#em fic

“Eddie! I got us new dice!” The curly haired boy looks at him, grinning his excited, brace-faced smile, which makes him return it, even if it’s more subdued. 

“Wonderful, the next campaign will be a momentous occasion then.” He tries to give his usual theatrical flare, hoping it satisfies the kid. 

Henderson nods, but before he can speak another word, the warning bell rings, signaling third period’s about to start. Both walk in opposite directions. As Eddie approaches his science class, his head gives a sudden, aching throb that makes him pause and blink hard, letting out a sigh. Sitting in his usual seat; back left corner for the past six years, the man shivers, frowning up at the vent above him. Yeah it’s Spring now, but he doesn’t need to be frozen out. 

The end of the day can’t come soon enough. He skips lunch, instead spending his time outside smoking and avoiding the whole, entire Hawkins High population. His throat’s starting to get sore, and his head hasn’t stopped aching. He’s still cold even under his leather jacket and denim vest. All he can think about is getting back to the trailer and laying down, and when drugs don’t even cross his mind, it should be a red flag. 

Eddie realizes it’s a ‘Woods Day’, as he calls it in his mind, right when he reaches for the handle of his van two hours later. He and Chrissy meet up deep in the woods behind school, where his usual drug deals go down. He knows the spot isn’t used unless he tells someone to meet him there, so it’s a sure thing he’ll never get caught with Chrissy Cunningham and ruin her popular, perfect-girl reputation. Rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he drops his hand and starts trudging off to the woods, body starting to feel a little bit like the cups of jello they sell in the cafeteria. 

A tickle in his throat makes him cough into the crook of his arm a few times, clearing his throat after. Eddie winces at the pain it brings, his throat feels like a victim of Jason from Friday the 13th. Seeing Chrissy isn’t there yet, the nineteen year old sits down at the picnic table and props his arms up, letting the tips of his fingers press against his now closed eyes, waiting. 

Either seconds or minutes later- Eddie’s not sure which, he hears the sound of crunching forest debris and looks up, seeing Chrissy in her usual cheerleading uniform. She’s glancing backwards every few seconds, as if she’s paranoid someone might see her. The guitarist suspects she probably is. Chrissy Cunningham meeting with Eddie the freak Munson is something that just wouldn’t happen….and yet. He rubs his eyes and tries his hardest to perk up, to seem like everything is fine.

 “Hey, thought you got lost,” he jokes at the girl, giving her a grin. She returns it, which makes warmth bloom in his currently cold body. They’ve started talking more during these rendezvous, getting to know each other and actually become something akin to at least semi-friends. Eddie’s sure that if he asked her how she felt about him, she’d laugh in his face and tell him this is just a drug deal, and she’s trying to be polite when they talk. 

“Nope, I was just having to deal with Jason,” she shakes her head, eyes rolling as Eddie pulls out the small black box containing the drugs he’s giving her. 

“Oh?” He tries to sound casual, her relationship is none of his business. But the idea she’s had to deal with Jason…he swears on his mothers grave if that jock asshole has touched her or hurt her, he’s going to go beat the shit out of him. Chrissy deserves the world. 

“We…I broke up with him, and he’s trying to spread lies,” she shrugs, sitting down opposite him. 

“Oh.” 

A feeling of something blossoms in his chest, hope, maybe. It turns out to just be a cough, and he turns away from the strawberry blonde, keeping his arm snug against his mouth as he does. Growing up, his mother had been big on manners, and he tries his hardest to uphold her rules- covering his mouth, saying please and thank you, being courteous to women. He turns back around. 

“I’m sorry he’s being an ass about it.” The urge to ask about the breakup is strong but he stops himself, knowing it would just lead to an awkward shut down. 

“It’s whatever. Does it suck, yeah, but I couldn’t deal with being around him another day. He’s too selfish and suffocating and…I’m sorry,” she cuts herself off, blushing. “You don’t want to hear about this.” 

“I…I don’t mind, really. I’ve been told I’m a good listener. I can always key his car if you want,” he shoots her a boyish grin, lips quirked in a way that makes him look younger. 

She laughs, and it’s gorgeous. 

Eddie finally opens the box, pulling out the tiny baggie. He’s handing it to her when another cough bubbles up. He barely has time to turn away, coughing into the air this time. It scrapes at his already sore throat and makes his head throb more. When he turns back, wiping his face, Chrissy’s looking at him with her brow furrowed. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Just..swallowed wrong I guess.” Eddie Munson isn’t weak, isn’t vulnerable, and most of all, he has a persona to keep up with. He may not actually be an asshole like half the school says, but who’s he to stop them from believing it. It just helps keep most of them away. 

“Are you sure? You look kind of..” she thinks for the right word. “Kind of pale, and flushed. Sick.”

