The Swan Queen | Sherlock

Girls Night Out

    "It doesn't look too bad," observed Lauren. She had always been optimistic.

"It smells awful," replied Amanda, a pessimist.

"I agree to both," I said. The horrid smell of burning lingered in the air and filled my lungs. I craved to be outside breathing clean fresh air.

Firefighters deemed the structure safe, the building wouldn't collapse. She had survived the fire, but so much was lost and damaged. It was going to take a lot of time and a lot of money to repair.

"I'm just glad it wasn't us performing," said Amanda. She seemed to have forgotten, or at least, recovered from our ordeal and was happy to chat to me like friends again. I suppose disasters like this brings people together.

"It's a miracle nobody was killed," replied Lauren. "They say it was a man in the basement who discovered it and raised the alarm."

I had heard that too. Part of me hoped it was fake Paul Smith. Had I left him tied to the chair he may have burned to death. I liked to think my good conscience of freeing him meant, in turn, he saved the theatre from further damage. Perhaps one day I would see him again to ask him. Then again, I wasn't sure I wanted to see him or any of them ever again.

"I guess it could have been a lot worse," said Amanda.

Mark appeared on stage with a grim face. That had been his permanent expression since the fire. "I have news," he announced. "The surveyor reckons it's going to cost somewhere been 8-10 million to repair the damage."

There was a lot of gasps from the stage from my fellow dancers. We knew we had been summoned here today for bad news, but this was bad. The theatre didn't have that sort of money to spend, and despite this being my heart I knew Mycroft wouldn't be able to save it. Well played, Moriarty.

Mark continued. "But thankfully one of our patrons has decided to step up and fund it."

Everyone was whooping and celebrating, however, my heart skipped a beat. Mark was still talking, discussing plans and how long he thought the repairs would take. I had stopped listening. A patron was willing to pay 10 million to fix the theatre? Really? Really? There was only one patron I could think of with that kind of money to burn and who would be spiteful enough to do it.

So why burn the damn place down in the first place?!

The whole thing was a joke. A massive fuck you, Samantha Holmes. Moriarty had wanted to hurt me and he did it successfully. I cried watching the news as the theatre burned. Mycroft, who had seen the news, came straight over and watched me cry. I couldn't even tell him what had happened because Sherlock was there. My heart had been burned, well and truly, but it was recovering. Being here today and seeing the damage for myself helped a little. All was not lost. Our spirits were lifted. It was going to take a while before we were back performing on this smoke damaged stage, but thanks to the generous patron we would be one day.

I left the theatre to work a shift at the cafe. I lacked all motivation to be here, constantly checking the clock and counting down the hours till we closed. Kate had the same low energy as me. She put that down to it being Monday. I told her all about the theatre while she made us both a latte. Her coffees were the best, no doubt about it. I don't know how she did it, we all used the same machine, her coffees just tasted that bit better. She took her time, making them with love, while Simon and I churned them out as quick as we could, no love in it.

"Thanks," I said as she placed mine in front of me. The cafe was currently empty, so we took the opportunity to sit down and catch-up.

"So, how are you really doing?" she asked. "And don't tell me you're fine, because I can see that you're not. You've been missing your sparkle since Christmas, gal. I know what happened at your birthday must have been traumatic..." She paused. I felt myself grimace. "But I'm here, always. You can talk to me."