Author's Note: I've figured out an update schedule for this story. I will try to upload a chapter every Wednesday and Saturday. Anyways, enjoy!

Deductions, deductions, deductions.

Nova was amazed and annoyed with everything he was figuring out. He had been rattling off all that he knew about her for the past few minutes.

"Amnesia." Nova wasn't surprised he knew this, it was obvious that she had amnesia.

"Homeless." Again, no surprise.

"Little to no friends." Now it was getting a bit odd. How could he know that?

"Didn't start using drugs until about a month ago." There was no way he would be able to figure that out by just looking at her!

He just kept going on and on. She wondered if he would ever stop. A fascinating as his deduction skills were, she didn't like that he could know this much about her.

"Smokes, but only if the cigarettes are free."

"Single."

"No family."

"Anxiety."

"Occasional prostitute."

Nova jumped out of her seat to have a go at Sherlock. Before she could punch him in the face, the detective was standing, holding her clenched fist. He was stronger than he looked. "Anger issues. Not a good thing to have when you're malnourished and can't fight." Sherlock's expression was smug but the girls face was red with anger, her whole body shaking with rage. "There's no way in hell you can know this stuff." She spit at him.

"You've come into a bit of money recently, judging by your clothes. Not a lot but enough to splurge. It didn't come from any 'traditional' job, people don't hire the homeless. It's most likely not the drug trade since you've been using drugs yourself. The slightly intelligent ones in the drug trade don't use them, easier to get caught that way. The chances of a young homeless girl selling her body are incredibly high. Therefore, prostitute."

"It only happened a few times and it was with people I knew." She wanted to slap that 'don't deny it because you know I'm right' look right off Sherlock's face. Nova decided against it though since he could probably pin her down in two seconds and she did not feel well enough to exert any more energy in retaliation.

"Thank you for confirming my suspicion."

It was at this moment that a certain doctor arrived back at his flat. John Watson had had a very long day at work and was hoping that the girl on their couch had woken up by the time he got home. He hoped even more that his flat mate had been at least a little bit kind to her. Sadly, wishing and hoping were not enough in this situation. He quickly learned this as he entered the flat and saw the girl and Sherlock. Nova, looking as though she was about to kill the detective, and Sherlock looking as though he had come across something slightly amusing.

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?" John said in exasperation.

Nova turned towards the door where John stood, still having her wrist held by the consulting detective. Those tired eyes were easily recognizable. "Of course not, John." Sherlock stated before she could say anything. "Could you let go of me now?" She said through gritted teeth as she tried to pull away her wrist. Her effort was mostly futile. Finally, he let go.

She rubbed her wrist and glared at the tall man, before turning her attention to John. "Thank you very much for helping me, John, was it? But I think I should be on my way now." The girls tone towards the ex-army doctor was polite.

"What?" John was surprised. "But you're not well! Please let me have another look at you." Nova gave him an odd expression. "Have another look at me?" She said. The doctor mentally chastised himself for not being more clear. "I'm a doctor. I checked over your health when I brought you here. I'm sorry, but I thought you were dying." The girl looked more understanding now, but she gave it a moments thought. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt, but I have little money to pay you for your work."

"You don't have to pay me."

"But I should."

"But I won't make you. I get enough money from the hospital."

Nova dug her nails into her arm again. Everything about this day was giving her anxiety. Maybe she should just agree to it so she could get out of the flat as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was getting bored of all this. "I'll be in the kitchen." He said, leaving the two. He closed the sliding kitchen door behind him and jumped into an experiment, quickly forgetting the girl that was standing in his living room.

To John's delight, Nova finally agreed to letting him check her over. As they sat on the couch, they made small talk.

"What's your name?"

"Nova."

"Where do you come from?"

"America."

"Do you have any relative in London?"

"Not that I know of."

"How old are you?"

"Probably seventeen. Could be sixteen or even eighteen. Hard to tell when you don't know your birthday."

He gave her an odd look as he was checking her heart beat. She should have just said seventeen and just left it that, but she hadn't really thought of her answer. She hoped he wouldn't ask her what she meant.

"What do you mean?"

And here we see again, hope is useless.

"It's a long story."

"I have time." He was really bent on learning her past, wasn't he?

She gave a frustrated sigh before she leapt into her past, or at least, what she could remember of it.

"I don't remember much of what happened before I was eleven. I woke up in an abandoned house with no recollection of anything. All I had was a piece of paper. One second I should have it in my-" She dug around in her pockets, looking for the note. She couldn't find it. Her heart fluttered with panic. One would tend to do that in a situation where the only thing attached to their past was lost. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "I can't find it." Nova didn't want to look crazy in front of a stranger who had shown her so much kindness, so she tried to stay cool and collected.

"What did it say?" He noticed the panic.

"My name is Nova, I am eleven, I am from America, I am alone." The girl said in a low tone, her voice wavering slightly. She had never said the words out loud and it felt so odd to say them. She was suddenly hit with a memory.

And it wasn't a good one.