Peter and Kyna

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"Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of continuation, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not. "

― C.G. Jung

Kyna's POV:

Sleep is such a wonderful thing and it would have been more wondrous if I had gotten even an hour's worth the past few days. Instead, I was vacuous and I stayed up... thinking about a case.

Honestly, I hadn't expected it to be this intriguing.

After our scare with Molly, she was hospitalised and put on medication. John was stuck at work and Sherlock was at St Bart's, analyzing Molly's DNA.

After a great deal of arguing, and shouting- mostly from Mrs Hudson- they agreed that I wasn't allowed to assist Sherlock with cases any more. ("It's too dangerous!") In fact, I was grounded... for life.

So I sat, in the arm chair, painting my nails and running every possible conclusion for the missing body through my head. No such luck. I'd thought of every humanly possible theory with no breakthrough. My agitation resulted in a broken polish bottle.

"It's not your fault." Mrs Hudson explained as she cleaned up my mess because I had absolutely refused to.

"I'm not functioning properly." I told her, twisting my fingers together. "I can't do normal things anymore. I'm trying to think too hard."

"Why don't you just take a nap, dear? I'm sure that will calm you down."

I reluctantly agreed, and while Mrs Hudson left to go grocery shopping, I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed, ignoring the thoughts that sprung up all around me.


"Kyna, Kyna wake up."

I bolted upright, knocking foreheads with someone.

"Ouch!" They exclaimed.

"Wiggins?" My voice sounded thick from sleep. I cleared my throat.

Yeah," he sat back, rubbing his head and grinning.

"You've got a really hard face."

I smacked him with one of the pillows.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to drop off something for Sherlock... but he's at that hospital place and... I can't go in there."

I didn't try to make sense of what he'd said. I was still computing the situation. Suddenly chills ran up my bare back.

"Get out!" I shrieked, realizing something. Wiggins looked shocked. He jumped off my bed and took a couple steps back.


"I'm in my pants... get OUT!"

He didn't wait to see if I was telling the truth. He ran. I would have laughed if this hadn't been the most awkward thing to ever happen to me.

I groaned and fell back onto my back. I knew my face was bright red.

"Dammit." I hissed, pressing my hand to my forehead. "Just, perfect."

"Kyna?" He knocked politely on my door.

"Almost ready!" I called, leaping out of bed, my bare feet padding on the cold floor. I dumped an entire suitcase out to rifle through it.

Finally I pulled a sweater and leggings out and threw them on. I tried to detangle my hair but ended up losing the comb in it. I growled in frustration and gave up.

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