Chapter 9: Goodbye America

When I awoke the next morning, I got out of bed and walked into the small living room hoping to see that it was all just a joke, and that my mother would be there making breakfast. I knew of course that that was not going to happen, but a girl can dream. Instead of my mother awake and making food, I saw my father curled up and asleep on the couch. I watched him for a moment as he slept, wondering how he felt about taking me home. Why hadn't he come to see me at all while I was growing up? Why wasn't I supposed to know who he was? And why now, that I finally did know who he is, did I have to lose my mother? I shook my head; I didn't want to think about those questions. They hurt. So instead I walked into the kitchen hoping to find some food.

I opened bare cupboards and drawers, wishing that something to eat had magically appeared overnight. Nothing had of course. I sighed and walked back into the living room looking at my father's sleeping form. The clock on the stove told me that it was already 9:30 in the morning. If it had been my mother, I would have crawled up there with her in order to wake her up. But it wasn't. It was my… my dad. The word sounded strange in my head. I sighed and looked at the closed door that led to freedom. Then I had a thought, maybe the cabby was out there, and maybe he could get me some food again. I tiptoed over to the door and unlocked it. I pulled it open slowly but it still made a creak. I froze and glanced back at the sleeping figure on the couch, but he had flinched and nothing more, so I continued.

Much to my chagrin, the bookcase was closed. I placed my hands upon the built in handles and started to pull. I froze when I heard my father roll over and mumble "Mrs. Hudson! Must you be so loud?" As I finally got the bookcase open enough for me to slip through, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Where are you going, Alex?" Asked a much disheveled Sherlock Holmes. His dark hair was sticking up in disarray and his eyes were bloodshot.

I looked up at him with large eyes. "I didn't want to wake you." I told him honestly. "I'm hungry and there's nothing to eat in here. I thought maybe the cabby could get me some food…?" A look of confusion crossed his face, followed by one of annoyance.

"I just fed you." He stated plainly.

I crinkled my nose. "Nu uh. That was last night." I raised my eyebrows at him. "What's for breakfast?"

His features suddenly became unreadable and he looked around the room. "I think the hotel has a continental breakfast. Go get dressed and we will go to that." He told me with a sigh.

I quickly ran into the bedroom and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt. I changed my socks, noting that the cuts on my feet were healing nicely and then I ran back out into the living room. I saw that my father was dressed in what looked like the same suit as yesterday with a long black wool coat and a blue scarf. His hair was once again lying down and he shot me a smile as I walked out.

"Where's your hair brush?" He asked me. I looked at him with an expression of loathing and sighed. I hated brushing my hair. It was half way down my back and it had waves to it that made it tangle easily. I realized that it must look very bad as I had not brushed it yesterday either. I walked back into the bedroom and grabbed my brush out of my bag and quickly began running it through my hair. When I got to the back section the brush became stuck and I couldn't get it out. "Mum" I started to call and then remembered. My mum wouldn't be helping with my hair for a while. I couldn't believe that she had just left me.

I sat on the bed, ready to just give up when my father walked in. He took one look at my defeated form and walked over to untangle the brush from my hair. After he was able to carefully remove the brush from the knot it had made he carefully brushed through the rest of my hair. "There." He said looking at me carefully. "Shall we go?"

When we walked into the breakfast room, my dad made a beeline to the hot water spout where he made himself a cup of tea. I on the other hand walked around to see what all they had. There was a waffle maker, bagels, muffins, English muffins and 6 different types of colorful cereals. I grabbed a blueberry muffin and a hot chocolate and sat down across from my father at one of the little tables. We enjoyed our breakfast in silence until a large and jovial man came up beside us.

"Mr. Holmes!" He boomed. "I am so glad that we could have you stay with us!" He turned to look at me, his eyes growing large. "This can't be baby Alexandria?" He asked looking me over. "Why she has gotten so big, and very pretty." He said. I smiled at him politely.

"Yes, this is my little Alexandria. She has definitely grown older since the last time we were here." He replied, taking another drink of his tea. "The tea is still rubbish however."

The big man boomed in laughter. "I'm sorry that our tea selection does not meet your expectations. Not quite as elegant as it is in England I'm afraid. Well, I'd better be off. I'm very glad that we were able to have you here with us. Do come back anytime." He said and with that he walked out of the little room.

I looked at my father with a questioning gaze. He nodded. "That was Mr. Butler." He told me, "Back when you were little I was able to get him off of a murder charge. He let us build the bolt hole in return." I nodded and then continued to eat. I had read about his having bolt holes on Dr. Watson's blog, and I knew that him saving someone from a faulty charge was not at all surprising. Remembering the blog, I stared at my father once again with a quizzical gaze. "What?" He asked shortly.

I tilted my head to the side and furrowed my brows. "Where's your funny hat?" I asked him.

His eyes narrowed a bit. "Even in America, the hat precedes me." He sighed. "It wasn't my hat. And it was a stupid hat at that. It had two fronts! What kind of hat has two fronts?!"

I squinted my eyes. "If it's not your hat, then why's it in the picture on Dr. Watson's blog?"

He sighed again. "Because John seems to think it's f..." He paused for a moment and this time it was his turn to have a questioning gaze. "How have you seen John's blog? You're only 7."

My lips went tight as I glared at those last words. "I'm 8, thank you very much." I told him angrily. "What kind of dad doesn't even know how old his daughter is?" I humphed and went to stand up, but Sherlock placed his hand upon mine.

"Sorry." He he told me earnestly. "I know that you're 8. You've just had a birthday a few months ago."

I eyed him warily, not sure if I was willing to forgive him for that. Then again, what else was I expecting from a man I hadn't seen since I was a toddler? I shrugged at him and walked over to find something else to eat.

After I had finished two bowls of colorful cereal that my mother never would have let me have, and a blueberry muffin I was finally full. I looked up to see my father staring at me again with an unreadable expression.

"Finished?" He asked me quietly. I nodded. "Alright, we need to leave here in 2 hours, so we best go back and pack up the rest of your items." He told me as he stood up to leave.

4 hours later we sat in the large waiting area of the Atlantic City International Airport in New Jersey. All of our bags had been checked, including Dolly. My father had assured me that she would be safe. We sat staring out the window waiting for our 4:15 flight to come in.

When it finally arrived, we boarded the plane and sat in our first class seats, mine by the window. I watched in amazement as we lifted off and then flew over the ocean, heading for my new life in London.