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"Sara."
There's only one person on the planet who ever calls her that anymore, her brother. The one who knew her best before everything went to shit and their lives became a little less bright. Sherlock doesn't say anything, but the tilt of her head let's him know she's listening. So he talks and she listens but she thinks at the same time, about how he's one of the few people she doesn't mess with beyond the occasional remark or string of teasing they so casually dish out at each other.
She gives him problems like she does everyone else, mostly in her habit of picking at people they're trying to help. She can't help it, she states facts instead of sputtering lies or sweet sugared words that feel like ash on her tongue. But she cares about him, really cares about him.
Very few people have earned their way into that particular section of Sherlock's heart. The section she closed off and forgot about the day their parents died. There's Mrs. Hatano, sweet Mrs. Hatano who puts up with her and all her bullshit in exchange for letting her bring her friends in for consulting. Sweet Mrs. Hatano whose picked up the pieces of Sherlock more times than either of them can count and put them back together each time something manages to shatter her. Inspector Reimon who depends as much on her insights as she does him and Shibata for their investigations no matter how much her and Shibata may butt heads.
Then there's Wato, but that particular nerve is still raw and the very action of thinking of her makes her suck in a breath and set her jaw, so she sets it aside. Sherlock understands loss, but she also understands what it's like to have every nerve stripped out of her and laid bare to an assault of pain so deep she wondered how she got up and walked away from it.
It would be easier to cut out the part of her that still cares, but Sherlock's carried it with her so long she doesn't think she could.
But it doesn't stop her from wanting to.
"Hey." Kento's tone has softened, words trailed off into a desire to catch her attention again, realizing she drifted too far into thought. It works and the present sharpens into focus a question coming out as a hum as his legs settle into the corner of her vision. She lifts her head, staring up at him out of the corner of one eye. He knows he has her now and his lips quirk into a small smile before he sits down beside her, an action she watches and shifts how she's sitting to accommodate the sudden proximity.
"What are you thinking about?" It's an innocent enough question, but it digs at her like a knife blade because she's not sure how to answer it. Her attention wanders away from him, taking in the sight of the room around them. The same as she recalls it, just emptier for lack of Wato's presence.
The thought sticks in her ribs and makes her grimace as she tries to dig the fleeting knot of pain out and discard it like she normally would. She feels like a fool, allowing herself to be so compromised, useless by her own standards. She sits back, head thumping against the couch as she stares up at the ceiling.
"Everything." It's the best she can give given the chaos in her mind, thoughts coming and going at such a rapid pace she barely has time to pin any of them down. Past, present, what ifs, eventualities and possibilities.
"Everything?" He parrots back at her, the ending of the world curled up in a question instead of a statement. She glances at him, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile that she doesn't feel. It's a show and he knows it, but he doesn't pry and she doesn't offer.
(Something she's secretly thankful for, because he knows her better than anyone else.)
"Should you even still be here?" She asks after the silence between his question and her lack of response stretches out so long it makes her anxious. She sits up again, elbows dropping against her knees as she brings her full attention back to him. "After all, I'm still a wanted criminal and you're always on a time limit. I wonder how long it will take before they start to speculate and wonder if I snapped and killed you too."
I only have twenty minutes.
Sherlock damn well knew twenty minutes had already come and gone.
He laughs then and she fights down another scowl in favor of keeping her expression carefully neutral, succeeding only partially before she stands and paces the small space, fingers threading through her hair. She's frustrated, restless, trying to climb a wall with no hand holds and she keeps slipping and ending straight back down at the bottom. She wants to do something other than sit and think, needs to chase what few leads she has.
Instead she's still here but she has no desire to run into Moriwaki until she has all her cards in place and to do that she has to wait until the other woman has left her office for the day.
"I figured you could use the company," he says with a shrug. "Besides, I can tell them I got stuck in traffic." The reply surprises her briefly before she laughs, turning to face him on the heel of one foot.
"I don't need company," she shoots back, before she resumes her pacing. At the same time she doesn't want him to leave, doesn't want to be plunged back into the cloying silence that used to bring her comfort, but now offers nothing more than a reminder of the choices she made. She stops long enough to gauge his reaction and he calls her out on her lie without saying anything, his expression soundly telling her he knows she's full of shit.
So he stays put and she makes another circuit before dropping into the chair in front of her desk, swiveling in it to stare at her blank computer screen. She threads her fingers together, elbows propped against the arms of her chair and stops to think once again, losing herself in her mind in an attempt to sort out the mess still there.
