Orphan on Baker Street

Twelfth: Dresses

On the way back to the flat in a cab, I start to get a little anxious.

"How long does it usually take another case to come up?" I ask Sherlock. He looks over and smirks at me.

"Hopefully, not long. I wouldn't know unless I committed the crime," he replies before staring straight ahead.

"If you could commit a crime," I start uncertainly, "what would it be?"

Sherlock looks back over to me thoughtfully. "It would be something only I could figure out. I'd leave a bunch of obvious clues, but the police still wouldn't understand any of it. I would commit a felony in each city I solved a crime," he finishes with a small smile.

"I'll make note of that," I say to him, smiling back.

"Could you stop here, please?" Sherlock says suddenly. The cab driver stops and turns around, like he's about to demand something. Sherlock shoves some money at him and gets out of the cab. I slide over in the seat to get out, too, as he holds the door open for me.

I mutter my thanks, and he starts walking. Quickly, I follow behind and look around at my unfamiliar surroundings. Are we anywhere close to Baker Street?

After a while of silent walking, I decide to start conversation.

"You know almost everything about me," I remark, "but I know almost nothing about you."

"Good," he says simply. "I want to keep it that way. There's no reason to give you more ammunition than you already have."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I stare up at him and shove my hands into my coat pockets. He doesn't respond, so I just look at the sidewalk as we continue our journey to the flat.

We get there and hear a baby crying. Sherlock rolls his eyes and takes the stairs 2 at a time. I quickly throw my coat onto the coat rack and follow behind him.

John paces the middle of the room, patting his baby's back.

"Mary's out arranging party plans," John informs us over the crying.

"Party?" Sherlock and I say at the same time.

John just rolls his eyes. "For my birthday. It's the 31st."

"Do you want help with that?" I ask John as I gesture to the baby.

"No. Mary said I had to get used to all of this. She's found a full time job 30 minutes away."

"What about your job?" I say. We don't have to yell anymore, because the baby's crying has gone down to just a whimper. She must miss her mommy.

"Well, uh," John starts. He sits down in the armchair across from Sherlock's and cradles the baby. "I think I'll take a break from that. A counselor recommended we spend more time with the baby, because so far, he's just been put in daycares. And at home everyone just sleeps. So, I think this will benefit the both of us." He smiles down at the baby in his lap, who reaches its hand up to grab John's nose. I grin and take a seat in the desk chair. Sherlock walks back into the sitting room with a mug of steaming liquid and sits in his chair.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" I ask curiously. Presents always give me anxiety, so I just ask bluntly.

"I'll tell you later," Sherlock interrupts. "Just remember we have 4 days to get it." He sips his tea, and I smile.

"You don't really have to get me anything," John says as he puts a pacifier in the baby's mouth.

I just chuckle and ask, "Do you know much about what Mary's planning for you?"

"I actually came up with the idea. She's just out to make it official," he responds with a smile. "We're going out for dinner at Vincent's - that Italian resturaunt a couple blocks down. Us four, Mrs. Hudson and the baby, Greg, and Molly are all coming. Then we're meeting back here, at the flat, for presents and cake."

"Will Molly's boyfriend be joining us?" Sherlock asks monotonously.

"She didn't mention anything when Mary forgot to bring it up," John says with a shrug. "Maybe they got into a fight or something."

I tilt my head a bit. They've never mentioned Molly around me before. Then I stand up to leave.

"I'm going downstairs," I say awkwardly. I roll my eyes at myself as I close the flat door behind me and rush down the stairs. When I turn the corner, Mrs. Hudson's door is open.

"Martha," I push myself to say. It sounds like a foreign word. She stands in front of an open cabinet putting dishes away.

"Oh, hello, Mickey," she greets me with a wide grin. I return the gesture and help her put away mugs.

"Do you think we could, uhm, go out? I want to get a nice dress for John's dinner," I say nervously.

"That was just the thing I was thinking about today! I've been needing some more formal wear in my wardrobe. When I'm done with this, we can go down the street to that clothes store that I forget the name of," she says with another smile to me.

"Great. Thank you," I say with a polite smile. We finish putting away dishes, pull on our coats, and walk out the door. It isn't very far away, so we walk. I can see it from the front door of 221B.

After maybe 5 minutes of walking, we're there and rummaging through clothes racks. I spot a few dresses I really like and put them over my arm.

"Does this look too summer?" Mrs. Hudson asks, showing a yellow dress to me. It's ruffled a bit at the top like a blouse I've seen, and it has short sleeves.

"The color is too summer," I say. "But the style kind of fits," I add with a nod. Mrs. Hudson nods back and continues to browse.

"Do you think I'd be too warm in either of these?" I ask, holding up the two dresses that were over my arm. One is black and long sleeved with a white collar and white cuffs; the other is a thin plaid fabric that's red and comes with a small brown belt around the waist.

"I think you might be a little cold in this one," Mrs. Hudson says as she feels the fabric of the red one. "But that one," she smiles over at the black dress, "is just darling. It reminds me so much of the one your mother wore. I tell you, she would have worn that thing every single day if we had a washing machine and dryer then. And one day she came home from school crying because a boy had ripped the sleeve." Mrs. Hudson lifts one of the sleeves as if looking down at the rip that had brought my mother to tears.

"I guess this is the one, then," I say with a wide grin as I put the red dress back onto the rack. I love hearing stories about my mother as a child. "How old was she when she got it?"

"She was 12, I think. It didn't last very long - maybe half a year or so. It was a birthday present from our favorite aunt. Even though she was in the hospital, she managed to get us presents for all the birthdays and holidays," Mrs. Hudson remembers with a smile.

We walk up to the cashier, and she rings up my black dress and Mrs. Hudson's dark blue one. She decided against the yellow dress.

The two of us exit the store, with me holding the one bag. We walk back home, and Mrs. Hudson unlocks the door. Sherlock rushes down the steps, and I am suddenly scared he'll fall.

"Mickey," he exclaims happily to me. "There's a new case!"