"No one? Not a single person?"
"Nope. We've searched the whole of England and not a soul recognized her face. Since she seems to have American lineage, we also sent her information to the FBI in the States, but they haven't got a single hit, either," Lestrade explains.
"Well, someone has to know her," I say. "She can't just be nobody."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
We make our way back into the hospital room. It's been two weeks since we first met this girl and she still can't remember a thing. And with nothing for him to deduce, Sherlock's been quite bored and not at all helpful. He just sits and sulks in the corner reading a forensic journal.
"Bored."
"I really don't care, Sherlock."
"Have any news?" our mystery girl asks.
"Unfortunately not," I reply. "But don't worry, we'll keep trying, uh..." I pause. "It seems a little impersonal to not call you by a name, doesn't it?" She nods. "Lestrade? Where did you say you found her again?"
"Out cold over on Abbey Road."
"Well, how about that then? Can we call you Abbey for now?"
For the first time in the last couple weeks, she smiles. "Well, I guess Abbey's as good a name as any."
"Good, good. Well Abbey, Sherlock and I are going to go grab some take-out. Would you like anything?"
"No, thanks."
"Okay. Sherlock, here. Now."
He glares up at me, with what looks to be an insult forming on his tongue, but he must have decided against it because he gets up and follows me out of the room. We meet Lestrade out there.
"Lestrade, be honest. Why did you call us here? I mean, I want to figure out what happened to this girl just as much as everyone else, but this doesn't really scream foul play to me. Am I missing something?"
"Normally, I would agree with you, John. But we ran a few blood tests and found a foreign substance floating around. It doesn't look dangerous, per say, but we can't identify it either," he explains.
Suddenly, Sherlock looks up with an excited look on his features.
"Well, Lestrade, since you insist on me attending all of your excruciatingly tedious sessions with 'Abbey', I think the very least you and your team of squabbling idiots can do is let me examine the substance you found in the girl's blood."
"Please. It might be the only way to shut him the hell up," I plead.
"Fine. But once you discover what it is, I'm the first one to know. Got it?"
"Well, of course, Lestrade," Sherlock replies with a mischievous smile. "Come on, John. We've got work to do."
"You can't be serious."
"It's a hospital, John. They need the rooms for the people who are in critical need of them."
"Well, where is she supposed to go? We haven't even located her family yet!" I'm starting to become a little annoyed.
Lestrade looks at me with a truly apologetic face. "I was hoping maybe she could stay with you."
"No."
"Shut up, Sherlock."
Though she insists on being able to do it herself, I help Abbey up the seventeen steps to the flat. We make it to the door, and I hesitantly open it, wondering what she'll think when she looks inside.
"Wow. This place is... Interesting."
"Better than what most people say," I chuckle.
"Is that a real sku-"
"Trust me, let's not go there."
Sherlock stills seems fairly angry with me, but I can't bring myself to care. This girl needs a place to stay, and though our flat is probably not the best option, it's the only one we have. He glares at me for a few more moments before disappearing into his room, slamming the door behind him.
"Don't worry. He'll get over it. Now, are you hungry?"
A/N: Sorry I lied. I know this is actually shorter than my last update. But this fic is still sorta in the set-up stage. It'll get better. I'm also extremely tired.
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