I wasn't the type of girl to cry aimlessly over a breakup. I didn't sit on the couch and eat ice cream while sobbing over some dreadful romantic film.
No, instead, I turned my stereo up to deafening proportions and found Sherlock's secret cigarette stash. Honestly, it was so obviously hidden. I'm surprised John hadn't found it yet.
So after the adults had left for work, I filled my bedroom with the smell of smoke and bourbon, and I drowned out my emotion with music.
I had just finished waxing my legs, when there was a knock on my door.
"Fuck off," I called.
"Now, certainly there is a more polite way to say that," Irene announced herself, not waiting for my permission to come in. Neither of us seemed fazed by the fact that one of us was only in our undergarments.
She looked gorgeous in a gray peplum skirt and an emerald blouse. Her heels were velvet.
"You look like a goddess." I frowned.
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the only one. I approve of your attire."
I glanced down in question.
"Anyway," she continued. "I'm here to take you shopping."
"What for?" I asked.
"For me. I'm bored and you are as well. So let's go do something... fun."
We had different ideas of what fun meant.
"I'm not sure I want to," I told her.
"I'm your godmother."
I laughed. "The concept terrifies me."
"Don't be prude," She chided.
"I don't really like shopping," I explained.
"Well that's irrelevant." She clasped her hands together. "We can gossip about boys and flirt with the cashiers."
"That doesn't really sound like much fun," I told her, turning away to finish my makeup.
"Please, I want to buy you clothes." She pouted.
I rolled my eyes. "I have enough already."
She looked around my room at the suitcases by the bed and the clothes laying on the floor.
"I guess we should buy some bureaus then."
"That's not what I meant!"
She was laughing and I couldn't help but smile.
"Come along, Miss Holmes. I think we are going to have a delightful time."
We bought three dressers, a full-length mirror, two picture frames, new sheets, curtains, and, of course, clothes.
After an enumerating amount of shops and stores, we paused for a moment at a coffee shop just off the corner of Baker Street.
I was starting to enjoy Irene's company.
"The man to your left is staring at you," I told her quietly. Her eyes glittered.
"It's a shame I'm off of work," She pouted. "Let's play a game."
I agreed and she looked carefully around the shop.
"Him," She finally said, nodding in the direction of a young man in a scarf and glasses.
"Two younger sisters and divorced parents." I murmured. "Allergies and asthma. A book eater."
"Impressive." Her eyebrow arched. "Now do her." I looked over to where she was pointing.
YOU ARE READING
Consulting Daughter (BBC Sherlock)Fanfiction
Kyna Jocelyn Graham is unusually talented and intelligent, much to her mother's unending and embarrassing horror. For sixteen years Kyna's mother has been desperately trying to stamp out any traces of the man who is her father. But she is unsuccess...