Felicity was mute.
She couldn't think, couldn't speak; she could barely breathe. Felicity felt as if every color had faded away until she could only see the world in blurring shades of grey. The car ride was gloomy. Her meeting with the superintendent had been in black and white. Now, as she sat in her room, staring at the burn marks on the wall from her attack on Sherlock, the world was still blank to her. The simplest tasks; eating, sleeping, working: they were all so foreign. How could she keep on going when she had no fuel? Eventually, she was pulled out of her daze by a sharp chirp from her computer. When she checked it, Felicity found an email from a blocked address which could only mean one thing- Mycroft. The school's policy had never let her receive emails before, and the blocked address had to be Mycroft's doing.
Felicity,
If things are to get better, preparations need to be made. At the present, CPS has gone over Charley's will and they have made the recommendation to keep you at Ruth's Academy for Young Ladies until your tuition runs out two years from now. This should not and cannot occur. To circumnavigate this, you need to graduate as soon as possible. When that happens, you will become a ward of the state, which will make you available for adoption. Sherlock and John have already begun to make the necessary requests into becoming your legal guardians. Even with my help, this process will take a considerable amount of time- a week at best.
I will continue to email you in an effort to keep you updated on the stipulations in Charley's will. With your help, I can clear up a lot of the issues standing between you and adoption. Remember that I cannot help you unless you help yourself. I do not wish to pretend that I understand your grief, but know that I do empathize.
Begin to get your credits in order. Attached to this email is a list of tasks that I have already performed in your stead. Look over them to make sure that I have handled your family's belongings with the upmost care. The superintendent has already been notified of your pursuits to graduate and will help you in any way possible. Once you are ready, Ruth's will contact myself and CPS to make your transition to adoption as smooth as possible.
Sincerely Yours,
Mycroft Holmes
Felicity stared at the email until her eyes watered with tears. Her world was falling apart and Mycroft, John, and Sherlock were there, trying to hold all the pieces for her. Their kindness threatened to overwhelm her, but Mycroft's words had broken through her numb delirium. Begin to get your credits in order. She needed to graduate as soon as possible. She had to work. With that one goal pushing at her blank mind, Felicity started her task mindlessly. She gathered papers, breezed through assignments, and talked with her professors. She was still flat, still dead on the outside, but her insides thrummed with life. Once Felicity started to hand in weeks and weeks of work in a matter of hours, her credits began to pile up. She took exam after exam, skipped a few grades, and wrote a thesis over a 48 hour period that would have made Sherlock proud.
OoOoOoO
Through it all, John and Sherlock threw themselves into the adoption process. After a day-long battle with CPS, their names were cleared from the 'never let these maniacs adopt' list. Mycroft's heavy hand of influence helped get an inspector at the flat the next day, which sent Mrs. Hudson, John and Sherlock into a flurry of cleaning, hiding and organizing until the flat was almost decent. Next came the interviews. John passed his with flying colors, having a solid, criminal free record. He was a soldier, a doctor, a good person in the eyes of CPS. Sherlock, however, had quite a few problems. He had a history of stealing, breaking and entering, and drug use. He had to get quite a few people to testify for him, but thanks to his never ending supply of people who owed him favors, CPS grudgingly passed him on the interview. After a long and lengthy confusion on CPS' part on whether John and Sherlock were a couple (John and Sherlock couldn't answer because they weren't sure themselves), the doctor and the detective were added to the list of potential adopters as two legal guardians at the same residence.
Then came the adoption process. Because Felicity was a child at risk and her life was currently tied up in a legal nightmare, she wasn't put on the register for almost three days. Sherlock and John had done all they could, so this time period weighed heavily on them. With nothing to do, Sherlock became more and more agitated. Every second Felicity was at Ruth's she would be getting worse and worse. His guilt, his worry, his need to protect was killing him because he couldn't apply it to the person for whom he felt the sentiment in the first place. Mycroft texted him hourly with updates, and with snippets of the emails she sent him, but they were all dry, flat quotes that Sherlock could deduce nothing from.
He met often with Mycroft. The two of them had been in separate boarding schools when their father passed away, and both of them knew what it was like to hide emotion, to be hated by everyone around you. Both men were practically twitching at the nostalgia as they discussed arrangements for Charley's funeral. Because the adoption process was taking so much time, Charley had been cremated on base in Kuwait and his ashes were to be returned home. Charley's regiment had been notified of the delay in the service, and the men only responded with concerns for Felicity. Most of them were still in Kuwait, unable to take time off for the funeral until they had a set date to ask for. All of them wanted to know the men who were about to take their 'communal little sister' into their custody, so John and Sherlock slogged through email after email, sending reassurance and explaining themselves. Once their history with Felicity was made clear, every soldier was relieved, and offered thanks for their support.
