Life is but a Dream... (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

*The Blind Banker: Part Seven*

Chapter Eighteen: Two For The Road

I must have fallen asleep, because the next place I open my eyes by is the bench in the locker room of the hospital. A pat on my head tells me Molly is with me as I roll on my back and sit up.
"Hey penny." She said.
I gave her a look as I sat on the bench. "What was that for? Why didn't you leave me there?" I questioned.
"It was getting cold, and you needed rest. You've been working more than usual since you've been with Sherlock and John." Molly explained.
I was too tired to argue with her, so I stayed silent.
"Are you hungry?" She asked, standing to put on her white lab coat. What's with her and eating?
"No, but I'll go to get food with you, I guess." I said, rubbing my eyes.

Even though I wasn't hungry, I took a pint of milk as she was staring at pork or pasta in tin cases.
"Gross." I muttered, as she pondered on what to get.
"What're you thinking? Pork or the pasta?" I heard someone ask. I looked up to see Sherlock standing beside Molly, who jumps in surprise.
"Oh it's you!" She exclaimed. As they discussed eating methods I bought my milk, then strutted over to see Sherlock pulling puppy eyes on her. "Could you wheel them out for me?" Even though I didn't know who they were talking about, I know what he's doing.
"No. No don't fall for that, Molly. She already did the paper work for them." I said as she had a hesitant look.

After a while, Sherlock shifts the conversation, pointing to her hair. "You changed your hair." He said.
"What?" We both asked, as I opened the milk. Our tones seemed to contrast: hers was nervous and mine was confused, if there's a difference.
"The style. It's usually parted in the middle." he explained.
"It's good um- it's suits you well."
* * *
"Just do it, Aspen." Molly said as I snapped on the latex gloves. Sherlock and his detective friend walk in as she opens the first bag to reveal the face of Brian Lukis.
"We're just interested in the feet." Sherlock assured.
"The feet?" Molly asked as I raised my eyebrow.
"Yes do you mind if we look at the feet?" He asked.
She looked at me, as if telling and wondering why they'd request such thing. I sighed, shook my head, and unzipped the bag at the feet, revealing almost paper-white soles inked with a black tattoo at a heel.

"Now Van Coon." Sherlock said, with a smug look on his face. I glanced at Molly, who is looking at Sherlock. 'Okay, I'll do it.' I thought, heading to the bottom of the other bag, and unzipping it. Same as Lukis: the inked heel.
"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaving the inspector with an annoyed look. "So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or I'm telling the truth."

"What do you want?" His friend said in a sigh.
"I want every book from Lukis' and Van Coons apartment." Sherlock ordered.
"Their books?" He asked, them took a moment of silence before making a call outside.
"And you," Sherlock started, pointing his black leather gloved hand at me, "come with me."
* * *
I found that me and Johns roles were switched: I sat by Sherlock, and he rode in front.
"How long were you at the graveyard?" He asked, breaking the silence.
It would end up embarrassing me, but I asked anyway, "how would you know I was there?"
"Your hair, face, and clothes. Hair: well obviously you've been sleeping on the floor, not just the floor of the hospital but on solid earth. Of course, not solid because there are traces of dirt and leaf deposit scattered about that you haven't bothered to notice to clean up. Face: with the small amount of makeup you wear, there is a slight discolouration around the bottoms of your eyelids, so you've been crying. Also the amount of sleep you got at Baker Street wasn't enough, so like I said you fell asleep at the graveyard and so the bags under your eyes have gone down. Now, clothes: much like your hair, there are signs of dirt and mud sediment, along with some traces of mud from the rain. To top it off, your father is dead, apparently so again, I'll ask how long were you at the graveyard?" Sherlock mindlessly babbled.
Amidst his speech I was fixing my hair, half listening, and trying to ignore his question.
"It's not important." I said as the cab pulled up to 221.

* * *

I plop down on the couch, eyeing my homework that I still haven't finished as Sherlock and John walk in. John mimics me with his chair, but Sherlock still stands, speaking of a criminal organisation.
"Soo Lin said the name." John added.
"Yes, Shan. General Shan."
"We're still no closer to finding them."
"We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces." Sherlock ended, leaving his words hanging s if expecting John to say something. "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?" He begins to explain, and his tone impatient. They then go into a conversation about some Black Lotus. It's then I feel my phone buzz. Oh my god it's midnight, and I have school tomorrow. There was a number with a message of:

Hello? Is this Aspen?

The number was 555-7175, and I was hesitant on who it was. My eyes became heavy then, as my brain realised the time of night and demanded more rest. People started coming up the stairs with crates of books as I struggled to text back:

Depends. Who is this?

I sent it as I wanted desperately to go to sleep. Before I could, though, the number texted me back. It said:

Hi it's Wyatt.