Her face hasn’t moved from the almost worried gaze she’s been holding, and it makes Eddie nervous. He licks his lips, fiddles with a ring on his left hand. The idea of being sick hasn’t even crossed his mind, he hasn’t been sick in years. Chrissy leans across the table, suddenly in his space and the curly haired man freezes like a wild animal. A delicate hand is suddenly brushing back his curly bangs and laying across his forehead. 

Eddie’s not sure if it’s just the physical contact or the coolness of her fingers that feels so good, but his eyes flutter shut, his long eyelashes on display against pale skin. At the sudden loss of contact, he opens his brown eyes again, feeling embarrassed at how much he hopes it’ll happen again. 

“You’re burning up,” Chrissy’s frown has deepened, almost like she’s worried. 

“Uhh…okay.” He’s not sure what else to say, he’s never had someone just feel his forehead like that before, not even his parents or uncle. It’s so strangely intimate, and Eddie isn’t sure if he should even ask for money, unsure of how to proceed except to leave. 

“You should go home and rest, take some medicine,” the cheerleader suggests. 

It makes Eddie snort, which then makes him wince, his throat sending a jabbing pain towards his tonsils. 

“What?”

Brown eyes meet blue-green. 

“I don’t have medicine, unless you count drugs. I’ll just knock myself out with some weed and that should do the trick. That’s the best thing when you’re sick anyway, right? Sleeping?” 

He hopes his last sentence doesn’t sound as pathetic as it feels. Eddie’s only been sick once since living with his uncle, and it was a barely twelve hour stomach bug that his uncle hadn’t even been around for. His parents didn’t do much in the way of him being ill, and the only thing he remembers from that was being told to drink water. 

“Yeah, sleep is good….” She looks at him, obviously thinking about something. Chrissy bites her lip and hands him back the tiny baggie. 

“I don’t need it yet. Why don’t you…why don’t you come back to my place for a little bit. My parents both work night shifts at the hospital. I have medicine and food.” 

Eddie stares at her, trying to decide if she’s pulling a prank. He thinks she’s being genuine, she’s never been rude to him, and they’ve talked enough he thinks he has her figured out at least a little. Going over to her house, having her take care of him though, that seems like a completely different ball game. He’s going from her drug dealer to..what, a pity case? Or a rebound? He definitely doesn’t have the energy to do anything remotely sexual today.  Plus what if Jason shows up?

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he turns away to cough again. 

It must shake something loose, because congestion suddenly floods his head, stuffing his nose up and making his head feel heavy. Fuck. Eddie wants to tell her that he’d have enough money to get cough medicine and Tylenol if she would just buy the drugs, but he knows he’ll sound like a complete douche if he does. Plus the idea of going into a store sounds terrible. Chrissy shakes her head, biting at her nail.

“No one’s going to know, if that’s what you’re worried about. You need some medicine and food.” 

“Why do you care?” The second he asks, he sees hurt in her eyes and he clears his throat, ignoring the stinging pain. “I-I just meant…you have better things to do than make food for me.” 

“I don’t want to just leave you alone while you’re this sick. You’re really hot.” Chrissy blushes when she realizes she’s just implied. “Your forehead. You..you feel like you have a high fever.” 

If he’s honest, he does feel kind of terrible, and the chills that are crawling down his spine are a pretty good indicator of his fever. Not wanting to spend more time in the woods, Eddie relents. With a nod, he watches Chrissy smile and pick her bag up as he stuffs his black box into his own. Even that takes more effort than he’d like. 

She gives him her address and how to get there, then heads back to her car. Eddie waits, not daring to let anyone see them leaving the woods together, rumors would fly and he’s not sure how he’d handle Jason thinking they were having sex or that they were even talking. His head throbs again and the guitarist finally walks back to the high school, fighting exhaustion the whole way. He’s really going to Chrissy Cunningham’s house, what could possibly go wrong? 

+ + +

As he knocks on the door, Eddie fights back a yawn, rubbing at his eyes that feel tired and strained. He’d had to yank his bandana out of his pocket on the way over to catch a few sneezes, no less congested even after blowing his nose at a red light. He can feel his skin crawl at how gross he must be, and suddenly wishes he could back out. He’s going to get Chrissy sick, and though he’s not even been sick for 12 hours, the guitarist can tell this is going to be a miserable next few days. 

The door opens and Chrissy’s no longer in her cheer outfit, instead she’s in cloth shorts and a blue shirt, barefoot and looking much more at ease than she does at school. Eddie feels his heart beat a little faster, but the woozy feeling he’s been fighting off all day finally hits and he has to pull himself out of his stupor. 

“Hey come on in,” she closes the door behind him and he feels out of place in the nice house. He takes his boots off, knowing it’s the polite thing to do so he doesn’t track crap everywhere, then sniffles and follows her further inside. The house is big, bigger than anything he’s ever lived in, let alone been in. Eddie thinks maybe the Wheeler's house is the next nicest, but Chrissy’s definitely takes the cake. 

As he follows her into the living room, the nineteen year old grabs his bandana again, pressing it tight against his face as he freezes halfway into the room, eyes shutting. He sneezes three times (like always), wipes at his nose and then puts the cloth back in his pocket. 

