My eyes shot open and I looked up at the white ceiling. The sterile smell said I was in a hospital and I didn't like that one bit.
I sat up quickly and looked around. The room was empty except for the bed, two chairs that have recently been sat on judging by the impressions in the cheap cushions. A heartbeat monitor which I struggled to keep it steady as if I were still asleep. It didn't work though.
I heard murmured conversations fade in and out on the other side of the door.
I looked down and saw an IV in my arm. I yanked it out and gritted my teeth at the pain spreading from my shoulder and head. Apparently, bombs can hurt.
I heard footsteps approaching my door and I quickly hid my arm, that I had pulled the IV from, underneath the white blanket and laid back down. I closed my eyes just as the door opened.
I made my breathing deep and steady as the footsteps approached my bed.
I listened to the person's breathing as they sat down in the chair to my right.
"So, uh, I know you probably can't hear me but I just need someone to know this." John's voice made me relax slightly, knowing it wasn't some killer helped a bit.
"Well uh, the baby wasn't injured by the way. Sherlock had found it in the basement of the church and got it out before the bomb went off. And uh, the Priest is dead, obviously." John paused before continuing. "Well um, I'm glad that you're here. I mean, not here, but in London. Sherlock hasn't been so distant ever since you showed up. I guess he needed a reminder of when he was younger and more...human."
John's voice cracked at the end as if he were struggling to keep back tears.
"I know I haven't known you for long, but I'm really glad I met you." John cleared his throat. I felt his arms settle on the edge of my bed. His hand was placed on top of mine and he held it tightly.
I was rather surprised that John even thought of visiting me. I haven't ever had a real friend other than Sherlock and Mycroft. It was nice knowing that someone cared enough to come. Not even my parents came.
I heard the door click open and John's warm hand slipped out of mine quickly.
"Hey Sherlock." John said, trying to be cheerful but failed rather miserably.
"John." Sherlock greeted in a deep voice and I felt his presence on the left side of my bed.
I was starting to get antsy being in the same position for so long but I wanted to listen for a bit longer. Hear what they have to say while I'm supposedly knocked out.
I remained still and kept my breathing steady and slow. My heartbeat monitor was still a bit fast. I knew that Sherlock knew that I was awake. He wouldn't be that naive to miss that observation.
A silence filled the room but I knew they were both looking at me. My face was emotionless and relaxed as I lay there, pretending to sleep.
"When did you and Maggie become friends? I mean, I can see how since you're so alike but...you're not exactly the most social person in the world." John broke the silence.
Sherlock sighed slightly and i heard him sit down on the chair next to me.
"I protected her. Saved her life back in the eighth grade. She was always bullied for being smart and everyone made fun of her geeky little glasses. I noticed her a few times in the hall but never talked to her. She was in my chemistry class and got every question right. One day I was headed for chemistry and I saw her pinned against the locker and some girl was holding her there. I never did get her name but I heard from some random kid in the hall about how Maggie knew everything about the girl and she just went off on Maggie." Sherlock cleared his throat slightly. "Well I didn't want her to get hurt anymore and we soon became friends. Simple as that."
I was slightly surprised that Sherlock actually told John about that day when Kathy attacked me.
"It must've been hard for her. I can't see how it could've gone so far as an attempted murder. Maggie must've read her like a book." John chuckled shortly at the end of that. Admiration was clear in his voice.
I opened my eyes slightly, just enough to see through my eyelashes.
"I know you're awake, Maggie." Sherlock muttered.
I furrowed my eyebrows before opening my eyes fully. I saw Sherlock smirking down at me and John looking a bit embarrassed.
"So, what did I miss?" I smiled up at the two boys.
"Not much. You've only been out for six hours." Sherlock replied with a slight smile on his face.
"Six hours? How the bloody hell have I stayed in one place for so long?" I sat up quickly, making John jump a bit.
"Well you were in a bomb." John said.
I looked over at him and lifted the corners of my lips slightly. "I've been in much worse situations."
John's eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and settling into his chair again.
"Is that it? The only thing i missed was my attempted murder?" I asked.
"Yeah about that, how many times are people going to try to kill you and fail." Sherlock asked.
"Well if you weren't there with John, I'd be in much worse condition." I said loosing my excitement a bit.
Sherlock nodded before standing up and walking around my bed towards the door.
"Well I'm bored. John." He summoned for John as he opened the door.
John rolled his eyes before getting up.
"How long do you have to stay in this place?" He asked me.
"How should I know?" I smirked as I already made my deduction about that a while ago.
John raised an eyebrow expectantly at me.
I laughed slightly before answering, "Another week or so."
John smiled and nodded.
"John! Are you coming or not!" Sherlock's voice entered the room before his head popped out from the door frame.
"I'll see you soon, Maggie. I can't stand to be with Sherlock alone for a week anyway." John joked before following Sherlock out of the door.
I rolled my eyes. Like I was gonna stay here patiently for another week. Sometimes they can be so thick-skulled.
I stripped the sheets off of my body and stood up, sending a unnecessarily loud beeping into the air.
I winced at the pain in my ankle and started running out of the room. The hallways were rather easy to get through besides the three close calls I had.
I had found my clothes in a plastic bag and slipped them on in the restrooms. Now that I didn't stand out as an 'injured patient' I walked out the front doors and hailed a cab.
I heard commotion in the hospital as I quickly jumped into the cab and told the cabbie my flat address.
I found my wallet still tucked into my back pocket and paid the cabbie before stepping out into the rainy weather.
I hurried to the front door and pulled out my key. The door swung open and I jumped inside, escaping the rain that was beginning to fall.
I said a quick 'hello' to my land lady and continued up the steps. My shoulder was still hurting and my head felt heavy.