The days ticked by as each side in the adoption process waited impatiently.
OoOoOoO
Five days since her brother's death, Felicity was sitting in front of the superintendent, white-faced and exhausted. Her skin had a nasty pallor to it; she hadn't eaten or slept since his death. Despite her suffering, she had worked, and hard. All of her credits were in order, and the superintendent had pushed a sealed and gilded envelope across the table towards Felicity. It was her GED- she was a graduate; she was free from the school's prison like schedule. Until a meeting could be arranged through CPS and adoption services, Felicity was a guest at Ruth's Academy for Young Ladies.
While the superintendent was a hard faced, cold man, he knew true sorrow when he saw it; he happened to get a heavy dose of it whenever he met with the most troublesome, brilliant student he'd ever admitted to the Academy. She was sitting silently in front of him now, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and grief as they stared at the envelope on the desk. Compassion rose up in the man from an unknown place, pushing him to speak. "Felicity, when was the last time you ate or slept?" He asked quietly, worriedly, and it took her a moment to look at him.
"Irrelevant." Her voice was hoarse and lifeless as she slowly took the envelope. Her fingers were shaking, the superintendent noted. Those long, pale digits were trembling so badly, it was hard for her to get a good grip on her diploma. "Thank you for easing my graduation process, sir." She said, her tone clearly asking for dismissal.
"Felicity, I know that you are no longer under my jurisdiction, but I strongly advise you to get some rest. I'll send someone up when CPS has contacted my office." He said firmly, and her haunted gaze met his for a minute longer before she rose, giving him a terse nod before walking stiffly out. A rational part of her realized that he was right as she slowly made her way back to her room. Dark spots were growing in her peripheral vision, and her knees felt weak. Her mind instantly pushed the symptoms aside; she needed to contact Mycroft at once with the news of her graduation. Felicity had made it to her room and had just tucked the certificate out of sight when her door opened and a few girls stepped in to her room, Wellembry in the lead. Her smirk was feral.
"Aw, look. The freak is leaving us. How sad." She said with mock sorrow, and the girls sniggered. "You weren't even going to say goodbye, were you? Just because your prick brother couldn't do the same to you doesn't mean that you could be rude enough to not do the same for us." Wellembry snarled, motioning for the door to Felicity's room to be closed. The door swung shut with a foreboding click. The comment lashed into Felicity's mind, making her want to scream and cry and attack all at once. She was obviously hurt, obviously grieving, and yet the torture still had to continue? It didn't seem fair. Wellembry sauntered forward, eyes glittering with malice. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that your brother was a soldier, someone to be treated with respect. My apologies." She mocked, and threw a punch. Felicity made no move to defend herself, so the resulting blow hit her square in the jaw, snapping her head to the side. Another punch hit her eye. A blow hit her in the ribs, the force of it sending her staggering back into the desk. "Here's a little goodbye present, from all of us here at Ruth's." Wellembry hissed, and the girls converged.
Kicks, punches and jabs landed everywhere as Felicity quickly crumpled under the onslaught of violence. There was no protecting herself against them; there were too many and she was in no state, mentally or physically, to defend herself. She took the abuse without protest, without any sort of defense. After a few minutes, the girls backed off, retreating out of her room, giggling under their breath as they snuck back to their own rooms. Felicity lay where the last kick had sent her- sprawled on her side, the carpet pressing against her already sore and bruising eye. She made no move to get up for the longest time, as her dulled mind struggled to process her physical pain with her mental one. A sick part of her savored the agony- she finally felt the same on the outside as she did on the inside. She had the perfect metaphor for how she'd been feeling this whole time. Only when her beaten muscles started to cramp and ache in protest did Felicity slowly get to her feet, staggering with dizziness. She made it to the computer, sitting painfully down and booting it up. She had one thing to do before she collapsed.
Mycroft,
You will soon receive word of my graduation from Ruth's Academy for Young Ladies. Thank you for your support an input during the process. What is the status of my adoption?
Sincerely,
Felicity
With that quick email sent, Felicity methodically changed out of her now ripped and rumpled clothes and into pajamas. She checked for serious injuries and only found lots of heavy bruises pretty much everywhere. Unable to dwell on her attack with her numbed mind, she locked her door and crawled into bed. Too exhausted to cry or think anymore, she succumbed to sleep. When she woke up, it was instantly obvious to her that time had passed. For one thing, her joints, which would have been swollen up to twelve hours after the beating they received, were not swollen. She was dreadfully sore and stiff, but her joints were all in working order. Secondly, her mind was for once numb from a different agent; this time, her mind was lethargic from sleeping for a long time. Thirdly, from her position on the bed, she could see that her door had been unlocked and then closed again without the deadbolt being refastened. Conclusion: she'd slept for about twenty four hours and someone from Ruth's had come to check on her after she didn't respond to someone coming up to speak with her. Something had to have happened if an official from the school had been up to see her.