She gets as far as cataloguing every single piece of information she knows about her current case before it all crumbles again and she hisses out a sigh in frustration, shoving herself back from her desk and turning back to face the room proper. Kento is still there, his attention still steady on her even if his position has changed.
"Talk to me, Sara."
Again, again with that name and it sends everything skittering through her head all over again, vague ghosting memories of people whose faces she could hardly recall but still knew by heart anyway sliding across the surface. She shook her head to clear it, pinning him with a glare that has absolutely zero effect. "About what? How we got here? How I need to solve this case and bring Stella Maris to it's knees?" She studiously doesn't mention the almost desperate desire to bring Wato home that she keeps trying to ignore.
After all, she may have doused that particular bridge in gasoline and set it alight to burn away.
"Whatever you want."
She sits back with a laugh and her frustration mounting higher and higher, a scream catching underneath her jaw and building until she has to put more effort then she possesses into swallowing it down. There's too much nervous energy and nothing to take it out on, nothing to focus it on so it builds and builds until she twitches, fingers drumming on her thigh and leg jumping a staccato pattern against the floor. She's teetering on a meltdown, jaw clenching as she fights it, fights it as the scream rises again with a renewed wave of something close to dizzying fury, burning and itching until she wants to punch something or throw something.
Instead she slams a hand down on her desk, twists and hisses before shoving her chair back and standing up fast enough she nearly upends it; sending it rolling away until she moves to stop it from falling off the incline. She leaves it there to spin lazily as she resumes her circut of pacing, trying to work off at least the worst of the edge.
"Start at the beginning." His voice startles her and she whips around to face him, tensing when he's just right there behind her, fingers closing around her biceps. "Pick it apart right from the start, I don't care, just talk. I know you, if you don't work it all out you're going to crumble and everyone's depending on you."
(I thought you hated emotions? He'll muse later at her and much to her chagrin, she'll agree, returning to her old adage even if she knows she's still a mess.
They get in the way of logical thinking.)
For a long moment they stare at each other, his hands still on her and her entire being slowly trying to urge her to crawl out of her own skin. She clenches her jaw all over again, teeth pressing together until pain throbs up through them and into her skull, then she relaxes forcing it through every muscle until her head thumps against Kento's chest.
"Fine," she mumbles, teeth catching her bottom lip and sinking in briefly before she drags them back, letting the skin go with a long sigh. He's grounding and she realizes now how much she needed it, her hands lifting to gently push his away so she can step back. When she meets his eyes finally she already knows what he's thinking and she offers a jerking nod. She's fine, as fine as she can be.
They return to the couch and she sinks back against it, stretching her legs out and leaving her hands in her lap while her eyes return to her study of the ceiling.
-------
She's seven when it happens and it's a memory she carries with her like snapshots in a photo album. Gruesome candids she both wants to forget and wants to keep within reach so she always remembers what made her. She remembers sitting in her seat on the plane, head full of stories that Mrs. Hatano had told her and bleeding excitement from all the mysteries and riddles the older woman had set up for her to solve. Little Sara always loved holidays in Japan, loved getting to explore as much as she could and loved even more all the time her and Kento got to spend with Mrs. Hatano and their parents.
She has vauge memories before that, of more vacations and family dinners, of playgrounds and parks and school. They're happy memories full of color and laughter and life.
The trip back is fine at first, spent with her nose stuck in a book or talking or sleeping, giggling over silly things with Kento and annoying their mother in the seat next to them, their father giving them disapproving stares from the seat across the way until they settle back down for a longer nap.
They're jarred awake by turbulence and an announcement that they've hit a rough patch, it'll only be bumpy for a little bit until they clear the storm. She's still groggy, mind churning to register the words as Kento pats at her arm with urgency to get her to look out the window and see. She does and she doesn't like it, the clouds whirling around like the sea during a storm, rain battering the plane as lightning sparks off in the distance.
It quickly goes to hell then, the turbulence getting steadily worse, her mother telling them both to stop watching the storm, that it'll be okay. After that she doesn't remember much, a blur of fire and gravity, screaming and her mother holding onto them. It's a deafening mess that haunted her nightmares for years afterwards.
-------
She wakes up in the hospital days later with grim news out of her family only her and her brother survived. The news hurts, but with the loss comes a small amount of relief. Kento is still alive, she still has someone with her. While she recovers from her physical injuries the mental ones take longer and she finds it much easier to shut everything and everyone out.
They're forced to mature too fast, become adults before they're barely ten. Staring blank eyed and drained as their parent's bodies are put in the ground and friends of the family offer condolences and do whatever they can to help. In the end a member of their extended family takes them in, an aunt little Sara hardly remembers anymore as they try to resume life as they had.
