by Alicia (aisumitsukai at home.com)
Gah! I'm on a fanfic roll!
Sequel to the untitled one I just posted. (Editor's Note:
"Milk, No Sugar".) This
ended up being more H/L-y then I wanted it to, but whatever. I love
Wiggins, he's such a sweety.
The night is incredibly cold. Sometimes I wonder about my
decision to cut the sleeves off my jacket. Wrapping my scarf
around my neck once more, I bow my head and keep walking. After
all, the night can't get much worse.
I'm not sure where exactly I'm planning on going. Jaycee dumped
me for some jock from the south and it's not like I can go
home. Maybe Mr.Holmes and Watson will let me spend the night.
I kick a pebble into the street. They have no right to say
things like that. Sure, I never got along well with my parents,
but where they got this load of zed is beyond me.
Just because I sell club passes and cheap watches for some
extra money doesn't mean I'm a crack addict who needs to be
rehabilitated. And Jaycee is not some easy alcoholic. And they
wonder why I don't spend more time with the family? Maybe if I
had a real family... not just a couple of so-called adults who
made a mistake on prom night.
Mr. Holmes' light is still on. They won't mind. Watson'll
probably give me dinner too. They're more of a family than my
parents. Kind of ironic -- a dead detective, a robot, a crazy
Yardie and two street rats make a better family then two
well-educated lawyers. Shows what society knows.
I climb the stairs and knock on the door. Watson opens it. He
blinks at me, surprised, before pulling the door wide open and
letting me in. He smiles.
The Inspector is already there. She's got a towel around her
shoulders and is munching cookies. Mr. Holmes smiles at her, when
she isn't looking. Despite what Deidre says (I think that's just
her crush talking), I think he cares about her more then he feels
I sit beside the Inspector on the couch. She gives me a
conspiritorial smile, puts the plate of cookies into my lap and
drapes the slightly damp towel onto my shoulders. I smile my
thanks. The towel is warm from her body heat. I wonder if she
ever had a little brother. Would she want one?
Holmes gives me a cup of tea. Two spoons of sugar, no milk. He
looks at Lestrade while giving it to me. She's looking at Watson,
returning with another towel. I sigh. I hate to see my family
hurt each other with their love.
Back to the prequel,
"Milk, No Sugar"
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