Chapter 8

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes."

-William Shakespeare "Macbeth"

October turned into November, bringing with it cold, grey skies and icy rains. Everleigh had done well to keep to herself, still reeling from the embarrassment her last outbreak had caused. She had not seen or spoken to Sherlock, she wasn't sure she would ever want to again. John had kept in contact with her, but she'd refused any outings with him. What on Earth did they think about her now? John thought she was some broken little china doll and Sherlock, well he most likely thought she was just a psychopath. The anger and the sadness she felt from that day still lay buried deep within her, crawling out from the crevices in the dead of night and the lonely, unending days. Time seemed to be moving slower, every agonizing second bringing her deeper and deeper into the bottomless pit of despair. Her phone was constantly plagued by calls from unknown numbers, her nights haunted by nightmares and her heart ridden with loneliness, the only thing seemingly keeping her going was her job. Work had provided a steady sense of responsibility and normalcy, something Everleigh desperately needed. Sam brought his infectious cheerfulness, while Lisa brought compassion, but there was still something missing. Her flat was lonely, her bed cold, it did nothing for her growing sense of melancholy.

She pushed herself through the motions, wake up, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast then off to work. She took one last look around her flat. Perfectly organized and clean, it was almost creepy. Loneliness wasn't becoming. As she opened her door to the blustering morning winds a small brown envelope on her door stoop caught her eye. As she bent down to pick it up, she felt her heart stammering in her chest. It was too early for the post to be delivered; it didn't have any writing on it, no addresses, no stamp, just a plain, brown envelope. Her hands shook as she picked it up off of her damp welcome mat, last night's rain soaking into the thin cardboard making it heavier than what it would normally be. With trembling fingers she broke the seal and carefully tore the flap open, the torn edges sharp on her numbing fingers.

"What on Earth?" Ev whispered as she dumped the contents of the mystery envelope into her open palm.

Her heart stopped when she saw what fell into her hands. Three wallet sized photos of her scattered onto her outstretched fingers, school photos from primary school. She felt her breakfast rising into her throat, only her grandparents had those photos and they certainly weren't sent from them. She screamed as she felt the gentle vibration of her phone in her pocket. Her fingers didn't work properly as she pulled it from her pocket, tears brimming her delicate eyes; she peered at the lit screen, BLOCKED NUMBER. Damn it, she wanted to throw that blasted phone into the road and watch it explode into a thousand tiny pieces. What was going on? Blocked calls, unmarked packages containing old photographs of her, who's ever idea of a joke this was it was getting very old very quickly.

She turned the photographs over and noticed her grandmother's handwriting on each one, Everleigh Rose and the year from which the photo had been taken. Her heart sank into her stomach as the thought of her poor, sweet grandparents hurt or in trouble crossed into her mind. Her fingers raced across her now still and silent phone, dialing their number. It rang, and rang, and rang before finally, relief.

"Hello?" Ev's grandmother sounded sweetly from the other line.

"Nana? Are you and Pop all right?" Everleigh asked, trying to hide the franticness of her voice.

"Yes of course dear, why wouldn't we be?"

"Just, uh, just making sure."
"You sound terrible dear, it this about Hannah and Tom, because you know we didn't condone that to begin with-"
"No, I'm fine. I have to go to work, just checking in."

"Oh, well all right dear. Come and visit soon."
"Of course, bye Nana, love you."

Ev hung up the phone before hearing her grandmother bade her goodbye, her cheeks growing hot again at the mention of her cousin's pending nuptials, which then brought back the flooding memory of her awful behavior to John and Sherlock that day. She'd almost completely forgotten about the photos in her hand in her intensifying rage. Everywhere she went everyone she talked to was an unrelenting reminder of her solitary existence. When had living become so hard? She remembered a time where the days blurred by, her life a whirlwind of laughter, music and lovely evenings spent in better company. Now, it was as if she could see each grain of sand falling from one end of the hourglass to the other with a deafening boom, fear dulling the colors around her.

The smooth paper against her fingertips snapped her from her angry reminiscing, replacing it with unhindered fear. She desperately wanted to call on someone, anyone to help her, but she knew no one. Except for John. John would know what to do, but the embarrassment held steady and she placed her phone back into her pocket along with the photos. Sherlock could help, she thought as she locked her front door, checking it three times before turning and walking to her car, quickly banishing him from her thoughts.

Work made the day pass quickly, there was no shortage of patients which Everleigh was thankful for, but it didn't compare to the gratefulness she felt as she walked out of the doors into the cold, biting night pulling a carton of cigarettes from her pocket. She couldn't wait to get to her car, she needed her fix immediately. With jolting speed she pulled one out and lit it when as soon as she was far enough away from the building. God, there was nothing better in the world at the moment than a good, hearty drag of smoke.

"Ev! Hey! Everleigh!" a jubilant voice called out from behind her.

John Watson came to stand beside her, out of breath from jogging. She felt an immense happiness bubble up into her chest to see him, but also a crippling fear. She had no idea what he viewed her as now, what judgments had passed through his mind and lips after their last encounter and it scared her. John's was a friendship she didn't want to lose under any circumstances.

"Hey, how are you? I hadn't heard from you in awhile, just wanted to make sure you were all right," he continued after he'd caught his breath, his eyes full of sincerity.

"Fine," she answered abruptly.

"You look awful. What's happened? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Long day."