For years it's a blend of therapy and school, Sara and Kento both living with the nightmares and Sara's growing dislike of screaming and yelling and noise; but therapy helps her learn to cope with at least some of it and let her live her life as normally as she could. She learns to function again because she has no choice, because sitting around and doing nothing drives her insane and she hates the feeling of emptiness that creeps up on her when she mourns.
-----
She's twelve when she finishes molding her new self and she likes it better. She's aloof and confident, throwing herself fully into her schooling and determined to learn as much as she can. People don't matter as much, seeing them and the other kids as just being there. She's not as polite as she used to be, but she's still polite enough the teachers don't yell at her and the other kids leave her alone when she wants to be left alone.
------
She's fifteen when she overhears a classmate talking about lock-picking and she learns the inside and out of how to do it and what types of tools are the best for it. The lock for her brother's room turns out to be the perfect thing to practice on and she figures out how to unlock it each time he changes it until he eventually gives up when he realizes all he's doing is enabling her to learn how to unlock more locks.
(It was great practice, she says with a self satisfied smirk. What was it you said 'better me then some poor neighbor?')
High-school bleeds into University and she takes class after class keeping high grades despite her rather flippant nature about it all. It's her second year that she settles in law having come to the conclusion it's what she's the absolute best at, but she studies still in the fringes between tests and projects, keeping every other skill she'd gathered sharp.
It was around the time she decided chocolate and coffee were the best combination that she settled into a group of people purely because sometimes classes required groups and this particular group annoyed her the least out of everyone she'd met outside of professors. Fortunately for her they found her forward, analytical nature at least tolerable. They worked together only when they had to and she was on her own the rest of the time.
(This is the first I'm hearing of this group. Kento interjects and Sherlock shrugs a shoulder, grimacing.
They weren't important, she replies, chin propped up on her palm. We just saw each other as means to an end. He smiles and she sees it out of the corner of her eye, frowning. Don't. I didn't have friends.)
Another year crawls past before she finally picks up her first case, overhearing a conversation about a missing boyfriend. It takes her about three seconds to figure out the most likely scenario and she leans over to casually interject: "He's probably cheating on you," she says, plainly, startling the group and bringing all the attention to her. "It makes the most sense, doesn't it? When was the last time you saw him, the last time you were intimate?" She waits for the shock and obvious mild offense to wear off before she gets her answers.
He hadn't been seen in a week, sparse texts and intimacy had all but been forgotten about for at least two weeks before. At this point it was all but obvious to her, annoyance settling in the back of her mind when her opinion was swiftly denied more than once. So instead she gathers more information and leaves the conversation with a silent vow to find out the truth purely because the absolute certainty made her cringe.
She almost feels bad for the poor woman.
Almost.
Sure enough it takes her the afternoon to hunt the guy down and come to the exact conclusion she had originally intuited, what she doesn't expect to uncover is the drug deal and the subsequent mess that it involves.
She hands it over to the police and leaves it at that.
It ends about as well as she anticipated and she shrugs when the now ex-girlfriend comes to talk to her. It all earns her a bit of noteriety and she takes up the side hobby of helping people out with things that interest her or at least giving a base analysis on things that don't. Everyone at least deserved a little information, it was up to them what to do with it. If they couldn't see what was in front of them, it wasn't worth it for her.
---
She's fresh out of University when she catches an entirely different kind of case, no cheating boyfriends or missing pets. No students up to sordid things the university sweeps under the rug to keep their reputation after quietly expelling them. Instead it's a murder on her street, one that both her and Kento have the pleasure of stumbling across when they're on their way to breakfast. Fortunately the usual crowd of gawkers and press hasn't arrived yet but she can only guess they'll be descending soon enough the later it gets.
"Hey," one of the officers calls as they're turning to head back causing both of them to stop and her to look over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You're that kid who busted the drug ring a few years back aren't you? What'd they call you?" She frowns, looking back at her brother before casually swiveling around to face them.
"Sherlock," she says, smiling. It was a nickname her parents had called her, playing off her name and her ability to simply unlock the secrets of any mystery placed in front of her. It had made sense to her, way back when, that her new self needed a new name. That and it had been a little easier for people to remember than her full childhood name, even if she had to use it throughout school.
The officer nods and turns away to look at the others with him. "What do you make of this?" She already knows he shouldn't even remotely be asking a civilian but she can't help herself and wanders over to the police tape, then around the perimeter of it taking in every detail she can from her vantage point. Kento, for his part, leans against a light-post nearby and contents himself to watch likely to make sure she doesn't do anything she shouldn't.
