I paused just a second before ending the call. “Thanks, Alice.”
I thought I heard an amused grunt before she hung up. And for some reason her insistence that I text her made me think of the way Alice snatched my phone from the officer’s hand in the police station lobby the day before.
This phone is in my name, she’d said.
Which meant she could probably find it using my GPS if she was really determined. I tapped into my settings and turned off the GPS. Just to be safe. Then I took one last look back at our house, sure that I’d never see it again, and I forced myself to turn the corner away from Baker Street.
? ? ?
By the time I got to Gloucester Place, my whole body ached so badly I was ready to stay at the first hotel I could find. I tripped up a set of stairs into an inn with a white and gold entryway. It looked posh enough for the staff to mind its own business, but was still a retrofitted town house, so not a place that would have too many expectations of me. I managed a smile as I paid for three nights in cash and somehow made it to my room without faltering on the steps.
All I wanted was to fall face-first onto the white and silver linens of the bed, but I knew I would regret not taking care of my wounds. I undressed completely, bagging up my ruined, bloody clothes, then started a bath. While I waited for the tub to fill, I got the tweezers from the first-aid kit and reached back to pull out one off the embedded glass shards I could feel at my neck. The pain was so intense, I couldn’t help but whimper, and my plastic tweezers kept slipping on the blood.
I was out of breath by the time I pulled it free and wondered how in the world I’d manage the rest when a knock at the door made me freeze in place. I turned off the bath faucet and waited silently, thinking whoever it was would move along when they realized they had the wrong door. Then they knocked again.
I pulled a towel around me and crept toward the door.
“Mori. Let me in!”
I slid the chain lock into place and opened the door just far enough to see Sherlock out in the hall. “How in the world are you here?” I asked in a loudish whisper.
“Let me in and I’ll tell you.” He looked over both shoulders, scanning the hall.
“Tell me and I’ll let you in,” I countered.
Lock made a face and crossed his arms. “The longer I am out in the hall, the more likely someone will recognize me.”
I clenched my jaw as I closed the door to undo the chain for him. The minute I opened the door, his arms were around my neck. Thankfully, he was gentle in his embrace.
“I told you what would happen if you didn’t answer your phone.”
I maybe should have pushed him off me and out the door, but it felt so good to be held by someone, I didn’t want to move. Not until I remembered that he shouldn’t have known where I was. I pushed against his chest to face him, despite the aching protest of my entire body. “How did you find me?”
He smiled in that way that meant he was about to describe how clever he’d been. “I called Jason Kim to track your phone.”
“But I turned off the GPS.”
Lock nodded. “Yes, but Jason’s app meant he was able to turn it back on remotely.”
I cursed, and rushed over to where I’d set my phone on the bedside table. I disabled the GPS again and then deleted Jason’s bloody app off my phone for good. I stared down at the bedside table and sighed. “You’re not the only one who’ll think to use that, Sherlock—”
Before I could finish his name, his arm slid around my middle, to hold me still. His other hand brushed gently over the still-bleeding wound at my neck.
I tried to wave him off me and break free of his hold. “I’ll be fine.”
Sherlock held me tighter to him, pressing his hand over my hip, so that my legs gave way and I winced at the pain of it. He quickly adjusted his grip, and held his now bloodstained fingers out in front of me.
“Don’t speak.” He paused, as though he was trying to compose himself, then said, “I’m not asking for the story of how you got this way. I’m not asking why you are here instead of at your home or at the hospital. And I’m not asking if I can stay or not.”
“Lock . . .” I turned to face him, but even the barest glance at his expression and all my protests withered away. I’d seen Sherlock full of passion and determination, facing down adventure and even a bit of danger, but I’d never seen him as resolute as he was right then.
“I’m staying,” he said. And all I could do was nod and keep very still, as he painted me with his gaze, taking in every injury he could see. His hand brushed over my hip, where blood was staining through the towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I let him lead me over to sit on the edge of the bathtub while he prepared all the supplies. I didn’t make any noise when he started plucking glass shards from my back, not even when it hurt so bad I thought I might bite through my lip.