I collapsed on my couch and closed my eyes. I was more comfortable in my flat rather than those disgusting hospitals. I've never liked St.Bart's hospital. It reminded me of death and sickness and sadness. I hope I don't have to look at that building ever again.
I relaxed on my couch and sat alone with my thoughts.
The church kept showing up. The flames still licking up the white walls and the wooden benches collapsing to the ground.
I left my thoughts and opened my eyes. I glanced at my clock and 10:30 pm lit up in green letters.
I had been in my thoughts for an hour. Time really does fly by when you're alone.
I sat up slowly and gritted my teeth against the burning in my shoulder. It had gone down a bit but I needed ice.
I stood up and walked into my kitchen. The small room was empty other than a few cupboards, a sink, and a refrigerator.
I opened the door and looked for an icepack or something. The closest thing I had was a packet of frozen broccoli.
I placed it on my shoulder and let out a slow breath as it cooled the burning.
I heard my phone buzz and I walked over to the coffee table, where it sat.
I picked it up with my uninjured arm and held the makeshift icepack onto my shoulder with my chin.
I read the text.
I see you got bored already. Not surprising. -SH
I smirked and my fingers typed a reply.
At least I don't shoot walls. I just break out of hospitals with a messed up shoulder. -MJ
I clicked send and waited patiently for a response. Not thirty seconds later, my phone beeped.
Not your best idea by the way...which is why I would've done the same. -SH
Yeah. Does John know I'm not in the hospital? Wow, not everyday I get to ask that question. -MJ
Of course. I told him as soon as we got back to Baker Street. Speaking of which, I need you to take a look at some photos of a recent crime scene. -SH
Be there in 5. -MJ
I put my phone in my pocket and took the frozen broccoli off my shoulder. At least it wasn't swelling, that would be extremely annoying.
I slipped my trench coat on and headed out the door of my flat. I locked the door behind me and walked down the creaky staircase.
"Hello Margaret. Where are you headed now? Shouldn't you be in the hospital?" Mrs. Lancer badgered me with question.
"I'll be out for a while. I should be back soon it'll be like I was never gone." I reassured the older lady.
She nodded. "Alright, but remember, if you aren't back by tonight I'm calling you."
"Bye Mrs. Lancer." I called over my shoulder and walked out into the rainy street.
I hailed a cab quickly and gave the driver the address. It wasn't a far drive, in fact I could walk to Baker Street if I had to but I wasn't walking in this weather.
I sat back in the cab seat and felt my phone buzz. I pulled it out and read the text.
Had to run to Scotland Yard. Sherlock needs to talk with Lestrade about something. Mrs. Hudson should let you in.
-JW
I put my phone away without answering. I was close to the flat now.
The cabbie stopped in front of the flat and I paid the man. I climbed out and ran swiftly to the door to flat 221b Baker Street.
I knocked three times and Mrs. Hudson soon opened the door.
"Hello Margaret. The boys said you'd be by soon. They went out for a bit but they'll be back soon. Go ahead up and make yourself at home." She said and ushered me into the dry flat.
I walked up the stairs and into Sherlock and John's front room.
It was messy as always but I could at least see the floor. There was a cup of tea sitting on their kitchen table, still warm. John must've been dragged out by Sherlock before he could finish it.
I laughed slightly at the thought and turned around to look out the window.
Sherlock's violin was placed delicately on his stand with the bow laying in front of the instrument.
I remember playing a duet with my father when I was younger. He would play the piano and I played the violin.
I reached over for the violin and held it as if it were a fragile piece of art. It was still warm from when Sherlock must've been playing it before he ushered John out the door and left for Scotland Yard.
I placed it under my chin and held up the bow.
It felt so natural having this violin in my hands. It used to be mine before I gave it to Sherlock on the last day I saw him before now. I can't believe he kept it.
I placed the bow on the strings and started playing Canon in D. One of my absolute favorites. I always lost myself in the music. The way each note flowed perfectly into the next. The pure emotion that seemed to emanate from each note I played.
I closed my eyes and imagined my father sitting at the old piano, playing along with me. It was the only really good memory I had from my childhood. The only time I didn't have to worry about anything.
I listened closely to the music and hummed along with it. I knew every note by heart and hardly had to look at the strings to know where to place my bow next.
I opened my eyes and played the last note. I felt tears threaten to run down my cheeks but I held them back. I had no reason to cry.
I heard the floorboards creak behind me and I spun around. Mrs. Hudson stood at the doorway with Sherlock and John behind her. She held a fluffy white bath towel in her arms as she stood there.
I quickly put the violin down in it's original position and took a step away from it.
"Oh my word, that was beautiful sweetheart." Mrs. Hudson said with a smile growing on her lips.
John was smiling happily behind Mrs. Hudson. "When did you learn to play?" He asked.
"Just when I was little. It's been a long time." I replied before adding, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to touch your stuff, Sherlock."
Sherlock just remained silent and even I couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"Well um, I thought you might want a towel, dear. You looked a bit cold." Mrs. Hudson broke the awkward silence and held the fluffy towel out to me.
I gratefully took it and started drying my hair a bit.
"So what photos did you want me to look at?" I asked Sherlock.
He led me over to the kitchen table and pushed a small stack of photos towards me. I looked down at the first photo. It was of a man with short, dark hair and brown eyes that almost looked black. He was slim and wore a suit on his shoulders.
All of the pictures showed the same man in different places.
"Who is that?" I asked as I inspected the photos.
"Jim Moriarty." Sherlock replied darkly. I didn't recognize the name or the face of this man.
He was new...to me, at least.
🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎
👱 <--- Oh my gosh it's John!