She knew it was useless; she always wore her emotions outright on her face, very much lacking the ability to disguise herself. No doubt the fear she felt inside was etched into every delicate feature. Her heart screamed at her to tell John what had happened earlier that morning, wanting someone to confide in, to help her, but her head told her no. The last thing she needed was to look more helpless in the eyes of John and Sherlock, who John would no doubt tell all about her little problem in hopes he would help. That was out of the question. She could never see Sherlock Holmes again, her cheeks burned scarlet just at the thought of another encounter with him. She thought back to their last meeting. She remembered the look in his eyes as he'd stared deep into her own. Their sadness, their vulnerability, Ev felt as if he might have been suffering worse than she was, only he was much more proficient at hiding it. The more she thought of him the more she realized just how much she longed to be around him again deep down in her heart, she wanted to wrap herself in the embrace of his arms he would never give and let her soul mingle with his. Their mutual sorrow had been silently spoken between the pair, an unspoken bond begun.

"I know something's the matter. I can tell by that look on your face," John told her sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Defeat had settled in, Everleigh knew when the efforts to avoid a subject weren't worth using, and this was one of them. She couldn't force herself to say the words, not wanting to face the very horror of what had become her reality. The only thing she could muster up the courage to do was reach into her pocket to remove the three photographs she had received that morning. Without making an eye contact she held her evidence up to John who took the three photos and looked at them curiously.

"Is this you?" he asked, confusion coating his usual happy tone.

"Yes," Ev croaked out.

"I don't understand. Primary school photos can be bad I guess…"

"They were on my front doorstep this morning in an unmarked package."

"Oh. Yeah that can be strange."

"A bit."

"And you don't know who they're from?"

"No."

"We should talk to Sherlock."

"No!"

Her heart hammered against her ribs at the mention of his name. John looked over at her puzzled, not sure why she would so adamantly refuse help from his friend. Sure he could be a real ass, patronizing, condescending. Ok, maybe he could see why, but he truly was the most clever and intelligent man John had ever met and he could most certainly help her. The only question remaining, would he?

"Just, come on. If anyone can help it's him. Wouldn't you like to get all this sorted out and get on with living?" John asked, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think he'll want to help me," Ev confessed, why would he?

"Sure he will. Just come down to the flat and talk to him. He's not as unreasonable as people think. All right, maybe he is, but he'll help you."

Again, accepting defeat, she agreed. Her nerves ran rampant as she handed John he car keys, allowing him to drive them to the flat he shared with Sherlock on Baker Street. Scenarios floated through Everleigh's mind as John maneuvered the streets of London. Sherlock being angry John had brought her to their home, Sherlock disgusted when he saw her, Sherlock not even acknowledging her presence when her and John walked in. Each thought worse than the last, all of them ending in disaster. She began rehearsing exactly what she was going to say to him, knowing full well she lost the ability to speak when he was around. She would keep it brief and to the point, but descriptive enough to hopefully catch his interest. Yes, this would be easy, right?

John parked the car beside the curb around the block from their flat. Everleigh felt the butterflies begin their flight in her stomach as they walked through the bitter night air to the wooden black door with a gold 221B labeling it. John fiddled with his keys, his numbing fingers making it difficult to pick the correct one off of the ring, finally getting the door open. A blast of warm air surrounded the pair as they stepped into the building. John led Ev up a slight of wooden stairs to a landing with a door wide open, the sounds of a violin wafting out of the flat. The song was beautiful and enchanting, all the anxiety Everleigh felt slowly dissolved at the perfect notes that floated in to her ears. Both her and John rounded the corner into the flat. The first thing Everleigh saw was Sherlock standing in front of the window, a violin perched between his chin and shoulder, long fingers moving the bow gracefully across the strings. The tune continued as John put his keys on a table and took his coat off, Sherlock seeming not to care about his flat mate's arrival. He had on a white button down shirt with his usual slacks, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. She was completely transfixed by him. All of her worries were forgotten as his song surrounded her mind and his tall, strong stature kept her eyes frozen. She felt light and free the longer the three sat in silence, she wished for the moment to end, but of course it had to.

Sherlock turned as he took his violin off of his shoulder, eyes locking onto Everleigh standing in his doorway. He froze, what was she doing here? She looked frightened, tired, but better than she had the last time he'd seen her. Her hair was windblown, some of it twisted and clipped behind her ear. The sight of her always caused a slight stirring in his abdomen. She looked quite lovely as she stood nervously by the door.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked, knowing if she were here he would be too.

"Here," John called out from the kitchen.

"What is she doing here?"

"She may have a case for you."

Sherlock's eyes snapped back over to her, softening as he stared at her, "What is it?"

Attempting to muster all the courage she had practiced she rediscovered her ability speak, "I think I have a stalker."

"Boring."

"Sherlock!" John yelled from the kitchen, poking his head around the doorway, his face pulled down into an angry scowl.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "What?"

Everleigh watched the silent exchange between the two men, John scolding Sherlock with his eyes and urging him to be polite and help while Sherlock looked on in annoyance.

"Fine. There's a place down the road. Dinner?" Sherlock asked, turning his eyes back to Ev, making her breath hitch in her throat.

A/N: Thank you guys for being so patient! Life went crazy these past few weeks, but the good news is I wrote out 90% of Chapter 9 before I wrote this one so it should be out tomorrow or Monday! And it's my favorite so far! This one was a necessary plot builder, not at all my best but it does its job.

Thank you to breathewithme, indescribablemusic and Julia for reviews! Yes! We find out who is calling her, well Sherlock does ;) Every review means so much to me!

So, guys, I got tickets to see Benedict on Jimmy Kimmel on Wednesday! I'm so beyond excited, so the next update may take a little longer because I'll be in LA a few days next week!

I'm looking for a good Loki fanfic, if anyone knows of any please let me know!

Thanks for reading/following/favorites! Please review :-)