Chapter 5: Riding Along

May 31st. The day before Emmaline's sixteenth birthday. It was four o'clock in the afternoon on the wonderful Wednesday, and she was sipping a tea of warm coffee and highlighting her English textbook, waiting for Sherlock to arrive at the café.

She grabbed her blue highlighter and passed it over a large section, re-reading as she went. She had not seen Sherlock in a few days as he had called to say he would be busy with a case. She had known the man for about a month now. She said 'know', when really she knew almost nothing about him.

They rarely talked about anything personal, and never anything about him. Apart from his deductions. His deductions and his brain were the only personal topics on which he encroached.

Emma tapped her pen against the wooden table, starting a rhythm, as she thought about the passage she had just read.

"Are you going to do that all day?" Sherlock asked from behind her.

Emma jumped in her seat and dropped the pen, her heart kick starting. As soon as she saw who it was, she slowly willed her body to calm itself down. It is not a stranger. It is just Sherlock.

"No." She said, brushing hair out of her eyes.

Sherlock did not reply. Instead, he removed his coat and sat down neatly across from her, spreading his own folders across the table.

"Is that your new case?" She asked interestedly.

"Yes; not very interesting. A six at the most." His voice trailed off as he looked down at the papers and pictures.

Emma rolled her eyes and turned back to her own work. She had learned not to ask how his scale worked for fear he would actually explain it. She quickly finished her English notes and put the book away, dragging out her biology homework. It was all she had left to do and then she could look at what Sherlock was doing.

She had not yet seen him bring actual casework to the café. A few times, he had brought recorded accounts of crimes and he had flipped through them, mumbling to himself while making notes. When she had asked about the numbers he had written next to each case, he had told her it was his rating scale – cases rated one through ten.

"I only get out of bed for something above a 7." He had told her, before turning back to his work.

Emmaline thought it would be quite intriguing to see him do actual work with the police since she had only ever heard him talk about it. Just as she was starting on her biology worksheet, Sherlock's phone went off.

He pulled it from his pocket and gave it a quick glance before a maniacal gleam entered his eye.

"What?" Emma asked, looking up from her homework.

"Detective Inspector Trevor has just informed me that there has been another break-in which requires my attention."

"Oh, alright then." Emma turned up the corners of her mouth into a smile before looking back down at her homework.

She could see Sherlock stand up and gather his papers, and put on his coat. She saw him step around the table and start for the door. She assumed that he had left.

"Emmaline, would you like to come along?" He asked uncertainly.

While not in his nature, it seemed wrong to leave the young girl here by herself, no matter how close it was to her flat. Besides, he had noticed her peeking at the folders. He knew she was eager to see what he did. Moreover, being able to show off in front of anyone was a treat for Sherlock.

"You want me to come along to a crime scene?" Emma asked hesitantly.

"A fresh eye is always…good." Sherlock finished lamely.

"Well then yes, I would."

Emma smiled brightly and packed up her school things. She hefted the bag over her shoulder and together they walked outside and Sherlock hailed a cab.

Sitting in the cramped space was slightly uncomfortable, with Emma bouncing with excitement and Sherlock trying to refrain from telling her to stop. Within twenty minutes they were at the scene.

Stepping out of the cab, Emma realized that she had no idea where they were. She was completely dependent on Sherlock to be able to remember her existence and get her back home safely. I should really think things through better, she thought to herself.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes." An officer greeted Sherlock disdainfully.

"Detective Inspector Trevor." Sherlock acknowledged him just as icily, if not more so. "Where is Detective Lestrade?"

"In the house." Trevor pointed impatiently behind him.

Emmaline took in his haggard appearance. He was a gray-haired man, going bald in some spots, and wearing a very ill-fitting suit. His pale complexion read to her as if he was ill.

"Wait a moment – who is this?" Trevor barked when Emmaline tried to walk past the tape with Sherlock.

Sherlock glanced shortly at her. "She is a University student; she is shadowing me for a paper."

The Detective Inspector looked about to protest but Sherlock waved her forward impatiently. They were greeted in the doorway by a graying man, tan and fit-looking.