“Bless you.” 

“Thanks….uh, do you have a sink I can use?” He wants to wash his hands before touching things. 

Chrissy leads him back from where they came, opening up a closet near the stairs. He gives her a smile and shuts the door. As Eddie washes his hands, he glances into the mirror, frowning. He definitely looks sick, his face is pale, he’s got dark circles under his eyes. There’s a deep pink hue to his cheeks that doesn’t bode well, and the underside of his nose is working its way to the same color. Pushing his hair out of his face once he’s dried his hands, he becomes aware of just how cold he is, and how uncomfortably warm his face feels. 

Coughing into his arm, Eddie finally re-emerges and walks back into the living room, where Chrissy is fussing over a few blankets and a pillow. He watches her, feeling a little overwhelmed by her kindness. He’s pretty sure his fever is making him over emotional, at least, that’s what he’s going to tell himself. The cheerleader turns and gives a shy smile. 

“I hope there's enough blankets. If not, I can get more.” She looks genuinely worried, so Eddie decides to help ease the crease between her brows. 

“I only have one blanket, and it’s pretty thin. This is like a palace compared to what I’m used to. Seriously Chrissy…it’ll be fine.” He takes his vest and leather jacket off, goosebumps spreading on his skin at the loss of warmth. Setting them aside carefully, Eddie takes the cigarettes and lighter out of his pants pocket, setting them on top of his things, along with his keys, then after a moment's thought, puts his rings in his jacket pocket. 

Chrissy giggles quietly and he turns to her, raising an eyebrow tiredly. 

“Sorry, just, it’s not every day Eddie Munson is seen without his rings and jacket. It’s different, that's all.” 

She’s right, it’s rare people see him so…underdressed. He likes to keep up his appearance, likes his flashy rings and cool leather jacket. Having them stripped away, leaving him in only jeans and a white t-shirt is a rarity, and it makes him get under the blankets quickly, pulling them close. He shuts his eyes almost involuntarily, the feeling of being horizontal and warm making him sleepier than before. A moment later, he feels Chrissy sit across from him on the coffee table. 

“Alright, temperature check time.” Her voice is gentle and it makes him want to never leave. Forcing his eyes open, he can’t help but smile a little, seeing the cheerleader look so determined. She’s got the glass thermometer in her hands, shaking it and making sure it’s low enough, before she holds it out. Eddie takes it and looks at her, feeling himself grow embarrassed. 

“I’ve never..uhm,” he swallows. “I don’t know where..” 

For her part, Chrissy doesn’t make fun of him, just nods. “Open your mouth, and lift your tongue up. It goes underneath for four minutes.” 

Doing as instructed, Eddie slips it under his tongue, then holds it. After two minutes of silence, he crosses his eyes like a child might, attempting to read where the red liquid is. Instead, it just makes his head throb, so he shuts his eyes again and waits until Chrissy says he can take it out. 

“Okay, let me see,” she takes it when he slides it out, carefully holding it horizontally making sure not to shake it. 

“Jesus Eddie, 101.5 (38.61 C)  You must feel awful,” she pushes his bangs back like she had earlier, and the man lets out a noise that’s something between a whine and a moan. 

With his eyes shut, he can sense Chrissy leaving, then coming back after hearing the tap run. She’s got a glass of water and two Tylenol in her hand. He takes both, the arm that’s holding the water feels shaky, like he could drop it any minute. The strawberry blonde must be able to tell, because right after he’s swallowed the pills she takes the glass back, setting it on the coffee table for him. Before he can do much else, Eddie curls into himself, arm over his mouth as he coughs, though this time it seems to take longer for him to stop. The coughing makes his nose run, and he searches for his bandana with his free hand, pulling it out and finally wiping his nose when he finishes coughing. 

It’s as if he’s a walking plague. The swipe at his nose causes an itch to unfurl in his head, causing him to sneeze into the bandana. The congestion in his head seems to want to stay, and by the time he’s finished with blowing his nose (which is a waste of time), he realizes Chrissy is still there, watching him while he’s a mess. His cheeks burn a deeper red from embarrassment. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, keeping the bandana in his hand this time. 

“It’s okay, you’re sick Eddie, really sick.” She runs a hand through his curls, and the man leans into the touch, not even realizing he’s doing it. His eyes are shut again and she continues to sit there, only moving to change to the floor so she can be closer, easier to reach him. 

“Sleep well Eddie, I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Eddie’s already dreaming about an Angel with strawberry blonde hair and blue green eyes, body delicate but so beautiful. Maybe one day he and the Angel will have a happy ending together.

+ + +

He half wakes up screaming, body uncomfortably hot, thrashing under blankets that feel constricting. Not having much room to actually move on the sofa, Eddie ends up half off, feet on the floor as his limbs bend unnaturally. Dimly, he’s aware that there’s someone wiping his face with a washcloth. It’s cool on his face and he wants nothing more than to have it left there, but it keeps swiping over his cheeks, then his forehead. 

