The Thieving Magpie

Chapter VIII: Fresh air

The night was long and heavy for (y/n). She spent it next the Jim's hospital bed, most of the time awake, looking after him. Even after the doctors said he was going to be okay, she still stayed. He looked so peaceful. His big brown eyes shut, his chest slowly rising up and down. No grin, no deadly and fuming glare. Just a boy resting, recovering.

The medical room they were in was huge, and had a whole wall made of glass. They had the chance to enjoy the beautiful view of the foggy city of London. Well, (y/n) had, anyway.

The girl was awake when the blinding sun rose up in the morning. She stood up from her confortable chair, staring down at Jim. She had plenty of time to think during the night, and she took a decision. She was still confused and slightly lost, but at least she knew where she was going next.

She took a deep breath, quickly checked the man's vitals one last time. His heart was beating normally, and everything was stable, so she exited the room. She didn't touch him, didn't squeeze his hand or kissed his forehead.

She just left.

>——>

Her room felt so big and so empty now. She didn't really feel home anymore, it was weird. Her bag was ready. She had some of her clothes, some money, and her passeport. A soft knock on the door snapped her away from her thoughts.

"Come in.", she mumbled.

She turned her head towards the door, and a tall slender man was there to meet her. His look was serious, but gentle at the same time.

"Hey.", Sebastian said, his British accent floating in the air. He leaned on the doorframe.

(Y/n) nodded and responded hesitantly.

"Do, um... Do you need something?"

He swallowed.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing."

His eyes flickered down to her bag laying on the bed, then back up to the girl's (e/c) eyes.

"You're leaving?", he asked, stepping forward, closer to (y/n). She nodded and sighed, looking back at the case, breaking eye contact from Sebastian.

"Yeah. I, um, I need some fresh air."

He hummed. He now stood right next to her, his arm brushed hers.

"Where are you going?"

"In Ontario, Canada. His name's Connor, he's an old friend..."

She tried to pull away, but the sniper placed his large hand on her arm and pulled her back. He wasn't rough or too firm, but soft, almost pleading.

"Sebastian-"

He pressed his lips against hers. Their eyes both fluttered shut, but when he tried to deepen the kiss, the girl put her hand in his chest and calmly pushed him away.

"Please."

He let go of her. He opened his eyes again without looking at her, and she did too. He turned away and they stood awkwardly, staring at the floor.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I just-", he sighed. "... I'm sorry."

"What happened that night... It-It was just a kiss. We just came back from a stressful mission, and, we both thought we were going to die-" she stopped herself. "Look, it wasn't serious, okay, I-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"... It's fine.", she shrugged.

She took a glance at him, and she saw him run a hand through his short gingerly blond hair. She blinked, and looked back at her bag.

"I need to go, now. A-a cab is waiting for me."

She walked over to the bed and grabbed the bag, and then went to the room's door. But Sebastian interrupted her though, before she could leave.

"(Y/n), wait."

She turned around and faced him, and stared in each other eyes for a few seconds.

"Be safe."

She swallowed and nodded.

"I will. You... you take care of him, okay?", her voice shook a bit.

He nodded too.

Neither of them said anything else, and after the last glance they shared at each other, he left.

>——>

"So, London International Airport, right ma'am?", the cab driver asked.

The (h/c) haired girl was looking at the window, sitting comfortably in the back seat of the vehicle.

"Actually, before we go there, I'd like to stop somewhere."

"Sure. What's the address?"

She looked at the front mirror and made eye contact with the aging driver.

"221b Baker Street."

>——>

The famous consulting detective growled loudly has he ruffled his brown locks and slumped back into his chair, his robe twirling. He joined his fingertips and they rested under his noise, on his mouth. He stared into nothing, frustratedly thinking.

His friend, sitting in front of him, looked up from the newspaper he was reading to gaze at the taller man. Seeing his state, he put the paper down on his lap.

"What is it?", John sighed.

"Her.", Sherlock grumbled.

The doctor frowned.

"And, who's 'her'?"

Holmes' long arm stretched out and pointed to the wall, on his left.

"Her! Bram (l/n)'s sister!"

His extended arm came back and his hand was on his mouth again.

"Obviously.", he added.

"Yeah, what about her?", John replied.

Sherlock's eyes snapped back at John's, looked at him for few seconds. He then rolled them and let out an exasperated grunt.

He got up and started pacing in the living room.

"I need to find her.", the detective said slowly.

"Okay, because...", John replied, uncertain.

"Because, I need to know who she is, how she is, what she does, anything! If I want to find who killed Bram."

"Oh, alright, I see..." Watson exaggeratedly nodded, laid the newspaper on a small table next to his armchair. He got up, and went to grab his coat. "Well, I just remembered that, we're almost out of milk. I'll go buy some. Why don't you... think a bit, while I'm gone."

Sherlock hummed, and the doctor went out of the flat, the sound of the closing door echoing behind him.

The tall man suddenly stopped walking, and turned his head to look at the photo of the mysterious sister.

'Who are you... Why can't I find you...?"

He broke his gaze away from the picture, and shook his curly hair again.

He had to go out today. A new case Lestrade has asked Sherlock to help him for. The detective went to his room, thinking he could at least do the effort to put trousers and a shirt on.

>——>

"Here we are, ma'am. Want me to wait?"

"Yes. I won't take long."

With that, the criminal opened the cab's door, and stepped out, staring at the dark blue painted door in front of her.

>——>