Like break the law more than they technically already were.
"He was stabbed," she says finally, squinting slightly at the body. "Sloppily, the perp was rushing. Wallet?" Her gaze flicks up to the officers and one nods, holding up a bag. "Money? Credit cards?" Another nod. "That rules out robbery, then." A crime of passion, drunken rage? If the perp was drunk it would certainly make sense why the body was in the condition it was. "The murder weapon is probably in a dumpster nearby, or in the storm drain." She adds after a moment, rocking back on her heels. "You should take a look into the victims friends and family, check out the bars he frequented. If I had to guess he and someone he was with got a little too drunk, got into a fight and he ended up on the losing end."
She finishes her circuit of the scene, easing her way back over to where Kento stood. A part of her wanted to remain as involved as she could be, but she knew that wouldn't happen until she either joined the police force herself -- unlikely -- or made much more of an impression.
"Alright," the officer from before says. "Thanks, kid. You going to join the force? You're pretty observant."
"I think I'd rather consult," she replies, thumping Kento on the shoulder. "He's the one all involved in law and politics. It's more his thing than mine, I prefer to look at things from far outside the box." With a flick of her hand she heads off, Kento easily falling into step beside her.
"You're gonna end up with everyone coming to you for help again if you're right," He remarks, lightly elbowing her in the arm as they walk. "At least you'll never be bored again."
"Of course I'm right," she shoots back, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm always right."
She was, in fact, correct, finding out later that the perp was a friend and he and the victim had had a rather bad falling out. He'd been arrested and charged with murder.
------
They stay like that in London for a few more years, Kento climbing his way up the ladder while Sara, now much more well known as 'Sherlock' continues to consult randomly for various strange cases -- and some far more mundane lest she grow too bored when she wasn't picking up random hobbies -- until her brother picks up a job offer in Japan.
Sherlock hasn't been on a plane since their parents died and the very idea of it reopens supposedly closed wounds, digging cold claws into her veins and making her anxious and claustrophobic. She has no intention of staying in London, no reason, not now that her brother decided to accept the job and asked if she wanted to come along. She knows he doesn't want to go alone either, knows that they both reopened previously hidden scars.
He doesn't say it'll be okay, but she chooses to try to believe it will be anyway.
-----
It's how she ends up on Mrs. Hatano's doorstep again, Kento having been whisked off by his new employers almost immediately after they'd landed, leaving her to fend for herself. It's not her first time in Tokyo and while things have certainly changed, they're familiar enough she still finds her way. It brings back memories, a faint smile tugging at the edges of her lips as she reaches out to ring the bell and step back, ignoring the rain drizzling down on her as she waits.
She wasn't expected, of course, and Mrs. Hatano is a mix of surprised and happy to see her, fawning over how much she'd grown and how handsome she'd gotten. She doesn't say much of anything as the older woman ushers her in, letting her talk about anything and everything while she listens and swallows the wave of nostalgia down.
"What brings you to Japan?" The question takes her off guard for a second, interrupting her smattering of thoughts, bringing her attention from the window to the older woman.
"Kento got a job here, I followed. Needed a change of scenery and you know he likes to keep an eye on me, keep me out of trouble." Or in some cases, get her into it since even he occasionally needed her opinion on something. "I need a place to stay," she adds, staring at her feet.
"I'd love to have you, I have plenty of space that I'm not using. Feel free to make yourself at home."
So she does in more than one way.
----
"You really did make yourself at home here," Kento says once she falls silent, heaving a sigh. "You and Wato both." She stills at the sound of the name, her eyes flicking to the chair the other woman usually occupied. It takes her too long this time to swallow down the pain that knots in her chest and she lifts a hand, pressing it to her face.
"Like it or not she's changed you," he continues and she stares at him out of the corner of her eye, frowning. He's right, she knows he's right. Wato walking into her life turned everything upside down, made her routine different, forced her to get used to someone in her space almost constantly and at first she hated it, hated the fact that Wato was always there underfoot and asking stupid questions instead of looking. It drove her mad when the other woman stalled her or reprimanded her or so casually took over from her line of questioning.
But she grew to depend on her regardless of what she thought, regardless of making it her life's mission to make Wato regret her choice. She came to care about her even if she denied it at every turn. She made choices she normally wouldn't have, did things she normally wouldn't, solved cases with just a slightly different method all because of Wato being there at her side.
Wato grounded her, drew her back in when she got strung out to far, soothed her when she got too frustrated. Wato offered emotion and empathy while Sherlock offered facts and logic.
Two halves of a whole.
Her friend, Her partner. Her--
"I'll get her back."