Who. Alana King + Juliet Pierce. What. The good doctor takes a damaged detective home. Where. Juliet's flat. When. A month ago today. Warnings. TBA.
Things were never simple for Sherlock Holmes. How could they be, really? In a world where one could read between every line, there was little left unseen.
Before Sherlock entered the life of our Alana King, however, she lived with a condition similar to this. She saw what others couldn't see. It was the one thing she refused to see that got her locked up in a room for three years. She thought about it often — the reason her life ended up the way that it did. Rehashing, viewing things from another angle. It didn't matter what she did, there was nothing that could be undone. Once ended, it was rare that things could begin again. This was not the truth in the case of reincarnation.
Alana never believed she was destined for leave from Bethlem. Nor did she believe that deep down within her DNA, she was to eventually come to be known as the greatest, fictional detective of all time. Things were changing for Alana, and while she wasn't the source of the change itself, she was finally able to embrace some kind of normality again. If, of course, talking to yourself was normal. Which, in Alana's life, it was.
She had never once met Juliet Pierce. They never brushed shoulders on the street or saw one another briefly across the way at the station. Alana had a thing for faces. While she was less than wonderful at pinpointing a person's character, she knew rather immediately that Juliet was earnest. There was something in her that was both caring and tender. Not to mention nervous. People treaded carefully around Alana; as caring as she was, Alana imagined, she would be the same for some time.
Her home was welcoming, but it made Alana feel alien. Somewhat nostalgic, without longing for any place in particular. Upon entering, she wandered through every room without a word. She pursed her lips, looking through cabinets and drawers. Poking her head in and understanding the layout without a second glance. Her return came in the form of her sitting on the cushions of Juliet's sofa, her body tense.
She quirked a brow, looking up into the reincarnation of the doting Dr. Watson. "It's small."