Chapter Text
She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she was woken up by the sound of typing. For a long minute, she had to stay still and listen. It took a while to categorise the sound and subsequently remember the situation she had fallen asleep in.
It came as less of a surprise than she expected that she had succumbed to the warmth and presence of non-threatening people. A bit over a year ago, it would have been unthinkable. Maybe that was why she didn't really mind.
There was a thin blanket covering her body that hadn't been there before, the kind that people kept by the TV.
Watson was in the kitchen, in perfect view from Amelie's position, not quite lying down, since her feet still hung against the floor, but definitely more horizontal than anything. He was frowning at his laptop, or maybe that was just the face he made when he concentrated.
She allowed herself another moment to close her eyes and rest. Her body felt good, much less strained than it usually did after a night of laying around, but that was probably due to sleeping on actual cushions for once. The only point of discomfort was the small sheath of the knife she kept on the outside of her right forearm, which now pressed deep into her skin and probably had been for hours.
An audible breath escaped her as she pushed herself up to readjust the elastic straps holding it in place. The blanket pooled around her hips, letting the morning chill nestle against her sweater. Watson noticed her sitting up and smiled at her over the top of his screen.
She was warm and rested and getting smiled at. Amelie rubbed her eyes, letting an unwanted yawn escape, and tried to blink the strange picture away. It didn't work.
Rubbing a hand over her neck only made her realize the need for a hairbrush. Watson wasn't watching her, but she still felt his attention.
"I... Didn't mean to fall asleep." She admitted it in a more timid voice than she intended.
Watson didn't acknowledge it. He gestured at the windows behind Amelie instead with a nod of his head. "It snowed."
The window further away from Amelie had had its curtains pulled open to let the natural daylight in. Following Watson's gaze, Amelie peered through the glass to see roofs covered in a thin layer of white. The British winter was in full swing then, full of cold and snow-turned grey slick on the streets.
Snowfall was brutal in the way it rubbed under your nose what you had been trying to deny. Yes, it was too cold to be out. No tracks meant no people. It showed normally dark stains of red as glowing bright beacons of injury.
Amelie had gotten lucky to have spent the night inside.
"It did", she agreed, rather uselessly. Her mind was still catching up with her body as she pushed the blanket all the way off. Cracking her neck made some of the tension lessen.
"You don't have a place to stay, do you?"
Watson's question didn't make her movement pause or even stutter. They continued on in one smooth motion until the cricks in her neck were thoroughly loosened, like it didn't affect her. Like she didn't feel like curling up right there on the couch, facing the fireplace, or rather below it like an unwanted critter.
She really didn't, as should be expected. Still, the pull for someplace to settle down, even just for a while, was too great to ignore. Humans were creatures of habits, and she craved them like an addict craved drugs.
"I manage", she answered evenly. She made sure to look Watson in the eyes as she said it to come across as honest, even when she really was unsure of how long she would be able to cling to some resemblance of control before the isolation and the cold inevitably caught up. "I've managed worse."
"You shouldn't have to. You would've frozen out there"
Watson's sympathy was making her irrationally angry. He knew nothing about her, had not experienced a fraction of what her day-to-day had been. At no point had he stood in fields of snow and gore and couldn't bring himself to feel a single thing. He did not have to wake up in an underground medical bunker with a sudden clarity that made him choke on his very being, made him vomit and cry and run as far as his legs could take him.
Her emotions didn't show on the outside, or at least Amelie didn't think it did. She hadn't felt angry in a long time. Fear, paranoia and despair? They had been by her side. Anything else? Nada.
Eventually, Watson pulled away from the eye contact to look back at his laptop. He didn't start typing again. The anger ebbed away as quickly as it had surfaced, leaving Amelie with the shell of an emotion she hadn't thought she was still capable of experiencing. "What I mean to say is, if you want, you can stay here for a while."
Amelie blinked.