Memories plague his mind, as if a movie is showing all of the ‘highlights’ of his childhood. Brief moments of screaming and breaking glass, drug deals going down in the same room he’s coloring in, lines of coke being snorted from the man next to him. Learning how to hotwire a car in middle school, being choked and pinned down, yelling for help while the man threw him on the bed and-

Eddie gasps and shoots up, knocking the hand out of the way. His hair is everywhere and it’s making him feel claustrophobic. Expertly, having done it countless times before, the DND player takes a hair tie from his wrist and pulls his hair up in one swift motion, wrapping the band around his curls to make a ponytail. His bangs still hang heavy on his forehead, but he feels a little less like he’s going to suffocate now. 

Nose still stuffy, throat still sore, body aching, he lays back down before realizing he’s still in Chrissy’s house. Turning his head to his left, Chrissy is sitting there, eyes wide. She has a damp washcloth in her hands that are now trembling from the dramatics of him waking up. He takes a shaky breath, turning weakly to cough, this time though, Eddie merely pulls the neck hem of his shirt up barely over his mouth, aiming coughs down against his chest. They’re exhausting and tear at his throat that feels swollen. Nausea claws at his stomach but he forces the feeling down- he refuses to puke in Chrissy’s house. 

“Are you okay?” 

It’s four minutes of silence; aside from Eddie’s shaky, hard breaths, before Chrissy speaks. He looks at her again, noting the trembling has stopped. She’s worrying at her lip, eyes still wide, though, and the man nods, even if they both know it’s a lie. 

“S-Sorry, I..I didn’t…” 

“It’s fine, Eddie. I don’t think you meant to have a nightmare.” 

For a split moment, the guitarist thinks he could tell her it wasn’t a nightmare, that it was a rush of memories that are anything but fond. Maybe she already knows. Instead, he looks at Chrissy and blinks owlishly. He can already feel sleep tugging at him again, but he fights it. 

“Thank you…for taking care of me.” 

They both wince at his voice, congested and raspy. The cheerleader shakes her head and smiles again. He feels warm and fuzzy, or maybe it’s just the fever talking. 

“Everyone deserves to be taken care of. Even you, Eddie, whether you think so or not.” 

At that, he gives a tired smile and his hand finds hers. He’s so sure what exactly is happening between them, but he figures it can wait until he’s fully well and coherent again. He just hopes her feelings don’t change. Eddie wants her to feel the way she makes him feel, and he hopes he’ll be the one to be able to do it. 

The moment is broken when he feels how full his bladder is. Grimacing, he sits back up and swings his legs over the side of the sofa. At the look Chrissy gives him, he shoots her an apologetic one back. 

“Gotta take a leak….shit, sorry that was…” he trails off, rubbing his face. “I need to use the restroom,” he attempts something far less crass. She giggles, but it drops the same time he does. The second he stands, Eddie feels his legs buckle, and then he’s staggering. Chrissy is right there though, holding him up in a way he’s honestly surprised she can do. He knows he’s not a big guy, and that cheerleaders are strong, but damn. Kind of a turn on. Feeling like Bambi as she helps, Eddie’s hands shake as he opens the bathroom door. 

“Keep it unlocked, I don’t want to have to break the door down if you pass out.” 

“M’not gonna pass out.” It would be more convincing if he wasn’t only 70 percent sure of the statement. 

By the time he’s back on the couch, the eccentric man feels like his soul has been sucked out by a Barghest, leaving him to rot away while others in a campaign attempt to fix whatever damage he’s caused. Jesus, he's not felt this sick since he was a kid.

“Just sleep okay? I’m going to work on some vegetable soup, if that sounds good.”

“…I don’t think anyone’s ever made me soup before.“ 

Damn, again with the pity party. God, Munson. Get it together. 

“Surely your parents must ha-“ Chrissy freezes, and Eddie knows why. 

There are rumors that circulate every year like clockwork, about why he lives with his Uncle, why he’s been held back so much, why he sells drugs. No one knows the truth.

“No, they were usually busy,” he tries to give Chrissy an out. She thankfully takes it, and he wonders if she does it because he’s so sick, or if she simply believes the rumors. Too tired to think properly, Eddie’s eyes close and he finds and squeezes Chrissy’s hand. She squeezes back before heading to work on the soup. 

Sleep doesn’t come. Eddie’s too tired, and the fact he can’t breathe through his nose makes him annoyed. His fever’s got him feeling uncomfortable and his head hurts too much to think about anything. Shifting restlessly, the guitarist sniffles, nose scrunching up at how gross he sounds. He glances at the clock on the wall, frowning when it’s nearing 7 o’clock already. Sniffling again, Eddie snaps his face into his bandana, sneezing not his usual triple, but twice as many, the demon cold from hell he’s suffering from obviously wanting to make him miserable. 

