I Can't Stand You Sherlock

Chapter 5: A Pound For A Life Part 2

I woke up with the sun pouring into my room. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep again. Last night was crazy. We didn't get home till late because Sherlock insisted in going to get a drink with me but it was awkward. We just sat there in silence as we both drank. It was like he was trying to make amends in a weird sort of Sherlock way. I didn't like it. If he would not be direct with me like I knew he was with everyone else, I would not be direct with him. When we finally got home, it had to be close to one.

After about laying in bed for about another 30 minutes, I realized I would not go back to sleep, so I rolled out of bed and walked over to my desk where my paper was laying with a pencil next to it. I didn't get anymore facts since the hospital and I wasn't sure where to turn next.

I walked out of my room and into the main living room to see books lying all over the floor.

"What the hell happened here?" I asked as I saw Sherlock lying on the couch with a book in his hands. I was sure a little hung over, but he didn't seem to be affected by the drinks from the past night.

"Did you know why he talked little about his family?" Sherlock asked me, not taking his eyes off his book.

"No, didn't ask," I said and shook my head as I looked at one book on the ground. It was about fake identities and how to make them. If he wanted to know how to make them, he should have asked me, oh wait, I wouldn't have told him anyhow. How did he even get a book about that? "Did you even sleep last night?"

"I am on the verge of something, Rori. He didn't talk about his family because he had a different identity. He isn't Cedric." He shot up with a grin on his face, then jumped off the couch and ran over to the computer where a young boy with a cute smile was on the screen. "Luke Welfore, this is the man, this is who died. The facts match up, the age, where he's from, everything. His other identity is almost perfect, but not."

It shocked me he found that information.

"Why you ask would he have a fake identity, why do you have one?" he continued, as if reading my mind.

I looked at him with a frown and I'm sure I had a dumbfounded look on my face as well. No one knew I had a fake identity, mine was flawless. I should know, I made it. How did he know if everyone else thought that Maire Brennan was dead? On the records it says she was dead. I killed her myself and out of the ashes rose Rori Anderson.

Before I could respond sharply, he said, "Because he's running from something. How hard is it to make an identity?"

I didn't say anything back to him. I was mad at him about knowing that I wasn't who I said I was. I was furious that he was accusing that I was running from something. The nerve he had. How easy was I to read to him? Almost no one knew these things but in a matter of a few days he had already uncovered one of my secrets. If he knew how many other people knew? Would he tell anyone? It didn't matter if what he was saying was true or not, I was about to slap the smug look on his face. I had to make it known that I had boundaries and he couldn't dig up my past without some kind of payment. I could feel my face turning red at him.

"I'm sure it's hard and expensive. He grew up in a poor part of London. He worked hard but what if he didn't work hard enough. What if he had help? What If he had help from the wrong places? he would want to get away from that fast. What if he didn't pay back all of it?"

I knew he was talking about Cedric, but a part of me felt like he was still attacking me. "Oi, shut it," I spat out, letting my Irish accent show, then turned back into my room, slamming my door behind me. I couldn't believe that he figured out part of my past in a matter of a day. This was a sign to me that living with him would never work. By time the three years were over, he would know all of my secrets.