Chapter Twelve: "I need to tell you something..."
I stood there for what seemed like hours, staring at my new name. I couldn't believe it. He had written his last name as mine. By the character in that man I have seen, this doesn't match up with it.
"Oh God." I hear behind me, it was Molly, leaning over my shoulder to see what I had been gazing at for the past few minutes. Molly has stepped back, covering her mouth.
"You okay Molly?" I asked. She clearly wasn't, but I had to ask.
"I just can't believe he would do such a thing." She said.
"Is this out of character for him?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, it's not a bad thing Clara, I am curious as to why he did it though." She responded.
From outside the morgue door, I could see Sherlock staring at me, signaling me to come to him.
"Listen Molly, I need to go now, but I will see you this afternoon." I say, glancing at the clock before I give her a quick hug. "Have a good day." I add.
I run out of the door and chase after Sherlock, who has already begun walking down the corridor.
"We need to go back to Baker Street." Sherlock says, once I caught up to him. "But first, we need to stop off at the crime scene again. I think we missed something." He finished.
"You seem to never miss anything, so why did you this time?" I say.
"I had something else on my mind." He simply says. I didn't bother asking what it was, I had a feeling as to what it was anyway. We continue walking down the winding corridors of the hospital to the entry. I see the flashing cameras of the few remaining paparazzi and the microphones of reporters.
"Get ready to run." He says, grabbing my hand and pulling me after him through the small mob. Once we had made it through them, we began to run through the busy streets of London. The reporters and photographers gave up on chasing us a while ago. Sherlock and I were still running, as if he had some urgency about him. I caught up to him and kept running with him.
Once we had reached the crime scene, the police had already left. The house was bare, no equipment or people to be seen. Sherlock walked up to the door, pulled out a small leather case that held some metal instruments.
"Keep watch Clara." He said. I realised now what he was doing, he was breaking into the crime scene.
"Sherlock you can't trespass." I whispered loudly. "We are gonna get in trouble for this." I say.
"Don't tell me you're not as curious as I am Clara, I know you are." He said, pulling out the lock picking tools he had in the leather case. I turn around in a huff and cross my arms as a chilling wind blows past. I keep watch for at least a minute, running into the house once Sherlock as the door open to escape the cold.
"Alright, what exactly are you looking for Sherlock?" I say, rubbing my hands together and blowing warm air onto them. I turn and reach into my bag and grab my gloves, notebook and pen. Sherlock just seemed to ignore me, as he was already at the top of the stairs and walking to the room where the body was found. I ponder on up the steep steps and follow after him. I turn about the room. Then something catches my attention in the corner of my eye.
"Someone had been here." I say.
"What?" Sherlock says bluntly.
"Someone else has been here, the window is open just ever so slightly." I say, walking to that window. I push it up to open it. I see that there is a small piece of paper, taped to the window sill outside. I grab it and begin to open it, but Sherlock snatches it from my grasp.
"You right there?" I ask. Shutting the window and turning to face him. Sherlock as turned as white as a sheet. He drops the note and runs out the door.
"Sherlock!" I call after him. Picking up the note.
"Clara don't read the note!" He yell, yet again, snatching it from my hands before I got the chance to read it. "We need to leave this place. Now." He added, grabbing my forearm and dragging me out. I begin to pull against him.
"Sherlock, I am not leaving until you tell me what is on that bloody note." I say, ripping my arm from his hand. "Tell me what is on that note. It is clearly about me." I add.
"Don't argue with me Clara, we have to leave now, I will tell you once we get to Baker Street." He says. I grabs my arm and drags me out the door. We exit the building in silence, my stomach starting to tighten as I begin to think about what is on that note.
Once Sherlock and I got back to Baker Street, he ordered Mrs. Hudson not to let anyone in, only Molly, Lestrade, Mary and John. He lead me into his flat, sat me down in a red chair that was across from a black leather chair. Once he sat me down he began to pace around the room, hands placed together and the tips of them resting on his lips. He was mumbling things but they were too low of tone to be able to hear them. He glanced towards me every so often, but it didn't bother me.
Minutes passed and I heard heavy footsteps heave their way up the steps. I turned to see a man in a grey suit with a red tie standing in the doorway. He had an umbrella and stood would with a stern face.
"Good afternoon Clara." He said. I stood up and backed away into the kitchen. "Do not be alarmed child, I know perfectly who you are." He continued.
"Well I don't know you Sir. So who the hell are you?!" I asked. "Sherlock!" I scream. Almost a second later Sherlock comes running from a room at the back of the flat. He stood in front of me, pushing me behind him.
"What are you doing here Mycroft?" Sherlock asks. I giggle, does all his family have odd names?
"Well I heard about the new addition to our family so I thought I would stop by and meet her." He said, looking at me. "Hello Clara, I'm Sherlock's older brother."
"There is no need to speak to her like she is a child Mycroft." Sherlock said sternly, pushing me behind him even further. "She is smarter than you think brother."
"Well then why hasn't she said anything brother dear?" Mycroft asked, looking at him and then leaning around Sherlock to try and face me. Sherlock puts his arm behind his back and wraps it around my shoulders. He ushers me forward to stand in front of him. He held me still, hands gripping onto my shoulder. It was only now I realised how much shorter I was, I stood about 2 inches under his shoulders. I looked up to face Mycroft, still giving me a look of disappointment.
"What do I call you then? Uncle Mycroft or just Mycroft?" I finally speak up.
"Uncle Mycroft seems to be more suitable. Considering that I am now." He says, "I best be leaving you, you two have a big case ahead of you." Mycroft walked towards the door, Sherlock stepping from behind me and following him. I stayed in the spot I stood. Watching Sherlock ushering Mycroft out of the door.
Once Sherlock had finished getting Mycroft out of the flat, Sherlock sat down in the black leather chair, hands pressed together and at his lips again.
"Clara, please sit down." He asked. "I need to tell you something."