Chrissy is suddenly there when he raises his head, a box of tissues in her hand. 

“Sounded like you need these.” 

“Tha’gks,” his voice is thick with congestion, and shyly, feeling embarrassed, Eddie takes a few and turns away, blowing his nose. It’s disgusting sounding, and he feels bad that Chrissy is witnessing all of it. He wants to apologize, but his nose that’s always been extra sensitive has other ideas. As he sneezes again, he feels that same delicate hand he’d been holding an hour prior rub at his back. He looks up after, still pressing his bandana to his face, and can’t help but give a weak laugh. 

“I bet you didn’t know you’d get to witness just how gross Eddie the freak Munson is,” he wipes his nose carefully, then sighs and lays it next to him. Chrissy gives him a genuine smile. 

“You’re sick. You’re maybe a little gross,” -the words are teasing- “but I would be too if I was sick. I’m just glad I’m able to maybe help you feel a little less terrible.” 

She takes his hand, the one that hasn’t been holding the bandana, and squeezes it. For the second time in as many hours, Eddie wonders if maybe they’d be good together. Then he remembers she’s a cheerleader and he’s the black sheep of the school. He squeezes back and then smiles, eyes still fever bright. 

I will confess here that I have never seen much of my family’s wealth. The purse strings are held viciously tight by both my grandfather and grandmother who guard the family coffers like twin dragons on their respective, and in some cases still joined, hordes. Mum must be given some kind of allowance or she is indulged regularly. I have observed especially that grandfather George’s, affection or remorse often takes the form of monetary gifts. In any case, during her stay with Caroline she must have been saving a portion of her money to give to me, and must have been doing so for a while.

So then, I am now very suddenly in possession of a considerable amount of it. I am no millionaire of course but still it is significant enough. I can understand why she didn’t want to risk sending this envelope by mail. Through Greg after all, it was not likely that Caroline should have found it out. 

Also since I have not yet been set upon and hounded by the detestable lawyer Eve, I think she is still in the dark about all this.

(I will not say much about the letter she wrote me here, not yet. I have only read the first few sentences and to my own surprise  I had to stop. It is still folded in the back of this book. I have put the pictures away in box. I cannot say exactly why…)

The opportunity offered however has propelled me into action. Things I have been contemplating can now begin to take shape in reality.

Ending my marginally criminal career myself and cleanly had not been possible until now. Apparently as I am finding, money allows a certain kind of freedom and handled appropriately it can be used as an amnesiac, a pacifier, and even as a gateway to metaphoric waters of forgiveness.  

So yes, I am leaving the criminal information circuit. Staying would be nothing more than me confusing stubbornness (and yes my own pride) for strength, and no one including myself will be grateful of that. Realistically my natural tendencies in looking for trouble are not something I will be able to quit entirely. Come on, I know myself better than that! Cases with Sherlock and the occasional independent tracking job are the obvious exceptions. I have kept on a few clients who will pose no threat to anyone’s person and or reputation.  

Because it isn’t only my safety and reputation I am risking anymore. I realize that, and I can’t allow others, particularly others I care a great deal for to be hurt because of my poor choices.

Not again in any case. Because the sad fact is one of them already was, and that will always sit heavily with me. The days in which I could be careless with my own person are gone. There are people now who I believe would willingly step between me and danger. As would I for them…

The feeling is a mixture of terrible responsibility and the warmest knowledge I have ever possessed.

The rest of the money is safely now in an account where Caroline will not be able to touch it. If I handle it well, it should allow me the flexibility to explore different and intriguing new options. For example I may now take additional credits at the university with my time not being pulled in three drastically different and demanding directions. My degree may be finished much more quickly this way as well, then who knows?

This entry started with a remark upon the healing qualities of having your body being submerged in hot water. Coincidentally this also makes you tired and exceedingly ready for clean sheets and sleep. If I don’t move now I think I’ll doze off in this chair. Pen in hand, wet hair, robe and all, and then where would I be?

Still my eminent bed-time aside I don’t quite know how to end this…

I’m going to try something new and hope against hope it doesn’t end up going wrong.

Teaching post secondary, museum work, then there were archaeological positions. Emily's advisory was sure something like that would prove perfectly suitable but to Emily nothing seemed quite the right fit. Well, a degree was a start but what it was for was not necessarily set in stone. Captured by a sudden curious though she pulled her phone out of her pocket and shot a text to Mycroft Holmes as she walked down the pavement.

I’d like to begin by saying “No of course you’re not the government who said anything like that”- She couldn't help but tease him a little …but I wonder if you could tell me what the government looks for as far as qualifications for employment.” -EA

The answer came fairly quickly.

Of course I’m not the Government, but if one were seeking employment with or as such, a lack of a criminal record would be a good start, miss Alistair. The ‘official’ Government does, at the very least. –MH

Emily stopped, re-read the message and sighed. He had a point. Damn him. She sent the reply.

