Hey everybody! Happy new year! Here's chapter 22! I'm using too many exclamationmarks! I don't really care! Enjoy!
The next morning is quiet; we don't have the usual breakfast but just toast, jam and honey, of course all so posh that you would never find them anywhere else but here. It doesn't taste any different, but I don't say anything about it.
Neither Mycroft nor I acknowledge the fact that I was in his room last night.
The whole day is tense, and the strange atmosphere doesn't lift. Neither of us three really knows what to do. Before, Mycroft had regular check-ups and appointments and visits from the doctors every day, and Sherlock and I had either been with Mycroft or slept, so there isn't anything to fill the time.
I try playing games on xBox, playstation and Wii, but it's not very interesting. I do so for two hours though, trying to tell my mind that I want to do this.
A vibration of my phone finally brings the distraction I want. It's Melissandre, asking whether I had time to meet up for lunch, and I text back instantly which place I'd like to go to. The atmosphere is stifling, and here is a great escape.
Braiding my hair, I walk down the stairs and look for Mycroft: Somehow it feels necessary to tell him where I am going.
The little café is cosy, nearly hidden between the bleak other shops and windows, a little oasis of warmth and light. Only the door is visible from the outside, but in the inside is a little room with maybe seven tables and a counter. They are out of brown wood, not exactly very light but not dark either, just like the floor and the chairs. The walls and the ceiling are orange and red, mixed, making everything feel warmer and more comfortable. I'm there first and go to a table in the corner, already ordering a hot chocolate with marshmallows and wait for Melissandre.
She arrives five minutes later, and we order a coffee for her, some sandwiches and a lemonade for me.
"Hey, Kiara – so how have you been?" She asks as soon as the waitress leaves our table.
"I've had a busy time – with my friend and everything – well, busier than usual." I smile slightly when I remember how it was before Anthea. It was strained, yes, but not at all easy or boring..
"Usual? School so bad?" Mel's voice is sympathetic and I am very glad that I never had to endure school, if it is so bad like she thinks it is.
"No, I don't go to school. I have some stuff to do, I need to find some people, I need to look after a friend who should be able to do it himself but doesn't and now I have to look after My as well." I try a smile, but I know it's not really working – it's not that I am really angry or unhappy with the fact that I have the feeling that I have to look after Sherlock and Mycroft, but they are annoying at times.
"Hmmm not good. Where did you go to school?"
"I didn't. I have been in a school on two occasions, one time I needed something for my father and the second time was when I was with you." I smile at her astonished face, knowing that it is illegal to not go to school.
"Father taught me what I need to know – let's say, I never needed anything else."
She still looks confused, so I try to change the subject, but she suddenly seems to remember something.
"Kiara, your last name is Moriarty, right?"
"Mel. Don't – don't go there please."
She looks at me strangely, and I know that she knows who I am. Well. That's probably it, then, nobody wants to be friends with a psychopath's daughter.
"Kiara – he was your dad, wasn't he? Jim Moriarty?"
I swallow once, and look down, suddenly the table is quite interesting.
"Right. Okay. That explains – a lot. Certainly." Melissandre's voice is hoarse, shocked, and I can almost already hear the scraping of the chair, maybe some words too, something like I never want to see you again or freak or you shouldn't be alive. They are all old, the voices, although old and muddled, resonate in my head. The memories are so old, they are from my very early child-hood. I had thought that what Father did was normal, that everybody did it. The response I got is one of the reasons why I never went to school, and never wanted to.
Mel doesn't do it. She doesn't do anything, and I am not sure whether her lips are thin because she is restraining herself or because she is scared. I don't blame her if she is scared. It's only natural – she knows what Father did, she has seen what I can do.
"I'm sorry," I croak out and grip my hoody, which I took with me for some reason, even though it is July.
I jump up and leave the café, holding my head high, but I don't look at Melissandre at all. I don't want to see what she is thinking.
What do you think? What did you think about TEH? I will try to keep the whole third series out of this fanfiction (that does sound weird to say - third series), but I can't promise anything. It does feel a bit weird to be writing this now, though - but don't worry, I will continue this one!