Life is but a Dream... (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

*The Blind Banker: Part Five*

Chapter Sixteen: Here For Who Knows How Long?

Somehow, I find myself aside John again at some mans desk, who wasn't Lestrade. When I asked John where he was, John just said,
"You've missed a lot, honey. Those glasses are a good look for you," joking a bit. I just rolled my eyes and told him to shut up.
"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat..." Sherlock began to the D.I. Murder, great. what a surprise.
It's so interesting how the doors were locked from the inside too, Sherlock.
"You've gotta admit, it's similar." John mentioned, as if reading my thoughts. "Both men killed by someone who can -- walk through walls." He added, hesitating a bit as the inspector scowled.

"Inspector, do you really think Van Coon was just another city suicide?" Sherlock questioned, making the man squirm in his seat. "You've seen the ballistics report, I suppose?" The man shook his head. "And the shot that killed him: was it from his own gun?"
"No." He murmured reluctantly. I had to give Sherlock credit. He was good at convincing others he's right. John and I watch him lean to tell him something, then come back, stating: "Five minutes in his flat."
* * *
I stop at the police tape as John and the inspector follow Sherlock. Because he can never leave me alone, John looked behind to see me.
"Come on, Aspen! Don't be afraid." He joked. My face froze with an emotion mixed with anger and sadness.
"I'm not afraid, John." I heard myself almost whine in a tone that took him by surprise. "I just don't want to go."
Releasing my fists from their clenched position, I saw John walk back down the steps, and hold out his hand.

"Come on, it's okay." He said, in a soft voice. He hasn't spoken to me like that since before he left for Afghanistan. Seeing as I had no other choice, I took it and we walked into the flat.
"...Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; they think they're impregnable." Sherlock's voice faded in, and we walked into him standing in the middle of a room. "They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in."
"Stay here." John said, leaving me at the threshold.

"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock told the confused inspector.
"What are you doing?" He asked as Sherlock hopped on a box to inspect a window.
"This is how he got in. He climbed along the side of the walls, ran along the roof, and dropped through this skylight." he explained.
"Cool." I mumbled, and saw Sherlock glance at me, then hop down, taking another look around the flat. "Are we done here?" I asked as he looked through one of the books that was scattered on the floor.
* * *
I don't know how I seem to be roped into this, but before I know it, we're on an escalator inside a library.
'At least it's somewhere interesting.' I thought as we got off. I wandered off to the aisle where all the old books were. Something about old books made me feel refreshed. How the vocabulary and dialect is outdated, and mostly how they look: aged and worn, like John. I chuckled at the thought, but didn't feel my mouth curve up. "Enough of this" I said to myself, and went to another section where Sherlock and John were.

I found them pulling out handfuls of books, ultimately stopping to look at the back of the shelf. Wanting to see what it was, I found a yellow Chinese symbol similar to the one from the bank.

Back at their flat, I feel my legs give way by the couch, and collapse in exhaust. Not long after do Sherlock and John come up and discuss the situation by their bulletin board of pictures and notes.
"Why did they die, Sherlock?" John asked softly.
My eyes start to droop as Sherlock says something I cannot make out, and then the sound of footsteps are heard.
"Come, Aspen." Sherlock snaps.
"Sherlock." John said, then the sound of Sherlock walking down the stairs was heard. I felt John stretch a blanket over me, then pat my head. "Go ahead and rest. We'll be back." He said, again in his soft voice. I felt him move my sleeve and air on my arm. After a sigh, he follows Sherlock. Before I fall asleep, I spotted the fine lines surrounded by red that he saw.
* * *
"You like that book, Aspen?" John asked in a store. I held the old novel with a white mask in front of a dark curtain.
"Yeah." I said, feeling the paperback.
He chuckled as he placed an arm around me and we walked to the line to check out.
"Thank you." I said as we walked out and into the rain.
"Anytime. Hey guess what." He mentioned. I looked up to meet his face.
"What?" I asked, when my phone rang. It was my mother.
"Uncle John." I whined, afraid she would be mad I took long with him at the store.
"It's okay, she won't be mad." He said.
That was the first time I felt he had lied to me. I was young then, and he hadn't told me of his decision to go overseas.

We sat down in a coffee shop, cold winter air blowing outside.
"Aspen..." He began in our booth.
"What?" I asked, afraid of what'd he say.
"I'm going away for a while. I don't know if I'm coming back." He said, them explained how he had volunteered to be a war doctor.
"You're leaving me with her?" I asked, my voice breaking. I could tell he was sorry for it, but I still started weeping on the spot. I couldn't believe he was leaving me with my mother. He was like the father I never had.
* * *
I woke with damp cheeks, and seeing Sherlock standing in front of the fireplace again, as if he never left. Wiping my face, a slam came from downstairs and upstairs John came. I buried my face in the black cushions as I felt him look at me, then start speaking with Sherlock.
"You took your time..." Sherlock started. I really felt my mind run a marathon right now, and got off the couch to gather my books.
"I'm just- just gonna go." I said, my voice cracking. I looked at them talking, and swallowing tears, I took my bag and walked out of the flat.