Oh. Well yes that would make sense I suppose. –EA

A few moments later her phone buzzed again and she jogged across the busy street narrowly avoiding a turning cab before checking the inbox again.

Indeed. And why were you asking? –MH

Emily decided simply not to answer. The fact of the matter was she was feeling a little embarrassed for even thinking of something like that. Though not at all discouraged. It was something maybe she'd best look into another time and on her own.

Perhaps when she was less annoyed with the idea of having to come to a decision at all. She slipped her phone into her pocket, Mycroft was right though. She couldn’t very well ignore those specific parts of her life. 

For the time being she enjoyed the way she made a living. It got her what she needed and was passably entertaining and challenging, though she was beginning to feel that realistically she couldn’t expect to be able to do it forever…Maybe she’d stick with detective work, indeed she was really coming to love that. Or there was always writing. On a freelance basis, but that would soon get boring if that was actually all it was.

She reached the door of 221 b. and opened it heading upstairs. Pan greeted her warmly and she scooped up the grey striped tabby dropping her bag to the floor with a thump.

“Hello handsome,” she said into his fur he purred as she scratched his ears nuzzling against her face. “Hasn’t Sherlock been into see you?” the cat was acting rather people-deprived which probably meant that the detective had likely been out and about for most of the day. “Tell me something hmm, why do they expect us all to know in our early twenties what we ought to do with the rest of our lives?” She asked the cat as he worked his way up to sit on her shoulders.

This practice had been cute as a kitten but now a large heavily muscled adult it was not a game she could keep up with him for any extended period of time.Never the less with Pangur Bán perched atop her like a parrot she made her way to the kitchen.

“Honestly though Pan, as if I have the slightest clue.” She said opening the fridge to find three full shelves of what appeared to be blood samples.

Where had all the food gone?

A singled scrawled note on the door read 'bathtub' So without a second questioning thought she made her way down the hall to the washroom. Continuing her one sided conversation as she did so.

“I know what I like, what I enjoy, what interests me but I also know that there probably aren't a lot of careers out there that will be-“ She opened the door and immediately stopped talking. The bathtub was full up with ice and what remained of the food was stashed there, with the intention, obviously, of keeping it cool and out of the way of the blood samples.

Pan leaned over slightly to inspect the oddity more closely as Emily ran her tongue over her teeth. Part of her really wanted to find something wrong with this solution but she couldn’t. It worked fine. Shaking her head she started to walk out the door then doubled back for the milk, as she intended to make tea.

Pan had finally grown too heavy, so she shrugged him gently off and though he mewed in protest he eventually obliged her. Lovingly winding his way though her legs as she made herself a warm cup in the kitchen. “You know, I think I’d quite like to be a cat now that I think of it.” she said looking down at him and smiling. “Because really you have it almost too good you know.” He blinked once in what Emily assumed was agreement and then bounded over to the open violin case and settled himself inside of it.

“Yeah alright it’s settled then… I’ll just be a cat.” Emily muttered as she returned to place the milk back in the ice filled bathtub with a substantial shhhunk sound. “Or I’ll just be the crazy lady who talks to her cats. That's a profession right? I mean, provided I charge some kind of admission and get about thirty more of you.” She added as she returned from the washroom. Pan opened one eye lazily as if to say

Look, I’m glad you’re home and all but I’ve just decided that a nap is very much in order so if you don’t mind…

However I will have to once more disappoint you my friend.

I take no pleasure in doing so but it cannot be avoided. I can only recite that age old adage "patience is a virtue " and hope that you forgive my natural inclination to tease.As you're an inanimate object I imagine you will not find this too difficult  

Today I was put in the awkward position of coming into contact with one of my Grandmothers various lawyers,  a Mr. Theodore Eve who is her current favorite.

I am never quite prepared for an encounter with Mr. Eve. He is the kind of person one distrusts immediately. His face is pinched and narrow as if the very physiognomy has something to hide from you, and I have never been fond of the way his eyes light on me. It always feels like he's watching me without my knowledge, even if I am staring right at him. He gives me a disquieting feeling that is best described in one word. Icky.

I am making note of this encounter in an attempt to scrub myself clean of it, and for a few other obviously aforementioned reasons as well.

 As I said we met today while I was returning from my morning class. I was walking, albeit distractedly, with my nose in a book, You didn't think you were the only one did you?  when he approached and obviously knowing my preferences well, asked if he could buy me a cup of coffee. I asked if he planned to poison it. He laughed. I did not.

We made our way to the coffee shop anyway, now, perhaps you are wondering why I didn't simply tell him go to hell. The answer is that over the last couple years I have found that Eve cannot simply be avoided. His dogged determination and stamina are two of the things my Grandmother likes best about him I imagine. Many times over the last two years I have attempted to shake him when he has arrived in my way. I have yet to succeed without actually sitting down and hearing him out. 

So this was what I was doing. Indulging him. Getting it over with. Feeling an electrical storm brewing under my skin as I did so. He smiled at me, and the whole of his expression put me in mind of a crocodile surveying the shoreline.  

