Orphan on Baker Street

Thirty Fifth: Chemo

"I've never seen you in here before," a smooth Scottish accent pulls me from my thoughts. I look over at the boy on my right. "What are you in for - not to make it sound like a prison," he includes politely.

"I have bone cancer," I reply softly.

"Where?"

"In my shoulder." I tap my right shoulder. "What about you?"

"I've got skin cancer. It terrified me when I first saw it; I had this really dark spot on my side, and it kept spreading. I thought it was some sort of mutated birthmark," he chuckles. I give him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say.

The boy just shakes his head. "It's fine... I'm, uh, Richard, but they call me Ricky," he gives me a small smile.

Unexpectedly, I laugh very loudly. I get a few glares before covering my mouth quickly. "Sorry," I whisper to him. "It's just- My name's Mickey," I grin at him. "We rhyme," I finish dumbly. He laughs sweetly, his smile reaching his eyes.

"Yeah, we do!" There's a small silence as we stare at each other for what feels like a very long time; it's probably just a few seconds.

"So, what do you usually do to pass the time?" I ask him casually, leaning on the arm of my chair.

"I bring crossword puzzles and books and stuff. Oh, and I've got my phone to listen to music. What about you?"

"Oh, uhm... It's my first time here, so I've only got one book," I tell him awkwardly. "What sort of music do you listen to?"

"Well, I'm into Avenged Sevenfold and Slipknot. But I don't like Slipknot's new stuff," he shakes his head slightly with a scowl. "I also make my own music on guitar."

"That's cool. I play the violin! But it isn't usually classical stuff; I do covers of other songs," I tell him shyly.

"Like that guy on Youtube!" Then he laughs. "That wasn't very specific, but I feel like you know who I'm talking about." I nod and laugh too.

"Yeah! He was my inspiration - DSharp [shoutout ily]."

"Ohh, DSharp! I wish my hair was like his. If I lose my hair from this, I'll probably get myself one of those reggae hats that has dreads attatched to them," Ricky smiles fondly at me.

"You're optimistic," I mutter softly.

"I can be..."

We go on like that for hours, just talking about our hobbies and our families - I was right about the waitress thing, but she doesn't have two jobs - and music and books. It's scary to think that soon, if this chemotherapy doesn't work, we might not be able to talk again.

Eventually, Sherlock walks in, and I give him a look of confusion.

"Mrs. Hudson has come down with what appears to be the flu," he tells me quickly as he pulls the IV from my arm.

"Shouldn't I call a nur-"

"There's no need for all that. Get your stuff. She mentioned something about ice cream," he sends me a quick wink.

"Umm, alright." I begin to move, sliding my bookmark into The Hobbit, and standing up. A nurse walks over and asks what's going on. Sherlock explains that he's picking me up.

I glance behind myself at Ricky, whose eyebrows are raised slightly.

"Is that your dad?" he whispers as Sherlock walks over to the desk.

"He's a family friend," I whisper back.

"Mickey," Sherlock says quickly and loudly, "what's your last name?"

I roll my eyes and walk over beside him. "It's Ronan."

"Really? I knew a Ronan. But he's in Ireland," he shares, flourishing his pen quickly across the paper. The nurse says her thanks as Sherlock walks away quickly. I thank the nurse in return and wave bye to Ricky. He waves back with a grin, and I grin too before rushing off after Sherlock.

I slide into the cab beside him, and the driver takes off.

"What an odd place to meet a boy," Sherlock mutters as he stares out the window.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there was clearly a connection between you two." He looks over at me, and I feel my face warm as I smile.

Then I frown. "I hope we don't end up like The Fault in Our Stars..."

"Isn't that a movie?" Sherlock inquires.

I nod, adding, "Based on a book." There's a short silence.

"I hope you don't end up like them either," he mutters quietly.