Prepare yourself! You'll know why soon! Enjoy everyone!
Macey followed Sherlock into the kitchen and looked around, bemused by the size. "So, you live in an expensive Brownstone…how?"
Sherlock ignored the question and opened a set of curtained doors, revealing a large room, complete with a large bed covered in sheets and blankets, a large Victorian dresser, a plasma screen T.V., and a desk with a computer set on it.
Macey's jaw dropped. "Again, how? You work as an unpaid consultant for the NYPD and you live in one of the most expensive Brownstone's I've ever seen…" She looked at him suspiciously.
"My father pays for the Brownstone as long as I'm sober." Sherlock straightened one of the few pictures gracing the wall.
Macey nodded. "I heard about your rock-bottom situation with drugs…I'm assuming that was what Miss Watson was here for…well, until she became your 'right hand woman', am I right?" Macey censored herself. She didn't want to be sent back to London, back to the Hell-hole.
Joan nodded.
Macey dropped her bag onto the twin-sized bed and scoped the room, her gaze settling on the desktop computer. She ventured over to it and her eyes lit up, a smirk playing across her features. "Unlimited internet access?"
Sherlock blocked her from the computer. "I have secured certain networks. You will not be allowed to visit certain websites for obvious reasons."
Macey rolled her eyes. "You think a website blocker will stop me?"
Sherlock glared. "If you even try to weasel your way past it, I will personally drive you to the airport and send you off on the first flight out of here."
Macey gritted her teeth. "Fine."
"Promise me." Sherlock demanded in a father-like manner.
Macey sighed in defeat. "I promise."
Joan decided to break the tension by changing the subject. "Um, as you can see, the kitchen is right outside your bedroom door…so if you're ever hungry, help yourself to anything in our kitchen."
Macey seemed stunned. "You mean I get to eat as much of anything I want?"
Joan nodded with a smile. "As long as you leave us something to eat."
Macey gave one of her few gracious smiles. It was a rare event whenever Macey smiled. She had been through so much that a smile was a rare sight to anyone who knew her.
A high-pitched ring echoed throughout the Brownstone, surprising everyone but Macey.
Macey bounded out of the room and ran to answer the door, Sherlock and Joan following close behind. Macey opened the door and greeted the older man on the doorstep.
"Hello there. Captain Gregson, I presume?" Macey outstretched her hand, stifling laughter at the Captain's surprised/confused expression.
He shook her hand, glancing behind her into the Brownstone. "Uh, is Sherlock Holmes here…? He texted me-"
"No, I texted you." Macey grinned, waving Sherlock's phone in the space between them. Unbeknownst to Sherlock, Macey had pickpocketed him in the taxi, taken his phone, and set the Captain a text as soon as their attention was elsewhere.
"Uh…what?" Captain Gregson pulled out his phone and began to scroll through his recent messages.
"Captain?" Sherlock walked up behind Macey and Joan pulled her into the Brownstone, pushing her out of sight.
Captain Gregson pocketed his phone. "So, I came here because I got a text telling me to…but I guess it was a prank text?"
Sherlock apologized. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm watching my niece and she can be…well, a…a…"
"Pain in the ass? Those are teenagers for you." Gregson chuckled.
Sherlock sighed. "Well, I guess since you're already here…" He motioned for the Captain to come inside.
The Captain entered and made his way to the room Sherlock had recently deemed the 'case room'. He sat on the couch and gazed up at the wall of crazy. It had grown since the last time he had seen it, new leads stretching across the length of the wall and covering the wall from floor to ceiling.
Sherlock came into the room, Joan and Macey trailing behind.
"So about the case-" The Captain started.
Sherlock cut in, "Hold that thought, Captain. Macey, room. Now."
Macey began to argue, but was silenced by Joan reminding her about what was on the line. She stormed out of the room, grumbling to herself about it not being fair.
The Captain waited until the teen had left and looked at Sherlock. He looked mentally worn out. "Don't worry, Holmes. She's just going through that 'independent' phase all teens go through. Macey just needs some time alone to figure herself out."
"What she needs is discipline." Sherlock huffed.
Gregson crossed his arms. "Have you ever been a father? 'Cause I have. I've been through this twice already and I'm going to be going through it again in about three years when Chelsea turns thirteen. I consider myself a pro at teenage behavior. And if you feel the need to discipline her, do it gently."
Sherlock reluctantly nodded. He never wanted to agree with someone about anyone being better than him at something, but this was necessary…and he was exhausted.
"I'd send her to school, if I were you. It may be refreshing for her to make some friends and get out once in a while, instead of being stuck here in her room." Captain Gregson suggested.
"Oh, I had planned for her to attend school. I just am a little apprehensive because she seems like the type to run." Sherlock explained, taking a seat on the couch.
"I know the principal at Xavier High School…I could get her into a few classes and have her assigned to an accompanying teacher. They also have security at all the entrances and exits, so it is near impossible to escape. She'll be able to meet new people, learn a few things, and adapt to a friendly environment." Captain Gregson pulled out his phone, preparing to make the call to the principal.
"Thanks, Captain. That is very sweet of you." Joan smiled. She watched as he flashed her a smile before excusing himself into the hallway.
Sherlock groaned. "I don't think an accompanying teacher or security could prevent her from escaping…"
"This is a huge city that she has never been to. Do you really think she'd run away? Where would she even go?" Joan pointed out.
"Don't underestimate her. She is smart…not smarter than me, but smart nonetheless." Sherlock retorted.