"Who is she really Sherlock?" The man asked.

Emma's mouth had gone dry at the sight of the younger – but still too old for her – detective. He should have his own TV show, she thought.

"She is a student." Sherlock insisted.

"I'm his friend." Emmaline fixed her bag strap. "Emmaline Johnson."

"Oh, well." The man looked taken aback at her word choice.

Sherlock himself was giving her a strange, surprised look out of the corner of his eye. He did not have…friends.

The good-looking man took a step forward and held his hand out. Emma hitched in her breath and stepped back, clutching her bag in front of her.

"No, no, don't do that." Sherlock told him. "She doesn't like male initiated contact."

The man held his hands up and took the step back. "Sorry – did not know. I'm Detective Lestrade, just wanted a hand-shake."

"Right, sorry." Emmaline fixed her bag and held her hand out for Lestrade to shake.

"Well, now that we have got that out of the way, would you like to entertain us Sherlock?" Lestrade asked a friendly smile on his face.

Sherlock did not notice; he had already stepped further into the home. Emma decided that by the way they had acted around each other Lestrade was fond of Sherlock, unlike DI Trevor.

"You'll be pleased to know that this is related to the other two break-ins." Sherlock commented, bending over to examine an area rug.

Emma watched as he moved gracefully about the flat, getting close to things to examine them before quickly moving on. He reminded her of a jungle cat in the forest, looking for prey. In Sherlock's case, his prey was clues.

"So friend, huh? How long have you known Sherlock?" Lestrade asked curiously, folding his arms and turning his attention to Emmaline.

"Almost a month now." Her brow knitted as she watched Sherlock bend down to examine dust patterns on a coffee table. "Is he always like this? Strange, I mean." Emma asked.

"Yes." Lestrade rotated to see what Sherlock was doing. "Find anything?" He called to the consulting detective.

"More of the same." Sherlock huffed, standing up straight.

Lestrade shook his head and turned his attention back to Emmaline.

"Are you really a student?" He asked with an observant eye.

"I guess. I'm in high school."

"What?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"Oh yeah – secondary school. Forgot I am not in America."

"How old are you?" Lestrade asked carefully, subtly turning his head to glare at Sherlock.

"Fifteen. I will be sixteen tomorrow." Emma answered proudly, as if her birthday were an achievement.

Lestrade's eyebrows shot straight into his graying hairline. He turned fully to face Sherlock.

"You are hanging out with a fifteen year old girl?" Lestrade continued, appalled. "What in the bloody hell are you thinking?" He turned to face Emma. "And you, what the hell has your mother got to say about this?"

"No, no, don't mention the mother either." Sherlock warned, coming up behind Lestrade, taking his gloves off.

Emma's hand came up to cover her eyes as tears sprung to them. It had been days since she had thought about her mother and now she felt guilty. She turned and rushed past other officers, racing down the front steps of the house and outside.

Lestrade turned to Sherlock, his hands thrown up in the air. "What did I say?"

Emma ducked under the crime-scene tape and started walking down the street, paying no attention to her surroundings. She was in an urban area, with flats and shops and cinemas. Down the corner, she could see one large church. Emma choked out a sob and ran for the church, ducking inside.

There were few inside, and most seemed caught in their own prayer as no service was going on. Emmaline was glad to see that it was a Catholic church – her usual place of worship. Her mother had not been a religious fanatic but they had caught the occasional sermon.

Emmaline had always believed in a higher power, she just did not very often express it. She rushed to the front of the church and grabbed for the box of matches near the candles. With shaky hands, she lit a candle for her mother. She shook out the match and leaned back.

She bowed her head and brought her hands up in the prayer position.

I am so sorry Mom. I have not thought of you in a few days it is just…I have been so busy and I feel awful for saying that. This is a lovely church to talk to you in…much better than the foot of my bed. I miss you so much mommy. I still look under my bed every night, as you told me to. And he is not there. He is gone, I think for good. My birthday is tomorrow. I packed the present you had gotten me. I found it in your room, under the bed. Emma chuckled; her mother was always buying presents early and hiding them.

