-eat, apparently, but my shoulder was healing well, though I'd put a bit of strain on the muscle. I shouldn't worry because it was likely that would have occurred anyway, what with my energetic lifestyle. I was almost certain that it wouldn't have happened if I had stayed with John.

I sat down in John's chair, letting my wings fall through the upholstery messily. Looking around at Billy the Skull, the sweater John had casually thrown over the chair and the laptop that sat open, I smiled. A proper smile. It was good to be home.

Edit: 25.2.16