A Scandal in Belgravia: Chapter 5

                                    

                                          
You laid in bed gazing blankly at the ceiling with your arms laid out flat over your blanket. You fussed trying to find a comfortable way to lay. When you couldn't find one, you gave up, deciding that the wall was interesting enough. You looked ahead at the wall and words kept repeating over and over in your head about Irene Adler. Then images of the red lipstick mark on the corner of Sherlock's lips appeared in front of you and you rolled your eyes turning over in bed.
                          
You knew that you were being unreasonable, but you couldn't help it! That bothered you. You thought back to before you got kidnapped and turned to your bed stand, grabbing your phone. You dialed a number, sighing as it rang.
                          
"Hello?" A raspy, tired voice answered. You sat up, pondering it a second before continuing.
                          
"Hey, Mark. It's Y/n, so I-"
                          
"Y/n! How are you?! You haven't been in touch with me since you told me you got shot!" His tired voice instantly sounded awake, you couldn't help but wonder why he was so interested in you.
                          
"I'm fine, but listen. Remember when you said Sherlock should come to my next appointment with me? Well, can I schedule that?" You pressed the phone harder to your ear as you tapped your toes on the ground below you.
                          
"Of course! I'm free tomorrow afternoon around 3:00, you could come in then?" You leaned back into the bed, again looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't help but wonder why Dr. McClendon was so nice to you and why he even made time for your situation. You appreciated that.
                          
"Sounds good to me. See you then." You were about to hang up, when you bit your lip, pulling the phone back up towards your ear. "Hey... so can I talk to you about something? It's neurological, I would like your opinion." Mark obviously agreed and you laid in bed talking to him about your annoyance with Sherlock and John. You mentioned PTSD as well, hoping Mark could tell you more about it and possibly tell you it wasn't anything like the other doctors had thought. You both talked for a few hours before you cut off the conversation, finally ready to go to bed. You sat your phone aside, pulling your covers up to your chin before you drifted off to sleep.
                          
***
                          
The next morning you woke up from a commotion coming from upstairs. You groaned, shoving your head under a pillow, not wanting to think about Sherlock at the moment. You could hear their soft conversation, and you could tell that there were quite a few people up there. More than just John and Sherlock. You eventually heard someone making their way down the stairs and jumped up after you recognized their footsteps. You raced towards the door and yanked it open to be met with Mycroft about to leave.
                          
"Mycroft! About Irene Adler-"
                          
"Irene Adler is no concern of anyone but mine now. Sherlock is off the case, and you were never supposed to know anything about it." He said plainly, his umbrella in a death grip between his fingers. You scanned him, noticing his irritation.
                          
"Okay, fine. But she-" Mycroft held up a hand to stop you as he turned away. You watched him go with a slightly shocked expression. That was rather unexpected. What had happened with Irene? 
                          
You heard the faint playing of the violin coming from upstairs and knew Sherlock was annoyed with Mycroft. Which meant he didn't want to be taken off her case... he wanted more to do with her even after she had drugged him. You ran up the stairs two at a time before you burst into Sherlock's flat.
                          
"We have an appointment with Dr. McClendon at 3:00 today. I hope you'll come." You simply told Sherlock before turning away to go back down to your flat.
                          
"Wait!" You heard Sherlock's playing stop as he quickly set aside his violin. You turned back to look at him as he paced towards you. "Are you alright? Did you take your medication? Why didn't you stay here last night?" He blurted out questions while you stood, watching him with a bored expression.