"You seem well Miss Alistair." He said reaching out and placing a long fingered hand on my wrist. Apparently still inclined towards this uncomfortable habit of touching me as though was are familiar friends. I dislike it and make no secret of this but he is either too dense to see, it or he simply doesn't care.   "I've had a lot of practice." I said pulling my hand out from under his thin somewhat moist fingers. His smile grew wider and toothier and he went on to insist that I really seemed to be turning my life around. 'Miraculously' my past records had been erased. I was attending school and though my work was not entirely honest it was expanding somewhat. Then he begin asking after a few of my clients. I very nearly stood up as this was nothing I am ever prepared to discuss...not with him, and even with my friends the occasion is rare that I speak about specifics. He stopped my leaving reaching out to my hand again, this time his fingers closed restrictively around my wrist. He apologized in a soft false tone for being nosy and not having much choice I sat once more, knowing this was far from over. Eve then moved on to trivial topics such as the weather, my studies, my health, and my relationship status. 

"Single, my my are you really?"

"Is that so very surprising?" 

"Well no, though we had assumed-" His voice dropped off and the suggestive look he gave me made the waitress move away in discomfort. My skin crawled, perhaps a year ago I would have blushed bright pink to my ear tips. However I held my ground and worked to kept my expressions smooth and the tint beneath my cheeks manageable  When he still said nothing I deigned to look curious, if for no other reason than to move us along. He only shook his head and we said no more on the subject. Though I had the sneaking suspicion that I had not entirely derailed his disbelief of my bachelorette status.  

  It was then we came to it. 

The real reason he had sought me out.

"The paperwork your grandfather has drawn up, leaving you the house in Sussex is nearly gone through, Your grandmother would like to offer you the opportunity to sell it. The house has been empty for some time and is in considerable disrepair ...She would offer you much more than you might get for it elsewhere. Enough to do any number of things, I heard a rumor that you were considering pursuing a doctorate?" Now it was my turn to smile. It was not a crazy idea but where or from whom this man gets his information...I'll never know.

"You can tell her no thank you." I said simply. He frowned his brow creasing unpleasantly. "Now miss-" He then proceeded to bore me with a long list of reasons and why-fores and stupid, unnecessary complements to my intelligence. That was it however. That was his reason for coming. This stupid bloody inheritance issue. I was instantly uninterested and unconcerned. I had sat through my obligations to him and now should have been free to do as I pleased. I made once more to stand but he stopped me with a sudden sharpness in his tone.

  "If you do not comply with her request she will be inclined to-"

"To what?" I asked exasperatedly. Pulling away again as his hand had once more migrated to my arm. As if perhaps he were concerned for me. I was just about spent. After four years of her threats I admit I was...I am growing very tired of them, and I already felt he had taken enough of my afternoon from me and mine.

"What will she do, make suggestions against my character?" I pressed a few people turned to look at us and I savored his discomfort at the scene I was making. "If this were the 1895 she might call to public attention my  living and working with a man despite a lack of marital status, my habit of wearing pants, being a feminist, or any other number of things that are perfectly commonplace in the modern world despite her archaic inclinations towards viewing it. Yes. This would be a grand plan, Mr. Eve if but she also fails to take into consideration that I give absolutely none of the fucks about what she or that side of my family think of me. I will say it again for you. I simply fail to give a damn." I let out a short sigh "In any case Grandpa is in perfect health, any bequeathing he's doing, is more likely than not a precaution, or an act of drama, subject to change, and as impulsive as he is." 

It was an old argument but I stetted back to drink in the pleasurable effect of my blows as each took it's reactionary toll on the man before me.  He said nothing for a moment then came forwards so close to me that I thought he may have been telling me a secret, and said in a very low growling voice.

"You are far too high handed in this matter and falsely emboldened by recent events in your life. I promise you that they don't mean a thing. Caroline takes what she wants. I am also obliged to tell you that the contents of your grandfathers will holds for her, a considerable amount of wants." All pretense of pleasantness were gone, his eyes had taken on a kind of hyper focused glassy quality. When it comes right down to it he knows exactly what Caroline can and cannot do as he is often integral to it's orchestration. 

I was surprised by the foreboding turn the conversation had taken, but having nothing more to say to him I left and returned home, reminded as if I could forget how much I loath the odd theatrical workings of this family. This seems to me a minimal problem and irrelevant because as I said my grandfather is in perfect health.

  As you know, I dislike being in the dark and though I cannot place it I feel some disconnect with this set of information.

  Material items tend to mean very little to me, a house however...  well... I would not turn down a house. Particularly not that house, as I know what it meant to mum. It is possible that it ha some kind of potential for me, and my possession of it would have the added bonus of pissing off Caroline. For the first time in my life I have some sort of context in which I may start planning a future, perhaps this place in Sussex will be included in it. His last statement however makes me wonder if indeed that is all that is being offered to me. If it were as simple as asking my grandfather what he meant to do

- but it isn't.

