You watch the taxi as it turns around the corner hundred feet away from your current position. Turning around, looking at the old and dirty-brown door, your heart skips a beat. You breath in and out very slowly to make your heart stop thumping against your chest bone. You quickly look at Sherlock, who's rattling with a key.
"No! You didn't!" you scream, not a single shiver in your voice as you angrily stare at him.
"Catch", he simply orders and throws the keys towards you. You could have easily caught them, but you just let them crash loudly on the ground, in the mud of your front yard. The whole tiny garden was filled with waste and pieces of used cigarets.
The ambiance here didn't match that from the rest of the fancy looking street. The only reason your step-father can afford such high living standards, is that he gets a lot of money from the State for taking care of you, which he obviously doesn't. If he wouldn't have been the only relative that had wanted you, he would probably sleep in a box under a bridge of the Themes or would already be dead.
The houses around yours look all fancy and tied up, there and than you can hear children laughing and squeaking like piglets. You can even hear people contemplating about the weather. Thick gray clouds hang down deep, everything seemed like it'll rain anytime soon.
You press yourself deeper into the fabric of the loose fitting jacket, and look over to Sherlock, with his dark coat and blue, thick scarf. You take a step, to where the key fell down, bend your knees and grab it with your tiny, shaking fingers out of the mud.
Cleaning the key and your hands on your jeans you walk closer to the place, next to the door, where Sherlock is standing, since we arrived. Sherlock looks bored and shifts from one leg to another.
You give him a death glare and put the key into the lock. Your hands are shaking so heavy you have to retry to put the key correctly into the lock about three times. You get mad at yourself from behaving so childish and anxious. You form your hands into fists and breath in again, to calm yourself down.
Again you put the key towards the lock. This time you succeed to get the key in properly, with a last glance towards Sherlock, you slowly turn the key around. Before you push open the creaking door you wish that Lazarus is sleeping out his constant hangover or is simply to drugged to notice. Holding your breath you slowly but determined open the door.