Wasting no time, Felicity limped out of bed and into her bathroom. One shower later, she was dressed in clean, dark clothes. She pulled her fiery hair back into a simple bun and then studied her reflection. The clothing she chose covered her from head to toe except for her face to hide the deep bruises Wellembry's attack had left. Despite that, she had an impressive black eye on the same side that her old elementary school bully had blackened so long ago. It took a while, but Felicity soon masked the bruise expertly with makeup, blending the powders and goop into her skin to hide the fact that she was wearing any in the first place; she didn't want people to notice. Her face was grim, colorless, and gaunt as it stared back at her, her usually bright and intelligent eyes still dulled with loss. It took her a while to look away from her face in the mirror. Listlessly, she went to her computer to check for updates.
Felicity,
Congratulations on your graduation from secondary school as well as university. You have been admitted to the list of adoptable children by CPS and are awaiting your matchup with Sherlock and John. The arrangements have been finalized for your brother's funeral and all of your belongings from your previous residence in Sussex have been placed in storage or have been relocated to 221B, as per your request.
Sincerely Yours,
Mycroft Holmes
Beneath that email, there was a second one.
Felicity,
You have been matched with Sherlock and John. Because of your silence, I had an officer of Ruth's check on you. Please refrain from scaring us like that again. Your final meeting regarding your adoption and the finalization of Charley's will is scheduled to take place on Friday. CPS agent Eugene Block will escort you from Ruth's Academy for Young Ladies to Scotland Yard.
Sincerely Yours,
Mycroft Holmes
Felicity glanced at the date and time located at the bottom of her computer screen. It was five in the morning, but today was in fact Friday. She would be leaving Ruth's today. Meek joy filtered into her thoughts as she stared at the computer. This nightmare was ending; she'd be in London again soon, in the safe protection of John and Sherlock. That thought in mind, she went down to the kitchens and ate a meager meal, just enough to keep her going through the day. Then she went upstairs and packed. An officer came up around seven to ask her to pack and was surprised to find her sitting on an unmade bed, all of her belongings packed neatly into boxes around her. It took another half hour for the CPS agent to arrive. Block did a slight double take at the sight of Felicity, but got all of her things shipped out nonetheless. He ushered her to his awaiting vehicle and drove her back to London in silence.
When they arrived at the Yard, Block ushered her into the same interrogation room she'd been in a week before. "Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson are currently meeting with your adoption agent. Once your lawyer arrives, we will finalize all paperwork and send you home." Block told Felicity as she silently sat down, her beaten muscles thankful for the relief. Felicity said nothing. Instead, she gazed at the metal tabletop. After about twenty minutes, Block's mobile phone went off. "Agent Block," he answered it, and listened for a few moments. "Alright, thank you. We're on our way." He affirmed, and shut the phone. He expected Felicity to leap up and head for the door at the news that her lawyer was here, but she hadn't moved an inch. He cleared his throat, expecting a reaction, and received none. "Your lawyer is here, Felicity." He declared finally, and she blinked, breaking out of her daze to look at him. Before, Block had been intimidated by her cold, drilling stare. Now, he couldn't be more horrified by the blank, lost look on her face. Her eyes were dull, not able to focus even when they were staring right at him.
Felicity rose, just remembering to act as if she wasn't sore and bruised- if CPS found out about her attack, they would want to perform an investigation that could take weeks to resolve. All she wanted was to go home. Block put a sure arm around her shoulders and steered her through the familiar office and to the same conference room where she'd heard the news of her brother's death. He knocked. "Come in," an unfamiliar, reedy voice called, and Block opened the door, guiding Felicity through. Seated at the long conference table were four people. On one side, a middle-aged man with a CPS badge was sitting with a stack of papers in front of him. Next to him was a much more posh man in a tan trench coat with a briefcase; the lawyer. Both men rose as Felicity entered. On the other side of the table were Sherlock and John. The previously firm, military look on John's face fell to the wayside at the sight of Felicity to instantly be replaced with anxiousness. Sherlock had twitched as if to stand, his had clenching into a fist on the table. He watched as Felicity silently shook hands with her lawyer when he insisted, watched as Block pulled up a chair for her, and watched as she sat down, looking into her lap.
"Alright, let's make this quick, shall we?" The other CPS agent with the reedy voice spoke first as everyone stared at Felicity, waiting for her to make the first move. When it was obvious that she wasn't going to, he felt compelled to act. "All of the papers are in order. Felicity, do you understand that you will be under the legal guardianship of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson?" He asked, and Felicity gave a mute nod. "And this is agreeable to you?" He pressed, and she nodded again, just once. He looked to the lawyer, who cleared his throat in a gesture of self-importance. He reached into his briefcase and withdrew a packet of finely printed paper. He breezed through the summary of what the papers were (legally binding documents that placed Felicity in the joint custody of the two men) and then shuffled to the back page, where there were six lines for signatures.
