Shadows of the Past (BBC Sherlock) -1-

29. Fact or Fiction?

It didn't take long for John and I to get the DNA test arranged. We'd gotten it done two days after we decided we wanted to go through with it. Now all we had to do was wait for the results to be mailed.

So, as you could imagine, I continued to stay with John.

After all the time I'd been staying with him, never once did I ever pay for the hospitality I was given. I would definitely have to before I left for Maryland. I couldn't leave London, and John, without repaying him for putting up with me all these months.

Three weeks had passed since John and I decided to test Sherlock's father-daughter theory. John didn't seem affected by waiting for so long compared to me. Each day that passed, I was eager and worried. What if the results had gotten mailed to the wrong place? What if someone stole our mail because they were dumb bastards who had nothing better to do?

John and I found ways to make the days go by. He went back to work from time to time while I went out. I could tell something about his job made John happier when I'd see him come home. It was hard to put my finger on it.

It was another dreary day in London, but today felt different, like something was going to happen. Today has to be the day. It's got to be. Since I was in good spirits, I decided to head out and treat myself to a day of getting lost in London. At least I knew the address to the apartment so I could tell a taxi driver to send me home.

I dressed in warm colors today, in dark jeans and a black sweater. The sweater didn't reflect the mood I was in, but my hair sure did. I'd decided to curl it, giving my bland, straight hair a new look for a day. When I'd looked at myself in the mirror, I looked like a bubbly girl. I'd thought I'd lost that girl when coming to London.

Maybe I was getting her back.

I made sure to lock up, as John had left for work as I was getting a shower. For once, I didn't feel paranoid, worried that someone was hiding behind another house, ready to pounce and nab me.

I hadn't realized how long it had been since I'd really toured London. I wasn't hitting any major hotspots, just ambling down the sidewalks, examining the buildings. I didn't go into any stores since nothing stood out to me.

By the time lunch came around, my legs were begging me to rest. I complied with them, settling in at a nice place. I was pretty sure I picked the same café that I had gone to when Sherlock and John had been hunting down those kidnapped children.

I'd settled for outdoor seating, like last time. The weather was decent, not too chilly to make the outdoors intolerable. People casually walked by, going on about their daily lives. I pursed my lips, wondering how Sherlock could deduce people so quickly. I guess that had to come with being a psychopath—no, wait, a high-functioning sociopath. I knew he would never let me forget it if I said it out loud.

Once my salad came, I went to work on my iPod, connecting to the wifi the café had. I searched through Google News, seeing if anything major was happening back home. Nothing seemed to be. There weren't any articles on the suicide of Sherlock Holmes, and if there were, they were buried under other news stories.

Quickly deciding to get off of world news, I quickly went back to the search engine and tried to find a reliable source that gave me some British slang terms. I was still in England, so why not, right? Of course, it was difficult to find a site so reliable. Maybe I was better off finding the nearest bookstore and finding a dictionary.

I pulled my eyes away from the eye-numbing screen. From the corner of my eye, I swore I saw a black trench coat nonchalantly pass by me. My eyes followed the coat, only to realize I was being silly. The hair color didn't match. It wasn't dark, mussed, and wavy, like his had been.