Both my grandparents are quite mad in their own way. I suppose we shall just have to wait see. 

  Until then I plan on doing what I always do with my familial problems: 

Ignore them and protest loudly if anyone should attempt to point them out to me. 

   Childish?

The classroom was buzzing with expectant chatter as the student’s trickled into the last session of the year. The coffee cups numbered in the dozens had this been a 101 class there would have been hundreds. Emily walked to her usual seat shrugging out of the bomber jacket she had adopted from Sherlock’s collection of disguises, and pulled a pencil out of her bag she settled in to the test. “God help me.” A boy with curly red hair sank into the seat beside her. Sunglasses over his eyes looking rather pale. “I didn’t sleep last night, did you sleep last night?”

“Yeah.” Emily answered with a little laugh “Why Adam? Are you really telling me that binge drinking while studying did not yield an environment conducive to perpetration for this test nor a good night’s sleep to follow? I’m shocked” Adam turned his head slowly and though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was squinting at her annoyed.

“You have a lot of words for-“ he tipped his head back comically over his back to try and see the clock over the door. “7:45 in the morning. Oh Christ… this move… such a poor choice.  If I threw up right now would that bother you?” He groaned unable to right himself immediately his hang-over forcing him to move slowly back to an upright position. “What gave me away? Was it the sunglasses, seeing as this is London and we have no sun.” Emily watched him struggle sightly amused with folded arms.

“Yes. That and you sent me several drunk texts last night, but in your own defense they were all related to the study guide for this class. So well done there.” Adam still moving slowly lay his head down on the desk in front of him. “I’m an idiot.” He said into his arm.

“Yes you are.” Emily agreed.

“Who’s an idiot?” A tall girl with dark skin and long black hair sank into the other seat beside Emily, who glanced over at her “Three guesses.” She answered sarcastically pointing at the miserable red headed boy, “Hi Reggie, you ready for this?” she asked. The new girl flashed a confidant smile at her. 

“Should be a walk in the park. Morning Adam, how many fingers am I holding up.” Emily grinned in agreement, though it was likely to be one of the most painful final exams one of the perks of sitting next to Adam was the surge of confidence you could get from him. Adam growled at the question, “Hi Reg, be a doll and go jump off the library roof.” He mumbled without looking up. The other thing about Adam was he showed up wasted to all his tests, but no matter how bad it was he always pasted. Still sitting beside him, at the time, you had the feeling you would do better then he would. 

“Hullo my lovelies,” Emily turned around to see her other acquaintance a tall blonde boy, arriving with his usual chipper early morning attitude. “Is it Collin? That bastard...” Adam mumbled his head apparently sewn to the desk. “The one and only. Bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual.” Reggie smiled at the new boy as he sat down.

“Hey there,” Emily greeted him as he sat down “you look well.” Collin winked at her running his fingers through his spiked blond hair.

“Nothing like excellent morning sex to get one prepared to kill a tough test.” Reggie raised her eyebrows.  “You know you go through more boyfriends than I do and that’s saying something.” Collin held up a finger and shook his head. “Ah ah ah. I don’t date, they are not boyfriends, but I do have a hell of a lot of fun.” Adam lifted his head and pushed the sunglasses up on his head to glare at Collin.

“Well, stop talking about your fun so damn loudly. Just because you’re my best mate doesn’t mean you can ignore the rules of Adam’s morning hangovers….shhhhhhh.” He slowly lowered his head back to the table. “but congrats on the sex.”  He finished sincerely.

Collin reached over and petted his friends hair.“Why thank you Adam dear. Did you get anywhere with that girl last night, Annie, Amy what was her name?” Adam only groaned something that sounded vaguely like ‘shut up asshole’ “Aw now that’s a shame I liked her.” Collin sighed.

“Alright everyone I know we’d all like to get this over quickly” Professor Andrews had just entered the room she handed the test out to the front rows. “When you’re finished bring your exams to the front and then you’re free to go.”

“I’m not free. I’ll never be free not with this headache never again.” Adam whined Emily shook her head disparagingly.  “It’s your own damn fault so stop complaining, I mean it. You distract me during this and I will kick you so hard you’ll forget about your headache.” She whispered as the tests made their way back. Adam looked over at her with false shock. “and here I thought you were a lady.” He whispered.

“A lady who’s getting an ‘A’ on this thing despite the potentially distracting results of your idiotic choices” She shot back. “Right, both of you shut it or else.” Reggie hissed, Adam chuckled but didn’t say anything more.

The test itself wasn’t so bad, Emily felt confident about most of her answers. Reggie was finished first followed by Collin and finally Adam before he left he pushed a piece of paper towards her while she was double checking her short responses. 

Happy Christmas, your answers are fine. I just looked them over before I got up to hand my paper in. I didn’t cheat though I swear! Take it easy.- Adam