"Would the two gentlemen please sign?" He asked, passing a pen to Sherlock and John. The detective and the doctor quickly signed on the lines as instructed and passed the pen back. "Then the two witnesses from CPS," the lawyer directed, and the reedy-voiced man and Agent Block signed the documents. "Ms. Felicity?" the lawyer questioned, extending the pen to her. No one at the table missed how Felicity's fingers shook as she plucked the pen from his grasp and signed her name. She felt like her heart was shattering all over again- she was no longer a Muller. Her family was gone forever. Signing the papers seemed to make it official that Charley was in fact dead and he wasn't coming back. "And my turn…" the lawyer made a brief scribble, "There. Felicity Georgiana Muller is now Felicity Georgiana Watson-Holmes, under the joint custody of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. You are all free to go." He said in much too jovial of a tone, capping the pen and slipping the document into his briefcase once more. As soon as he said it, both John and Sherlock stood up at once. Felicity was much slower on the uptake, and so by the time she'd gotten out of her seat, Sherlock and John were already there, Sherlock in the lead.
In an instant he'd embraced her, hugged her close. The smell of his coat, the strength of his arms, the safety and comfort that he brought; it was all too much for Felicity. Tears threatened to spring from her eyes for the first time since Charley was killed. She hadn't allowed herself to cry, not when there was work to be done. Now that it was all over, her body screamed for the ugly release of crying. Despite that need, Felicity held herself back. She didn't want to cry here, not with the CPS agents watching, not with all of the Yard's officers watching. She still felt as if she had to be in control every second of every day, and the only place she could even consider losing it was at Baker Street with her two best friends at her side. "Please get me out of here. Please, Sherlock." Felicity managed to whisper as she tried to quell her shaking. Sherlock reacted at once.
"John, call Mycroft, make sure there is a car ready and waiting for us." He said in a low, intense voice by Felicity's ear. John made some noise of assent as the CPS agents and the lawyer filed out. "Do you want me to carry you, Felicity?" Sherlock asked, and Felicity shook her head. She knew that she needed to walk, needed to make it to the car, but all her sentiment-hijacked mind wanted to do was stay in the folds of Sherlock's coat. "Let's get you home." Sherlock said half firmly, half worriedly. It was that gentle order that made Felicity get a hold of herself. She released the limp pressure she'd managed to apply in return of Sherlock's embrace and she straightened, bottling emotion away hopefully for the last time. Sherlock looked at her face briefly, as if to confirm that she didn't need carrying, and Felicity was relieved somewhere in her head that Sherlock was too preoccupied to notice the carefully blended makeup around her left eye. Sherlock wrapped a strong arm around her and steered her out, John in the lead. As they left the Yard, a jet black car pulled up. John barely waited for the car to stop before opening the door for Sherlock and Felicity. Sherlock ducked in first, then Felicity, and John brought up the rear. As soon as the door to the car closed, Felicity lost it.
She couldn't remember the last time she cried this hard and for this long. As soon as the horrible world she'd been stuck in for a week was cut off, every emotion, every bit of pain she'd felt came pouring out of her now that she finally trusted herself and the people around her. The sobs shook her whole body as she wept and wept, barely able to realize that Sherlock was rocking her in his lap, once in a while pressing a quick peck to the side of her head. It took her awhile to notice when she was in 221B. She couldn't remember getting out of the car and she couldn't remember ending up in the flat and in Sherlock's bed- her detective on one side and her doctor on the other. "Felicity, what can we do to help you?" John asked a few minutes after her sobs died down. He sounded strained as he gently rubbed her bony back, unaware that hidden under her clothes were deep and sensitive bruises.
"Just—don't go. Stay with me," Felicity begged in a whisper, curling up into a little ball. With Sherlock to her back and John to her front, Felicity drifted off in a haze of exhaustion and grief.
OoOoOoO
A/N: Blarg more whumpage on poor Felicity. Sorry about that...I thought it would be appropriate; I mean, her brother, her last living family member was just killed and then she had to go back to this shit school and get the shit beaten out of her...(then again, I did all that so I really must be evil. MUAHAHHAHAHAA!)But now the angst should be over, and your reward for waiting so patiently will be parental!Sherlock and John and some Johnlock goodness soon to come...ehehehehehheheeee!
You are all incredibly wonderful, by the way, and I hope your day is going fantastically well. :)
louisuperwholocked is the best beta in the entire fucking universe. Thank you for dealing with my weirdness, dear.