Chapter 6: Sherlock Holmes

I blinked at the pair of silver blue eyes that stared back at me. "Alex." He said "Come on out of there and let me bandage up your feet." He smiled at me and I knew I could trust him. I started to scoot out, my feet feeling like they were on fire. I sat down at the end of the bed; my legs stretched out in front of me and just stared at him. How many times had I wished that I would meet him? How many times had I longed to be able to say hello? Yet at this moment, I could do nothing but stare at him stupidly.

He scooted across the floor to where I sat and inspected my feet. "I need to take care of your feet." He told me calmly, looking into my eyes again. "I'm going to pick you up now, and take you to the kitchen."

I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes, suddenly mad that he had never came to see me before. "I can walk." I told him coldly as I stood up using the bed for support. I tried to bite back the pain that radiated from my feet but a lone tear streamed down my face. Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes, stood up, and picked me up completely ignoring my protests. He sat me down on the kitchen counter and turned on the light. He pulled over a chair and pulled some tweezers out of his coat pocket. I sat there and glared at him ferociously. What did he think he was doing, showing up out of nowhere and acting like he cared? He looked up at me and I saw a slight twinkle in his eyes which only made me glower more.

"I'm sorry." He said, picking up one of my small feet in his hand. "This is going to hurt, but then again that is to be expected when you run through a pile of glass barefoot." He began to pluck the pieces of glass from my feet. I bit my lip and looked up to the ceiling. I was not going to cry in front of him. I was not a baby. I was already 8 years old. However no matter how hard I tried to hold back my tears, a few slid down my cheeks, one of which landed on Sherlock's hand. He pretended not to notice and went on with pulling out the glass on the next foot.

After he had finished, he turned me to the side and stuck my feet under the faucet. I gasped at the stinging pain the water produced but managed to keep from crying. After washing my feet he dried them gently and put some Neosporin on the cuts and some large Band-Aids.

He then picked me up and carried me to the couch, disappearing into the bedroom. 5 seconds later he came out with a pair of my socks and threw them to me. "Go ahead and put those on. It will help keep the Band-Aids intact." I pulled the socks on gently, watching him disappear into the kitchen again. Dolly jumped onto the couch and into my lap. I started to pet her as she purred away in my lap.

After Sherlock did not come back out from the kitchen for a while I strained my neck to try to see him. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't see him from where I sat, and I knew that I couldn't get off the couch without stepping on the glass that was strewn about.

"Uhhhh…" I started to say, wondering what I should call him. I was still rather mad at him and did not feel like calling him dad, but I didn't know how to get his attention. Lucky for me I didn't have to as he stuck his head around the archway. I bit my lip. "Are you gonna clean up the glass?" I asked.

He looked kind of confused by my statement but then sighed and disappeared into the kitchen again returning with a broom. "You know, if you just wore shoes none of this would have happened." He muttered under his breath as he cleaned up the mess. I walked into the kitchen to grab my note and saw that it was not where I had left it on the counter. Instead it was on the table next to a lamp without a shade. I walked over to it and picked it up, re-reading my mother's words. It was now 4:30 according to the stove clock and I wondered where my mum was.

Sherlock walked in behind me and quickly snatched the note out of my hand. "Don't tamper with the evidence." He said shortly, moving to stand in front of the lamp.

"Evidence?" I asked, reaching to get the note back from him. "That's not evidence. It's my note. My mum wrote it to me." He held the note out of my reach, looking it over as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Give me that." I told him. "It's mine."

"I don't think so." Sherlock mumbled, walked around me to the table with the lamp on it.

"It's addressed to Lexie." I told him simply. "I'm Lexie. You are not. So let me have it." When he still didn't comply I huffed and climbed into the chair next to where he was sitting, holding the paper up to the ceiling light. I quickly stood up and reached for the note, snatching it out of his hand, making a run to the bedroom. However before I could make it even two feet a long bony hand caught me by the wrist. Sherlock quickly took the paper from my hands and picked me up, depositing me onto the chair.

"Either sit still and stay here, or so help me I will handcuff you there." He said, an edge of steel in his voice.

He flipped the lamp on and held the note up to it. Soon small brownish writing appeared in between the lines of what my mother had written to me. "Hand me a paper and pen. Top drawer to the left of the sink." He told me quickly.

"You said to sit still and stay here." I told him, happy for a reason to be mildly defiant.

I stared at him for a minute, thinking that maybe I had won this battle before he said "Now" In a stern manner. I quickly jumped down off of the chair and grabbed the pen and paper, handing them to him. He started writing down a long list of letters and numbers. I stared at the letters but none of them created words. After he had finished copying down the letters he handed me the paper. "There's your note back." He said and then he started writing down the alphabet and my full name and birthday underneath, going backwards. I watched him as he started to unscramble the letters.

"Is that a cypher?" I asked him.

He looked up at me briefly, looking annoyed at my interference. "Yes." He replied simply.

"Can I try?" I asked him. He did not look up at me or make any notice of me at all. I scooted closer and pointed to a M. on the paper. "That's a G." I told him.

He sighed. "Yes I know that. Can't you see I'm busy? Go watch cartoons or something." He said never looking away from his work.

I glared at him, but walked away. I was hurt by his words and I decided that even though cyphers were cool, I did not want to be around him. I walked into the living room and turned on the TV. There wasn't anything on that I found to be interesting and so I decided that I was done with this little room. I wanted to find my mum. My dad was mean and I did not want to be around him. So I kept the TV on and tiptoed to the door, opening it slowly. The bookcase was still open and I peeked out, seeing that the Cabby was nowhere in sight I walked into the room and quietly shut the door behind me. I opened the staff room door and peeked out. There wasn't anyone in the hallway either so I stepped out, wondering which way my mother would have went. I turned to the left and walked down the hall, running my hands across the bumpy wallpaper.

I had just rounded a corner when I heard a commotion and a voice that I knew instantly to be my father. I broke into a run and slid on a rug, crashing into the wall. It was then that I saw one of the doors were open. I darted inside, slamming the door shut behind me. I leaned up against the door, breathing hard. After catching my breath, I looked around, taking in my surroundings. The wallpaper was cream and fresh in this room and the queen sized bed was disheveled. There were clothes lying all over the room and it smelled of a sweet smoke. I heard a cough come from inside of the bathroom when suddenly the bathroom door opened. An older overweight man, wearing a stained white t-shirt and boxers stepped out with a joint hanging from his lips. He was in desperate need of a shave and his eyes were blood shot. He looked at me without moving for a moment, rubbing his eyes in incredulity.

"Well, what have we here?" He asked in a gruff voice. I stood up quickly and tried to pull the door open, when it wouldn't budge he took a step towards me and I screamed. Just then the door behind me clicked open and a hotel employee came in and grabbed my arm.

"I am terribly sorry about zee intrusion." He said in a perfect French accent. "This young child was playing, how you say, hide and seek. I've been trying to catch her and return her to her parents for quite some time. Sorry again for zee inconvenience monsieur." He pulled me out of the room and led me down the hall saying "Zee hotel is no place for playing games."

I tried to pull my hand away but his long bony hand held my small wrist in an iron grip. I looked closer at it and then flipped my head up to look into his face. This was no French employee. This was my father Sherlock Holmes! My eyes grew wide and he looked down and winked at me, continuing to pull me along. I followed him more willingly as we rounded the corner and was surprised to see that we did not once again enter the little room. Instead we walked through the back door to the outside and I saw once again the black cab we had ridden in the night before.