Nobody Knows My Heart Like You

Andrew West: Mycroft's Pip

Danielle never wore an orange safety vest before. She remembered seeing them in school- bus drivers or crossing guards, guiding kids along. There were some parents wearing them on career days. Even in the younger sorts of cartoons, Danielle saw those vests. The past few months she felt like she saw them every day around Sherlock and John. She wore that orange security blanket- really enjoyed that.

Today? She got to wear the vest itself. Danielle got really excited. The vest was disgusting, clearly worn from many workers over the course of god knows how long. It made her feel more important. Or like a kid playing dress-up. Danielle hadn't quite decided yet, but she knew she liked it.

John wore one too. Danielle walked by his side on the train tracks. He wasn't as excited by the idea of wearing an orange vest as Danielle. Maybe because he often wore medical scrubs, so he had different ways of looking and feeling like an adult. Danielle got less options for that- stuck with the boring options of paying bills or walking her dog. Nothing could bring her down right now. Not even the fact that all of this was because of Mycroft.

Sherlock went off to New Scotland Yard. He and Lestrade were trying to trace any leads from Miss Wenceslas. Danielle doubted they would get much. This Moriarty character was already going so far to cover his tracks.

(Danielle giggled, hopping off the rails to the dirt beside.)

They saved the little boy. Danielle cared much more about him being alive than anything else. Sherlock was also supposed to figure out how that boy connected back to Danielle's life. Lestrade would most likely tell her when Sherlock forgot on account of thinking Danielle would already know or shouldn't know.

The man leading them along the tracks eyed Danielle, confused by the glee. Danielle ignored the stare. She could handle it for the moment.

"So this is where West was found?" John asked the guard.

"Yeah." The guard answered.

John hummed. Danielle looked ahead. She couldn't see anything suspicious.

"You gonna be long?" The guard asked.

"Maybe?" Danielle replied.

"You two with the police, then?" The guard asked.

"Sort of." John replied.

The guard shook his head. Danielle walked ahead, kneeling down beside the tracks. She hadn't spotted any blood yet. Did they clean it up already? No, then Mycroft would've said something about crime scene photos. "I hate 'em." The guard complained.

"The police?" John asked.

"No. Jumpers." The guard explained. Danielle tugged on the sleeve of her jumper, rubbing the gray yarn against her skin. "People who chuck themselves in front of trains." He scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "Selfish bastards."

Danielle wanted to punch him. She also felt the urge to call her brother to schedule time for a hug. Or to punch the guard twice.

"Well, that's one way of looking at it." John stood beside Danielle, kneeling down.

Danielle hummed. "Definitely, yeah."

"I mean it. It's all right for them. It's over in a split second– strawberry jam all over the lines." The guard huffed. Danielle looked down on the tracks. The lack of 'strawberry jam' more noticeable than before. "What about the drivers, hmm? They've gotta live with it, haven't they?"

Danielle glanced up at John. "John, do you see it?"

"No." John turned to the guard. "Speaking of strawberry jam, there's no blood on the line. Has it been cleaned off?"