Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Three: The Return of an Idiotic Genius

CHAPTER THREE: THE RETURN OF AN IDIOTIC GENIUS

 She was back at Baker Street. She was amazed by the fact that it hadn’t changed at all since she’d first arrived here; the chips around the lock were still visible, and the knocker hung crooked; everything looked the same. Amelia could almost imagine Sherlock upstairs, playing his violin as loudly as possible, and John putting on the kettle for three. In reality, Sherlock’s violin was packed away, untouched, and John had moved in with Mary. There were no body parts in the fridge, nor would the sofa smell of cigarettes. In essence, 221B Baker Street had become a normal flat.

And Amelia despised it with a fiery passion.

After all the things they had gone through together, this sense of normality was perplexing, and almost painful. It was empty, and regulated, never veering off path, and never spontaneous. Her life before the fall had been predictably unpredictable; it was guaranteed to have an unknown adventure coming the trio’s way, and they’d have to struggle to make it out unscathed.

Sherlock hadn’t made it out unscathed.

Somehow, Amelia’s feet led her to the door. She raised her hand, and knocked twice. Mrs Hudson answered almost immediately. “Hi,” Amelia said with a slight tilt of her head. “May I come in?”

The elderly woman looked as if she was both outraged, and relieved to have her old tenant back at Baker Street. “Amelia…” she said, hand to her mouth. “I didn’t think you’d be coming back after what happened with Mycroft.”

Amelia shuffled her feet. “I’m uh…I’m not coming back. I came to say goodbye, actually. I needed to get a few things before I leave for New York tomorrow.”

Mrs Hudson’s hopeful face fell. “You’re welcome to stay the night, Amelia.”

“Mrs Hudson, I don’t exactly think that’s a good idea. Mycroft will be worried sick.”

“I certain that he’s got one of those fancy aeroplanes of his own. Please, Amelia. Just one night.”

Amelia swallowed, looking away for a moment. “One night, but only because you were a fantastic landlady.”

Mrs Hudson grinned, and ushered Amelia in. Amelia glanced around, taking in her surroundings. Her Belstaff hung on its hook alongside her hat, and while both had collected a thin sheen of dust, it was as if nothing had changed. That wasn’t true, not really; everything had changed. Neither John nor Amelia were the same as they once were. John’s limp was back again, Amelia had gone cold; it was as if Sherlock had never entered their lives in the first place. Their lives had been shattered, and hastily put back together, while they lived under the pretence that all was well.

Amelia took a seat, Mrs Hudson setting a cup of tea before her. “I’m not your mother, Amelia.” the landlady started.

She blew on her tea. “Thank heavens for that.”

“But one phone call would have sufficed.” Mrs Hudson said. “Just one. After what happened with Mycroft…after everything that we’ve gone through.”

Amelia set the tea back down, running her tongue over her lips. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone.”

“It’s difficult for you, I know.” Mrs Hudson said kindly, placing her hand atop hers. “Even if you hate them, you still miss them when they’re gone. It’s like some part of you is missing, isn’t it? You’ve become so used to their company, and then they’re just…gone.”

She looked down at the table. “It just got harder, and harder to pick up the phone, y’know?” Amelia said. She clapped her hands together, “So, how’s it with the fellows? Meet any good ones?”