AN:
DeadlyThorn1997: Thank you sooo much. Your review made me smile for two days straight. :)) so thank you! :)
To answer your question: I thought she's about 15-17-ish, I don't really know. She can't be of full age yet (wouldn't get paid then), Sherlock and John are kinda her foster parents.
Thanks to everybody that reads my story, and thanks for the reviews.
Btw: That's gonna be on of the last chapters.
You don't fall asleep that night. You feel that burning pain rushing up and down the length of your left arm. You try not to hiss every time your hand collides with the thick blankets, focusing on Sherlock's deep and steady breaths next to you in the bed. Silent tears run down your face, but you don't care enough to wipe them away. All you wan to do is die., You want to push the blade inside your pulse, want to make it stop moving, want to stop breathing. You hold your breath, but mother-nature ruins your plans. Ans you catch desperately for air to fill your shriveled lungs. You continue starring at the darkened ceiling and wish for death to come like a starving would wish for food. Your eyelids get heavy as you finally fall into a short dreamless sleep.
When you wake up, the sun isn't fully risen yet, but the spot next to you is empty again. As if the last night never happened, wouldn't there be the bloody shirt on the floor and the bandages around your arm. "Dammit", you whisper into the silent room, you let yourself fall back into the cusions, face forward. Confused you state that your pillows are wet, it is then when you realize that you are crying. Angry with yourself you wipe the tears out of your face but they just keep coming, rolling down, and making wet, salty traces on your cheeks. Now even your sleeves are soaked in salt water and you feel even worse than before. For a second you contemplate cutting yourself, feeling the relieve and the relaxation in your whole body, but with a forceful head shake, get that idea out of your mind. You bury your head deeper into the soaked pillow. Heavy sobs make their way out of your throat only to get muffled by the soft fabric, your head is pressed in. A silent knock's coming from the other side of the room, you look up quickly and an ocean of blue worry meets red rimmed brown.
"Hello", blue eyes whisper.
"Hi", you say, not trusting your voice enough to say more.
Sherlock shuffles over to you and climbs into the tear soaked bed, next to you.
"Hey", he says soothingly wiping your tears away, that won't stop streaming down your sore cheeks.
"Dammit", you groan in displeasure. He chuckles lightly while pulling your face close to his chest. His stomach is trembling with laughter.
"Shut up", you snort against his slightly too tight white shirt, he was wearing the evening before. "You haven't changed." you muffle against the shirt, that smells of a hint of smoke and paradise.
"Yes, I...uhm", he stutters, you raise your head and look at him," Never thought, I get to see you speechless."
He gives you that smile that forms in his eyes, makes them shine in a thousand different shades of green and blue, pulls at his lips and forms wrinkles on his face.
"I", he continues,"I stayed here, overnight".
"Thanks", you whisper crawling back in his embrace.
Suddenly a wild John appeared, his hair ruffled and messed up. He enters the main door with a tablet with tea and cookies on it.
"Breakfast", he shouts with a big smile upon his face.
"Get over here, John" you say to him, making room on the double bed, for John and the tablet. You and Sherlock sit, with your backs against the bed's head, the tea-tray lying in front of you and at the other end of the bed there's John mimicking your position of crossed legs.
You spend the morning in bed with John and Sherlock beside you, sipping tea, and occasionally nibbling on a chocolate cookie. Their presence distracts you from the things that happened last night. But the white bandage across your arm is a big reminder of how unstable you truly are. The evening comes and the three of you were now lying in the bed, you in the middle. Popcorn gets passed between John and Sherlock while you watch some Disney Movies on John's Laptop(who's password is really that easy as Sherlock said).
As the two man are save asleep you crawl out of the bed, trying to keep the noise at a minimum. You get yourself a paper from the stack on your nightstand, and a blue pen, which is probably John's. You scribble at the page and try not to look at the sleeping men. Still you catch a last glance. You walk over to John who's hands are hanging outside the bed and nearly touching the floor. You give him a kiss on the cheek and freeze as he starts moving. You hold your breath but he quickly falls back asleep. You hastily search for the clothes that have to be lying around here somewhere. As you found them you quickly put them on and go to Sherlock's side. He is lying with his face in the pillows and lightly snoring. A smile crosses your face when you touch his cheek and give him too, a kiss on the cheek. You pull the blankets higher up on both, put the letter on the nightstand and get outside 221A. You quickly exit the main door, and are out on the street. It's around midnight and not many people are on the streets at that time, especially in winter.
You don't have to think about where you are going, your feet are walking all on their own towards St. Bartholomew's Hospital.