You Can't Choose Your Friends

Ordinary people

I change into a Beaver Island sweat shirt that was blue and white. I had gotten it from the hardware store near the candle section a few years back. I accidentally got the medium for adults rather than kids, so it fit me perfectly now. My grey sweats were soft and clean against my newly refreshed leg. I wore a tank top under my sweater, not bothering to put an actual shirt over it. I had put my hair into a braid after showering and now it was all wavy. I looked like a sick teenager that's trying to convince her parents to let her go to a totally sick party.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." I nod when she bustles into my room. I remember that she is Mrs. Turners friend. "You should give your old friend, Mrs. Turner, a call. She'll love to chat with you." I grab a jacket and wrap it around myself to block out the chilly London air. Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf and follows me out. We walk down for a block or two in silence. It begins to snow lightly.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice sounding a little fragile. I clear my throat and ask again, but it just comes out a fragile as the last time.

"I have come to the conclusion that you should not be alone for too long. You get kidnapped a lot." Sherlock shrugs, ignoring my brokenness.

"I do, don't I?" I agree, "Why did I even come to this god damned place? I don't even know if I'm in London or Reichenbach or some other town or city or country." I give a resigned sigh, "I should've payed more attention in geography."

"Hm?" Sherlock raises his eyebrow, "Oh, school." He shakes his head, "I've deleted most of that out of my mind place. Useless information." I laugh.

"It is. I mean, why the hell does it matter- aw, never mind. You don't care." I look away, biting my lip and trying not to act like a wounded deer. Sherlock doesn't answer and when we wind up back at the hospital, he doesn't enter with me. Sherlock continues walking. I shrug, thinking that he needed some alone time, and head up to my brothers room. Ten minutes later, Sherlock is back at my side.

"You didn't follow." He sounded indifferent, but I know he's hurt.

"I didn't think you wanted me to." I stand, "Anyways, I need to talk to my brother. Alone, if you don't mind." My glare was directed to all the guards around my brother.

"You really think it's a good idea?" Sherlock scoffs, "There is, erm, a certain person who always seems to find his way to you."

"I'm fine being alone for a week hours, Sherlock." I roll my eyes, "I'm not a child." I slam the door after shoving them all out (which was more of giving them a cold stare and pointing out the door, given my lack of social skills) and turn to my brother. "Can you believe my life?" I give a resigned laugh, "Kidnapped one day, claimed the next. Maybe I'll finally die on Tuesday, who the hell knows!" My small laugh turns into tears, "You'd know what to do." I grab his arm, "so... I don't mean to rush you. It's a difficult choice... but do you mind hurrying up. I want to be there for you if you wake up but I don't want to be around if you don't."

"That's not the best thing to say to a dying person." Someone scolds from the corner. My brothers heart rate goes up a bit an I have to stroke his arm to calm him down. I whip around to face James.

"Screw you." I slap him, "Stay the hell away from my brother."

"Oh, Alley." James fakes a hurt face, "I thought you liked me."

"I hate you. I hate your face. I hate your whole existence. In fact, I should kill you right now." I take a syringe from a table and pull it back. I turn to James, who laughs and shrugs.

"What are you going to do? Syringe me?" He laughs. I stick the needle into his arm and push it down. Moriarty falls to the ground, clutching his heart. I calmly stare at him for a few minutes before walking over to the door and calling for a nurse. The reel him out of there as fast as they can. I turn to my brother. I swear to god, he's smirking at me.