I have already told you about the man that I met, Sherlock. He is very strange. He seems very sad and lonely. I have known him for a month now and I still feel like I do not know him at all. I think…I think he is afraid. However, I do not know of what. Today he took me to a crime scene with him. Thanks for listening to that wish mommy. He is good at what he does – I wish you could see him work.

I have to go now mommy, but I will talk to you tonight, OK? I love you mommy. I will always be your little Emma-bear. I love you.

Emma stood up gingerly from the floor and walked down the aisle, wiping her eyes. She always felt marginally better after talking to her mother. Stepping outside into the sunlight, she turned her head to the left. Sherlock was slipping something clear into his pocket when he turned at the opening church door.

The man standing next to him quickly shuffled off. Emmaline stared curiously after him for a moment before directing her attention to Sherlock.

"You followed." She waited for a reply but did not get one. "And you waited."

"I do have to get you home." Sherlock reminded her.

"Right." Emma fixed her bag strap.

"Let's go. A few blocks from here we can hail a taxi quite easily." Sherlock started walking down the street, expecting Emmaline to follow.

"So what did you find out at the house?" Emma asked after a few moments silence.

Sherlock rifled through his coat before replying. "The same evidence as the other two – dust disturbed, footprints, stolen items. And a fingerprint."

"A fingerprint?"

"That is not in the least bit exciting; that pegs it down to at least a four." He replied in a bored tone.

Triumphantly he finally pulled a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. He lit it and put the white stick between his tips, allowing it to hang there while he pocketed the lighter.

"You smoke?" Emmaline asked surprised.

She had never seen him smoke, nor had she picked up the smell from him.

"I started two days ago, so it is a rather new habit."

Emma watched as he took a long drag on the cigarette before breathing out the white smoke.

"You know it is really bad for you." She said looking slightly disgustedly at his euphoric expression.

As she was now used to, he chose not to reply. He flung his arm out and hailed a cab, opening the door for her. The drive was filled with silence, Emma thinking about her mother and her birthday the next day. Sherlock was wondering when his next puzzle would come along. His hand came to rest gently on the small bottle of morphine in his coat pocket. If worse came to worse he would have to take another dose and forget his puzzles. Now that this case was practically solved, they no longer needed him. This left his mind open to boredom, and as a result, other things. He patted his pocket once before resting his hand on his knee.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Emma asked, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at her curiously. They always met after her school hours in the café; it was routine now. Sherlock cocked his head slightly at the curious thought: it was routine now. So this little girl was part of his every day routine? The thought that someone had gotten him to change something, his daily activities, and it had taken him this long to notice it, was slightly unsettling.

"I am going out to dinner with my grandparents so I won't be at the café tomorrow. Do you want to meet up somewhere else?" She asked as the cab stopped a few houses down from her flat.

"Call me when you are finished with dinner, and I will tell you a place." His mouth seemed to speak of its own accord.

"OK." She grabbed her bag and stepped out of the cab. She shouldered her bag before leaning down to look in the window. "Thanks for today Sherlock. I had fun."

She gave him a soft smile before straightening and walking away down the street. Sherlock gave the cabbie his address on Montagu Street and leaned his head back, paying the outside world no attention.

She had called him her 'friend'. Why would she go and do some silly thing like that, unless she meant it? Sherlock found a light smile touching his lips. Never in his life had he had a friend before. No one could ever find enough patience to be around him. They always found him insufferable and annoying. Sherlock blocked the awful memories that tried to filter through at the thought.

One of the terrible things about having a brain such as his: he never forgot. And his tormentors would be hard to forget. They were one of the reasons he had left University without a degree, besides his awful professors and restless mind.

No; she did not act like a bully. Maybe, Sherlock thought, she was acting like a friend.

Damaged people gravitate towards Damaged people ~~ Norman Reedus

A/N: I just thought that quote was a really beautiful way to end the chapter even though neither of our characters are thinking it. Please review, I love reading the comments! Please?