“But why?—”
“It didn’t work.” I closed my eyes against a wave of emotion, which was a mistake. All I could see in my self-imposed darkness was the look of terror Sadie wore in the drawing. Would I always remember her that way now? My “second sin,” it had said. My greatest sin. “I’ve already lost something precious to me because of that decision. I don’t need—” Lily started to move in front of me again, and I yanked her back to my side. “I don’t need you to make accusations as though you could ever understand what it meant for me to find my friend . . . like that.”
“Sadie Mae,” Lily said. “She was your friend?”
I let go of her arm. “I have somewhere to be, and you’ve already made me late. Believe me or don’t, but don’t call me again.”
She didn’t try to stop me from going downstairs this time, but she followed me, saying nothing all the way to the Hammersmith & City–line platform. She sat next to me, but I didn’t look at her. And when the train stopped at Paddington, she said, “I didn’t know she was your friend.”
I crossed my arms a little tighter around my chest. Then I looked the opposite way from where she sat and tried to think of anything but Sadie’s muddy shoe. Of the way her body refused to move, even to take a breath. Of the bruising around her neck. And when I finally looked back, Lily was gone, leaving her tattered bouquet behind to rest on the seat next to me.
? ? ?
I texted Lock when I reached the bottom of the concrete steps that led up to the hospital’s main entrance. It was already starting to get dark and I was exhausted, but I was there.
Where are you?
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, and when he didn’t reply, I figured he was either angry or on a ward that didn’t allow mobile phones. Either way, I’d have to find him on my own, which turned out to be much easier than I thought it would be. When I reached the top of the steps, I saw Lock sitting on a bench near the automatic glass doors. He was a rumpled mess of himself, his coat sliding off his shoulders, his mobile clutched to his chest, and his expression completely blank and staring across to the wall beyond.
When I got closer, I saw the cigarette in his fingers, slowly burning down so that half of it was already a tower of ash. I carefully sat beside him, but the slight shift of the bench didn’t attract his attention. I was starting to wonder if he even knew I was there at all.
“I’m late,” I said.
He waited a long time to speak. “Thank you,” he said, at last. Then nothing again for a long time, before he added, “Never mind being late.”
He still stared straight forward, and I knew this was where I should say something or do something comforting or helpful. I wanted to ask why we were there or what had happened to his mother—I assumed it was his mother. But I had hated that question when it was my mother in the hospital. “Is it worse?” they would ask, like they didn’t know what the word “terminal” meant. Like we’d be spending our days at a hospital if she were even the slightest bit improved.
I thought about reaching for his hand, but it still held a burning cigarette. I thought about just staying quiet, or even standing to leave, but he’d said he needed me. And for some reason I couldn’t read him that night. Maybe my confrontation with Lily had thrown me off.
“You should go in,” I said at last. When he didn’t reply or make any movement toward leaving, I asked, “What if there’s news of your mother’s condition?”
“Mycroft will call me with news.”
“What if she wants to see you?” I listened to the quiet sizzle of his next drag and his slow exhale, then watched as all the built-up ash was flicked to the ground. He never answered me. “You should go in.”
“Will you go home if I do?”
“I don’t have to go.”
He didn’t move or speak, even after he’d finished his cigarette and put it out on the ground.
I tried again. “You should—”
“I need you. I can’t go in, because I need you.”
I sat with that for a few seconds before I asked, “Tell me what to do?”
Sherlock lit another cigarette, but this time he took it from his mouth with the hand that held his mobile, so I quickly reached across the space between us to wrap my fingers around to his palm. He flinched a bit, but his expression softened when he glanced down at our hands. Then he looked back to the wall, and I thought maybe we’d just sit in silence, but he said, “Like this. Today, this is exactly how I need you.”