Networks

Chapter 5- Cora

When I woke, light was just beginning to filter in through a slit in the curtains.

Curtains?

Where the hell was I?

I struggled into a sitting position. I was in a very mismatched room, with a dark, elegant wallpaper with a yellow smiley-face graffiti onto it. In contrast with the wallpaper, there was old grandma-ish, well-worn arm chairs. I was lying on a couch that was also old, but didn't exactly match the others. I looked across into the kitchen. The dining table looked like a mad-scientists lab table and the whole room was finished with the odd (or not so odd) tea or coffee cup and newspaper littered around on coffee tables, the arm of a chair, or just on the ground or an expensive-looking laptop.

I could smell coffee in the air and, though the sounds of London's early-risers were beginning to start, I could tell the city, and everyone in this apartment, was mostly asleep.

I slid off the low couch. Someone had taken off my coat and laid in across the back of the couch. I also had a blanket over me. I struggled to remember what I had been doing.

I stretched and walked over to the window, looking out. Ah, Baker Street. Now I remembered. I had been walking down Baker Street, on my way to find a place to sleep. I had suddenly felt very faint, just as it started to rain, and collapsed. Some- hopefully nice- person had taken me in.

'You need to eat.'

I jumped nearly a foot into the air as I spun around, probably looking like a ballerina, but at least not screaming.

'Wow, sorry! Usually Sherlock's the one doing the dramatic entrances. I guess I should stop trying to take a leaf from his book.' It was John of course, smiling and looking apologetic.

I gave a nod and swallowed. 'So did you bring me back to your apartment?' I raised an eyebrow, looking around rather apprehensively.

'Yeah, well Sherlock and my house, I guess. 221B, Baker Street.'

'Oh.' I said, surprised. 'You and Sherlock- you live together- you-'

'No! No, we are not a couple! Seriously!' He looked exasperated.

'Not the first time you've been asked that?' I guessed.

'Nope. We aren't... well, I don't know. We aren't even really friends, I don't think.'

'I'll observe then, and see if I think you seem like friends.'

'So you can observe people too? Like Sherlock can?'

'I only became familiar with Sherlock- or even knew he existed- today. Is reading people a talent of his?'

He gave a laugh that sounded almost sarcastic. 'You could say that.' He sat down in one of the armchairs opposite my couch.

'Why are you up so early?'

'Couldn't sleep.'

'Why?'

He looked surprised at my question, and it occurred to me a bit late that it was probably prying.

'I... just was... I sort of...'

'You were in the war.' I noted, letting the pieces fall together. Why else would he be with okay with all he probably saw with Sherlock, why else would he have a limp and have nightmares.

'How-?'

'Don't worry.' I said.

'Sherlock knew that when we first met.' He said quietly.

'Funny story?'

'We just... we just moved in so immediately.' He flushed. 'I- I just meant-'

'I don't care what you meant.' I said, brushing off his pointless awkwardness. 'How did you meet?' I asked, feigning curiosity.

'He needed a house share. I needed somewhere less expensive to live, because I was on an army pension. I met him through an old friend. I walked through the door, into a room at the hospital and Sherlock was sitting there, looking into a microscope. I found myself agreeing before I had seen the house, knew where it was... before I even knew his name.'

'Romantic.' I noted, trying not to sound too bored.

'For God's sake-!'

'Okay, okay.' I said hastily. Spending so much time around Sherlock must have sapped the humor from him. 'How did you... find me?'

'You collapsed just down from our house.' He said. 'We carried you back- well, Sherlock did- and put you on the couch. I was a doctor, but I guess you don't need to be to know that you are starving and sleep-deprived.'

'I just sort of... forget to eat and sleep.' I shrugged nonchalantly.

'How could you possibly forget to eat and sleep?' He demanded, looking shocked. He shifted out of the chair and stalked into the kitchen, probably looking for food.

'It just doesn't feel important.' I said, picking up and examining an apple from the bowl on the coffee table. 'I'll eat this, then.' I took a bit, hardly tasting its juicy sweetness. 'So, how long have you lived together?' I asked, earning a glare. 'No, seriously. I'm just curious.'

He looked at me suspiciously. 'A few months.' He said, attempting, though I didn't know why, to sound off-hand.

'It's an odd place, I must say.' I noted, staring around at the overwhelming room. My eyes roamed to a real, human skull on the mantelpiece, and over to the book case which held everything from dictionaries, to guides to gardening in the winter, to, oddly enough, 1001 Paint Colors and Where to Buy Them. John stopped and gazed around, his eyes softening and a small smile forming on his lips.

'It's your home now.' I deduced, watching him.

He looked back at me but didn't answer. 'Do you need anything else? A shower, perhaps? You are covered in dirt.'

'Thanks. Should I wait until Sherlock is awake?'

'He is probably already up.'

'I am.' He said, sweeping open the door of his room, and looking suspiciously back and forth between us. He gave a small nod. 'And I guess I'll need to talk to Mycroft today.'

'Can I come?' I asked, already foreseeing the answer.

 'No.' Sherlock said, gazing down at me, and annoyed look on his face.

'Why not?' John asked. 'She's not going to get in our way.' He shot me a look, which I didn't understand. 'Are you?' He asked, pointedly, rolling his eyes.

'I will remain silent unless spoken to, if that helps.' I said, straightening up to my full height (which wasn't very tall at all) and giving Sherlock a cold look.

'Fine! But if you are annoying, then I'll kick you back out on the street.'

'Sure, whatever.' I said. 'I'll go have a shower then.'

'Hurry up.' Sherlock said. 'John do you have a 2H pencil on you? If so, could you please go put it in the microwave for 45 seconds.'

John didn't look quite quizzical enough as he began to search the desk for a 2H pencil. 'Mrs Hudson left out some clothes for you, if you need.' He looked to Sherlock. 'I think you should tell her that we aren't adopting her, because she wouldn't listen to me.'

'What?' Sherlock's head snapped up, looking alarmed. Oblivious to the beginning of the conversation, he hadn't been listening as he begun to send a text to his brother. 'No, Watson, we are not adopting her! And you're the one that worries that people will talk!' He bit his lip, punched in a line or two into the phone and snapped it shut.

'Go!' He said to me. 'Mycroft will be expecting us.'

I turned and vanished into the bathroom hearing Sherlock mutter. 'Please, John, I'd prefer if you just got a cat.'