"That's a terrible idea", she stated plainly. Watson didn't visibly shrink, but he might as well have with the way he was staring back at her. "You don't know me, or my motives. I could be plotting your demise." She shook her head as another argument popped into her hand. "I haven't even paid you yet. We haven't even talked about payment."
Okay, maybe she was still a little irritated. It wasn't an unusual thing for her to not be in the best mood after waking up, but this was a new dimension. Maybe because normally there weren't people around.
"All very rational arguments." It was Holmes that answered, coming through the open door to his bedroom. He looked like he had also been up long enough to get ready for the day, dressed in a white button-up shirt. "But you do seem to be forgetting the fact that if you stay outside for another night right now in whatever hole you have been sleeping in, you will most likely freeze to death."
"I will not let the most interesting case I have seen this year freeze while there is a perfectly warm place right in front of my bedroom door. It is an entirely rational choice to make both for us and for you. Stay."
"No."
Her shoulder rose up to her ears completely by themselves, her lips pressed together. One night of allowing her to linger was enough, but this- this was too much. She did not know these men who were technically working for her, and neither did they know her. She had to put a stop to this, whatever this was, and quickly.
"I am not so incompetent as to die to some cold temperatures." Her very being was built on ice and snow-covered fields. "This weather is mild compared to what I've trained for." She said nothing about the specialized gear she was now resolutely missing that would have kept her core temperature up almost fully by itself. That would be really helpful to still have.
Watson closed his laptop, brows set into a furrow. "Even if there's no doubt you could survive, it can't be pleasant to stay outside right now. You're welcome here, if you want to stay."
When she looked over at Holmes, he gave an exaggerated nod. The two must have talked about this while she was sleeping.
Amelie got up, smoothing down her hair and sweater. This entire conversation was making her feel unpleasantly ruffled.
Words. Use all those english words you learned.
"Your offer is very... Gracious. But I cannot accept. It is best for me to remain as hidden as possible, both for my own safety and yours. And again, I have yet to pay you. I am not one to leech off people when it is not necessary." Yes, those were good words. Very rational. Sensible.
With a shrug, Holmes turned from the conversation and opened up one of the cabinets. "We are not keeping you here. But please, let's discuss payment after all the fun." At her non-reaction, he elaborated, "When I'm done with the case."
If. If he got done with the case. If he ever found someone made by the same people she was.
"Okay", she agreed. It was not like she had any money on hand; that would need to be freshly acquired.
"Okay."
Watson bit his lip.
"Tea?", asked Holmes.
Actually, she would prefer to run off and never be seen again, but alas, the tea was right there and she wouldn't say no to some caffeine.
"Yes, please."
Watson stopped biting his lip. He allowed Holmes to fumble with the kettle for a minute before getting up to take it from him and setting it to boil himself. How someone so competent in some fields was this helpless in the kitchen, she didn't know.
The tea was nice, as it had been before. Amelie felt just about ready to categorize drinking it as a pleasant activity, but would need more evidence to confirm it. While leaving the flat, she resolutely walked straight past the spare jacket she had worn the day before, not giving it a second glance. That had been a step too far and she would not take the slowness the extra warmth brought to her for another day.
As she descended the staircase, a voice called after her. "Don't forget to come back for your stitches!"
Amelie nodded at Watson's exclamation, which made some of the tension leave his shoulder and was also a lie. She didn't know if she would be back to let him pull out the stitches he had put in her foot. Or if she would be back, in general.
Had she turned into a recluse who ran when things got a little too human? Had she ever been anything else? She did not like what was going on in her head. All those half-smiles, conversation and emotions were as much a craving as an error if they led her to this.
To considering turning around and taking back her answer.
The shock of cold air did wonders for her clarity.
She had to stay on track. Hire a detective, get pointed to the right location, find a fellow escapee and try not to get stabbed. What came after that was still open, but Amelie did not let that deter her. She would find a mutual and go from there. Holmes and Watson were supposed to get her to that point, not make her want to curl up on an old leather couch forever.
She would just have to look out for them from a distance, if that's what it took to keep her walls from crumbling.