The Labyrinth of Fragile things

Chapter VII - Searching for a friend

As I looked at the caller ID a sigh escaped my mouth. "Mycroft, what is it? I don't have time for your menial cases."

"It's nice to hear your voice again, brother. Oh, I know you don't have time. You're all caught up with John's case, aren't you? You know I follow your every move when it comes to cases."

"Aside from adding no relevant news whatsoever, are you calling to tell me something important?"

"I'm just informing you of the other numerous cases that have arisen. The police could do with your help."

I hailed a cab as Mycroft was talking, telling the driver to take me to Baker street. "The police are always in need of my help. I have more important things to spend my time with."

"Yes... John, I know. Don't you think you're spending too much time on one case, Sherlock?"

I furrowed my eyebrows together. "I always finish one case at a time, you know that. Or have you become lazy when it comes to stalking me?"

Mycroft scoffed on the other end. "I'm just reminding you that caring isn't an advantage. You should try forgetting John. He may be beyond help now."

I was completely disgusted at this notion. It was John. How was he being so insensitive? Is this how others feel when I speak to them? I dismissed the thought. "Thank you, Mycroft for the ill advice. As always I won't be following it." I hung up and decided to enter my mind palace.

Mike told me that John had the aid of a friend. If I thought about what Mary told me about John taking an interest in my past, it would only make sense if this friend was also a friend of mine. But I don't have friends. John knows that. Perhaps they're just an acquaintance of mine, and John took it in the wrong context.

A list of people ran through my mind:

Mary Morstan

Mrs Hudson

Molly Hopper

Jacob Sowersby

F. Thompson

Harry Watson

Harriet Watson.

Mike had said that John recently got in touch with his sister. John being the hopeful person he is, probably thought that she sobered up (highly doubt it).

I searched my mind palace for information on miss Watson. Words like: alcoholic, low intelligence, Clare, and thirty eight years old, came to mind. Admittedly, I didn't know too much about her. John hardly ever spoke of her, usually ashamed of his older sister.

I searched John's blog once again, and tried to find as much information about her as possible. I found out that she was living in a town called Hubers.

"Excuse me, I'd like to change course. Take me to town called Huberes." I told the driver who had sat in silence for the whole ride. He craned his large neck, and gave a look that would of scared most people. Thankfully, I'm not most people.

"You said you wanted to go to Bake-"

"I know what I said, and I'm now asking you to take me to Hubers." He glared for a time, and then I realised that he actually wasn't going to say or do anything. Did he expect eye contact to make me hurry out of the cab and pay him? "And I suggest you start driving now if you want to make it home in time for the football match."

He stared at me, aghast.

He put his foot on the pedal and drove.