Captain Gregson came into the room and pocketed his phone once more. "It's set. She'll be able to attend tomorrow. She'll get the tour, pick out some classes, and meet some teachers and peers. She'll need a notebook, some pencils or pens, and a backpack. They've set her up with the free lunch program, so there is no need to pack one. She doesn't have any allergies does she?"
Joan shrugged and looked to Sherlock.
Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since she was three, except in pictures. How would I know if she has allergies?"
Captain Gregson rolled his eyes. "This is what I'm talking about. Another reason she may resent you is because you have had no previous contact with her. She doesn't trust you yet. I may have said to let her have some 'independent' time, but that doesn't mean you have to leave her be and exclude her. Get to know her, Sherlock. Talk to her. Find out unique things about her. You'll create a bond. And who knows? Maybe you'll find things in common with her."
Sherlock huffed and crossed his arms in defense. "I have nothing in common with her."
The Captain made his way over to Sherlock and placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Sherlock, you may not see it yet, but I can see many things you have in common with this girl. She reminds me of you."
Sherlock scoffed. "Like I have stated previously, I do not have anything in common with Macey!"
Captain Gregson chuckled. "Okay, Holmes. Whatever you say." He made his way to the front door and began to exit, adding something that nobody would hear.
"But, from what I've seen, Macey is just like you."
…
"School?! I don't think so, Holmes." Macey dropped her fork onto her plate and stared in disbelief at the pair sitting across from her.
"We think it would give you the opportunity to meet new people and make new friends." Joan smiled, hoping Macey would agree and calm down.
"So you think making me the new kid with a teacher escort will help me make friends? Do you know anything about high school?" Macey argued. "I'll be eaten alive!"
"You're a tough girl, Macey, you can handle it." Sherlock stuffed a forkful of chicken pot pie into his mouth.
"Yeah, I'm tough…with my fists…" Macey mumbled under her breath.
"You will not fight, run away, or behave in a negative way that would, in turn, bring negativity towards the school, NYPD, or us. Got it?" Sherlock laid all the rules out on the table.
"Yes, dad." Macey grumbled sarcastically. "I mean, come on! I'm only here for two weeks. Who the Hell goes to school for two weeks?" Macey argued.
"Two weeks or two days, I don't care. You are still going." Sherlock ended the argument.
Macey's shoulders slumped and she picked her fork up. She picked at her food and played with it, pushing it from one end of the plate to the other.
"Aren't you hungry?" Joan asked, watching her play with the food in front of her. "You haven't taken a single bite…it's going to get cold."
Macey shrugged and slumped down in the chair.
"Sit up straight." Sherlock demanded.
Macey obliged reluctantly. She placed her elbows on the table and continued to twirl her fork around in the gravy.
"Elbows off the table." Sherlock added, still speaking in a demanding tone.
Macey did as she was told. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the table.
Joan tried to continue conversing with Macey, hoping Macey would shed the tiniest sliver of light on her life. "So, how long have you lived in London?"
Macey began to answer, but was cut off by Sherlock.
"Macey, eat. You will not be able to get any more food until tomorrow morning, so I'd be smart and eat what is given to you." Sherlock pointed at her plate.
"But you said I could help myself to whatever I want in the kitchen…" Macey looked up at him, confused.
"Those privileges will be revoked if you don't eat."
"Privileges? I thought it was just a kind gesture…" Macey's clasped hands tightened, her memory flashing back to Ms. Winston's statements. 'That is a privilege. Only good little girls get that.'
"Macey?" Joan asked, her tone soft.
Sherlock spoke over Joan. "Macey. What did I just say? Eat or have your privilege revoked!"
Macey stood, suddenly. She chucked the fork to the side, it colliding with the wall and skidding across the floor and out into the hallway. "Enough!" Macey made a bee-line for her room, trying her hardest to reign in her anger.
Sherlock stood. "Sit back down and pick up your fork! You did not excuse yourself!"
Macey spun around to face him, her blood boiling.
Joan stood up carefully. She searched for the fork and retrieved it, placing it on the table. She went to Macey's side and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Sit back down! You are not excused yet!" Sherlock continued to demand.
"Why are you yelling at me?!" Macey felt angry tears stream down her face.
"Because you deserve it!" Sherlock strode towards her.
"What did I do to deserve this? I'm sorry I threw the fork! Is that what you want to hear? That I'm sorry?" Macey sobbed.
"No. Sit back down now!" Sherlock screamed.
"Sherlock…" Joan tried to stop his rampage.
He ignored her. "Macey, do as you're told!"
"No." Macey put her foot down. "I don't have to."
"Do you want to go back to London and rot in that shabby old prison of a house?!" Sherlock threatened.
"Yes! Send me back! At least they never scream at me! They never get on my case and they never ever would treat me like this! You're my uncle, Sherlock! Why would you do this to your own niece?!"
"Because my niece is a low-life criminal!" Sherlock covered his mouth and the anger disappeared. What had he done? "Macey…Oh my –I'm sorry…I didn't…"
Macey clenched her fists and shrugged Joan's hand off her shoulder. She ran to the stairs and sprinted up them, tears streaming down her face, leaving a path of sadness.
Sherlock and Joan watched her run away. Once she was out of sight, Joan turned to Sherlock.
"Joan…I'm sorry." Sherlock apologized.
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You're lucky if she doesn't run away after what you just did, Sherlock."
Sherlock tried to apologize again, but Joan cut him off.
"You know, when Gregson told you to discipline her, I don't think he meant scream at her." Joan glared and ran to catch up with Macey.
Sherlock slumped down into a chair. "What have I done?"
See? It's sad. I promise it'll get better...or maybe it won't. I don't know. We'll see, cause I haven't even thought about what the next chapter will be. Well, we'll see soon, won't we? :)
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