Falling Stars and Cigarettes

Pizza And Copper

            Living in a small flat with an antsy teenager who can't leave but hates to stay in one place is what Sherlock eventually deemed as torcher. With all of her regular emotions and hormones and angst added on top of the stress and frustration and heartbreak (due to Amber) she had now, she was becoming hell to deal with. At the moment, she was laying in her room, blasting some song about betrayal, and John was urging him to go and talk to her and Sherlock did not want to do emotions. He had been dealing with so many of those in the weeks that Sibley had returned, no, since the months that he first met her, and he didn't think he had the energy to do it again.

Still, he ended up outside the door, new lyrics floating through. Over the now male voice you could hear her feminine one singing, or shouting, really, over it.

It's better to burn than fade away

It's better to leave than be replaced

I'm losing baby, I'm not match

I'm going numb, I've been hijacked

If her sobs were any indication, she was connecting with the somewhat angry yet sorrowful yet desiring song. Sherlock had grown accustomed to the sound of this males voice and Sibley's squeals and excitement when it was on. Now, she was breaking apart in her bedroom, not even this 'Party! at the Dance Floor' or whatever was cheering her up.

"Sibley." he called, knocking on the door. There was no pause or flinch in her singing. She hadn't heard him.

So I damn your kiss and the awful things you do

Yeah you're worse than nicotine

"Sibley!" he said a bit louder. She still didn't reply. He pushed the door open slowly, giving her enough time to shout if she was indecent. She didn't. The only indication that she even realized Sherlock was entering the room was the significant lowering of the volume of her music. He looked at her, curled up in her bed, blue hair that had long since grown out leaving her with long, dark, roots, was a mess around her head, and her eyes were bloodshot. She sat up, a blank expression on her face, and just stared at him.

He felt bad, he really did. Being stuck here with barely anything to do meant she was often alone with her thoughts. He could only imagine was that must be like for her. He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe.

"What?" she asked. There was no malice behind it or even annoyance. It was more of a tired, careless, tone. He stood silently for a moment, thinking, before he knew what he was going to do.

"Come on. We're going out." he said, turning to walk out of the room. She stared after him in wide eyes but didn't argue as she scrambled off her bed and closed the door behind him so that she could change.

He was amazed at how quickly she came out looking nothing like the mess she had been only minutes before. Dressed in simple jeans and a purple jumper, blue hair curly and lacking the amount of frizz it had before. Her makeup covered the bags that had plagued her features and somehow she had washed the bloodshot look out of her eyes and the redness of her nose. She looked normal and fine. Not like someone who had been spending most of her time crying and waking up screaming during the night.

"Where are we going?" she asked, pulling on a leather jacket.

"Yeah, last time I checked Sibley was to stay here," John said, crossing his arms as he exited the living room.

"She'll be fine. She'll be with us." Sherlock said. He pulled on his belstaff and ran down the stairs, Sibley close behind. John sighed, rolling his eyes, and grabbed his gun before following.

~~~

Sibley loved churros. The Cinnamon, gooey, goodness, gave her life. She moaned happily as she took another bite. Sherlock was watching her with amusement clear on his features.

"Seriously, Dad, try one," she insisted, sliding the small paper tray in his direction. He made a face at the object in front of him.

"I have no interest in putting that in my body, thanks." he said. She just snickered and continued to snack. The noise of the arcade was comforting. It meant she wasn't alone and she wasn't still in 221B. She loved the different environment, even if it did smell like pizza and copper.

She was so busy watching a particular girl quickly and intensely playing on of the games that she didn't notice when an envelope was dropped in front of Sherlock. He looked up but the person had already disappeared in the crowd. He stood up, knowing Sibley was safe with John who she was now discussing the other girls strategy with, and walked outside. He opened up the envelope to find a piece of paper embroidered in gold.

Princess Run Away

Loves to play

But she left the game

Before the flame

But it's okay she had to run

There's still a chance to have some fun

Princess, the game has begun

Sherlock shoved the paper in his coat before walking back into the arcade and towards his daughter.

"Time to go home." he ordered. She nodded and stood, not ready to go back to the flat but also not wanting to argue with him after he gave her an escape for a little while. So, she stood up, throwing her trash away and grabbing her things. Before Sherlock could do anything she wrapped her arms around him.

"Thanks." she muttered. Then she let go and walked outside.

~~~

Sibley had become a light sleeper as of late. Paranoia making it hard to not jolt awake at the slightest sound. It was well placed paranoia as when she woke up this time, she really was in danger. Arms pulled her into him, hand going over her mouth and nose. She began to struggle and try to scream but the man holding her was making even breathing difficult.

"Shh, Princess. Wouldn't want to wake Daddy now, would we?" he whispered. Terror gripped her insides. He had gotten her. He had somehow gotten in and now he had her.

"He thinks he can protect you. He's asleep outside your room now. Too bad you won't be here when he wakes up," Moriarty growled. She began to cry and the lack of breathing slowly made her head go light and her eyesight go blurry before she passed out.