General Disclaimer

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.

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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 comfortable with.

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.

THE END