Orphan on Baker Street

Seventeenth: Presents

Back at the flat, we sing John happy birthday and set presents around his feet. I nibble on a bite of my cake slice. Mrs. Hudson and I made it from scratch; it's not that bad.

When John goes to pull the tissue paper from a bag with confetti on it, a phone rings.

"Excuse me, I have to take this," Lestrade says as he stands. He answers the phone and greets the person on the other end as he steps outside of the door.

John just continues to open his present. He pulls out and unfolds a cozy-looking sweater. It has navy blue elbow pads set on a knitted cream background. "This is wonderful, Molly," he says with a grin, admiring the gift. "Thank you." They lean into each other for a half hug, and he kisses her on the cheek.

"Oh, save some for later," Mary jokes with an eyeroll. Everyone laughs - Sherlock just smiles - and I can't help but laugh, too.

John puts the jumper back in its bag and picks up a square box, about the size of that of a watch. Then Lestrade walks back in.

"Sorry everyone, but I have to be at the station right now. Enjoy the rest of your evening," he announces with a smile, taking his coat off the coat rack.

"Bye, Greg. It was nice to see you," John says happily.

"You too," Lestrade responds with a grin. Everyone else says bye, and there are some waves before he leaves. Sherlock and I exchange a glance.

John then continues to unwrap the present in his hand and opens the box to find a silver watch. It's set up like an expensive one but centered just under the axis of the hands is a small timer. I grin as John's jaw drops slightly.

"Mickey," he says with clear astonishment. "This is just brilliant."

"Yeah," is all I say to him, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Thanks," he says, and we half hug like he did with Molly. When he sits back down in his chair, he stares at it for a moment before turning around to Mary. "Do you mind getting scissors so we can get this out, dear?"

"Yeah. Sure," Mary says happily.

"Are you sure she can operate scissors after so much alcohol?" Mrs. Hudson asks genuinely. John just laughs.

"I told you he'd like it," Sherlock says into my ear softly. I look in the opposite direction and try not to smile. When I look back at John, he's busy cutting away at the bindings around his new watch.

By the end of the night - which is 10-ish - John has a new jumper, tie, watch, leather notebook, stationary and mug (from the baby).

"We should probably call the sitter," John tells a drunk Mary.

"I will. What should... what should I tell h-her?" Her words slur, and I smirk. When she burps, I laugh and run away downstairs to my own flat.

+

The next day, Mrs. Hudson tells me that Sherlock wants me to get ready to go to the station.

"And remember what he told you last night," she adds, glancing at me through the body-sized opening of my door. After a pause, she asks, "What did he tell you last night?"

"Oh, nothing," I say, swatting my hand slightly. "Just, um... some stuff about the psychological effects of crime solving on people my age." Good lie, Mickey.

"Is he worried about you?" she asks with a sad frown. I nod, trying to recreate her expression on my face before she leaves me to get dressed.

Remember what he said last night: be myself. That could only mean that I should get Lestrade's attention and use his weaknesses against him. I assess my victim in my head as I dress in a cream colored button up with a black collar and cuffs; a black leather skirt; black knee socks; and cream colored boots. I twirl my hair into a neat bun and wrap a spiked bracelet around it like a scrunchie. After a second glance at the mirror, I decide to leave my bangs hanging out on the sides.

The weather's warmer today, so I walk out of 221B with a bounce in my step. I don't have an exact plan on how to crush Greg, but I'm sure something along the way could give me some inspiration.

A closing door jerks me from my thoughts, and I spin on my heels. "Ready?" Sherlock stows away his keys in a coat pocket.

"You bet," I say with a small smirk. He winks at me.