Johnny Blue-Eyes

Epilogue: Something good on a Tuesday

On Tuesday morning, Donovan dragged herself into work ten minutes late, with cold coffee down the front of her blouse and a bruise on her elbow from being squished into the side of the tube car by a large man with a body odor problem. Tuesdays sucked arse.

When she got to her desk, she noticed something strange, but in her addled state it took her a moment to realize what it was. When she had left on Monday evening, her desk had been cluttered with papers and files haphazardly stacked into messy piles. Now, however, all of the papers had been assembled into tidy stacks and her desk was clear save one file, which was neatly placed in the center of the surface. On top of the file sat a small white box tied with a blue ribbon.

Donovan stood for nearly a full minute gazing gormlessly at the box. What was it? Was it a threat? Suspicious package? It wasn't big enough for a severed head a la Se7en, but did it contain the severed finger of a loved one? Probably not, as her only "loved one" was her brother Alex, and he had had all his digits intact the previous evening when she met him for dinner.

She glanced around the room and saw that all her fellow officers were quietly working away at their desks. No one was paying the slightest attention to her. Constable Fadil was leaned back in his chair with his feet on his desk and his keyboard on his lap, absorbed in paging through images from what appeared to be security footage.

"Constable?"

Fadil straightened up in apparent alarm. "Yeah? I mean, yes ma'am?"

"Did you see anyone messing with my desk?"

"No, ma'am; it was like that when I came in."

"Oh."

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine. Never mind." Dropping gracelessly into her chair, Donovan resumed her inspection of the box. Made of white tagboard, no marks on it that she could see, no smudges or writing of any kind. She leaned in and listened, but heard nothing. The box measured only about five centimeters tall and wide. She didn't see how it could be dangerous. Carefully she picked it up and shook it cautiously, and heard a slight rattling sound, like metal on metal.

Donovan pulled gently on the ends of the ribbon and the knot came undone. Dropping the ribbon, she cautiously removed the lid and inside she discovered a familiar sight: her Saint Monica pendant, strung on a shiny new silver chain. She quickly covered her gasp of surprise with a cough.

With trembling fingers, she pulled the necklace from the box and rubbed her thumb down the smooth, expensive chain and over the familiar folds of the saint's dress. She had difficulty managing the clasp, and once she finally got it hooked around her neck, the new chain felt cold and strange against her skin.

She picked up the box and inspected it again for identifying marks, but found none. When she went to set it back down on the desk, her eyes fell on the file folder that had been under it. It was one of hers—she recognized her handwriting in the case number scrawled on the tab. She flipped the folder open and saw a pair of familiar blue-green eyes looking back at her.

With her eyes misting over, she sat and stared at the little face: the mop of dark curls, soft baby cheeks, pink cupid's-bow lips pulled down into a fierce scowl. Brushing her thumb along the curve of his jaw, she decided not to think about how he might have come by the necklace, just to accept it for the gift it was.

"Thank you, Sherlock," she mouthed with a half-smile. Such a sweet little face, even with the sour expression. She would have to remember that face the next time he was being a complete dick. Might help her remember that even the freak had once been a little boy.

Donovan flipped the folder shut and laid it on top of the pile to be filed. Case closed. Sliding her fingers along the silver chain, which had warmed against her skin but still felt alien to her touch, she considered what might be next. Her eyes lit on the pile of "open case" folders on her desk, many that had been neglected for far too long. Hmm. . .

Or maybe Lestrade wanted help with his investigation of Edward Goldwater. The case included a high chance of having to work with Sherlock, but perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.

A/N: Thanks for reading! And a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I love to hear what you think!