The Uninvited [OPEN]

[Cyrus Sherlock]

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[bg=262626] 311 words Normal - Speech - Thought The air was getting colder, each breath taken leaving a puff of smoke on the wind. Leaves had fallen, turned their reddish hues that accompanied the autumn. Things were beautiful, perfect, serene. Except for Cyrus. The middle Sherlock child was distressed as he relaxed on a bench in the park, listening to the chatter of teenagers who passed and parents who played with their children. Nothing seemed right to him. His sister, his beloved Lucia, was growing up. Soon, she'd be a woman. Soon, she wouldn't need her brothers anymore. And what was he left with? She was still in the god forsaken wheelchair, something that restricted her from living. As far as he knew, she hadn't even had a boyfriend. Oh geeze, if she'd had one. Cyrus snorted at the thought. Not only would the boy be watched, he was sure Dean would pulverize the kid. The man didn't blame him; his older brother wasn't as subtle as he was. A fist to the face gave the same impression as whispered words behind someone's back, but Cyrus preferred the latter. It saved him an assault suit, and calmed his nerves. So did his hobbies, though. His camera, still attached to his hand, clicked pictures of the grass and the sky as he lounged and thought of his baby sister. The shining star in the lives of the Sherlock men. Lucia was the redhead goddess of their lifetime, the only woman they really worshipped. His portfolios were filled with images of the teenager, in any stage of life and in any outfit. He had no modesty with her. The thoughts of her alone left his heart racing. It was strange, and unwelcome. His feelings shouldn't be so heavy when it came to his relatives, but they were. "Dammit." He sat up, casting another glance around the park in frustration. CYRUS SHERLOCK

[Lucia Sherlock]

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[atrb=background,http://i600.photobucket.com/albums/tt87/Tye-Lily/Site%20Pictures/Soulmate/lucimiddle1.png][atrb=width,407,true] School was done for the day, thank god. It wasn't as if Lucia didn't enjoy school; she did. But it had been a very long week. She had missed an assignment deadline, had two large tests, been given another group project, and earlier in the day had been run into, and flown from the seat of her wheelchair. That was fun. Idiots needed to learn to walk. She sighed, her bag balancing on her knees as she wheeled herself home. She had no problem 'walking' home, per say, especially since her brother's were so busy. She was just in a foul mood. The day was nice, despite the cold air. She had bundled up in a jacket that morning, one of Dean's old ones. It was navy blue, with a few rips and tears here and there, but still quite warm. Plus it gave her the added comfort of knowing she had her brother's. Especially since Cyrus had graduated the year before, she no longer went to school with him. Lucas would be out of school next year too, but she wasn't exactly sure where he was. She stopped for a moment, running her fingers through her red hair. The wind was making it go in all sorts of weird directions, and she half debated putting it back in an elastic. The fact that she didn't have one though made the decision quite clear, and she continued on. She passed the convenience store, pausing for a moment, and then pushing herself to the door, and swinging it open. Luci entered the store, glancing around for a bit before finding what she was looking for. She grabbed the sour keys, paying for them and then stuffed the bag in her knapsack. The air was chilly upon her return, and she pulled the jacket around her a bit more for warmth. She was almost home by the time she reached the park, and she would have kept going if she hadn't spotted Cyrus sitting alone on a bench. Blinking and quirking an eyebrow, she turned, moving towards him. "Cy?" she called out as she approached him.

[Cyrus Sherlock]

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[bg=262626] 262 words Normal - Speech - Thought He hated the lack of things to do during the day. He couldn't stand not being in school, not having something to do, not being with his sister. He could care less if he had to deal with the boy Sherlocks on the block, but he didn't like that Lucia was on her own. She can handle herself was a sentiment he told himself often, to try and rest his uneasy mind. He knew she could. He knew she was tough, she was smart, she was wonderfully wonderful. He just liked to be needed. Cyrus realized his scarf wasn't warding against the cold when a particularly fierce breeze caused a ridge of goosebumps to appear on his sleeved arms that made him set down the camera that was all but attached to his hands during the daytime (and sometimes at night). He should have brought a jacket. Why hadn't he? That answer was easy. None of his jackets matched the shirt he decided he was wearing, and as lax as he was on his physical appearance, his clothing was not up for debate when it came to matching and looking nice. As he cursed himself for wanting to look nice, he didn't notice the wheelchair as it started to pass. He didn't notice the voice that called out to him, or the shape that was approaching, until it was within inches. He twisted his head up sharply, surprised. "Luci. School over already?" He checked his watch with a frown; had it been 8 hours since she left that morning? CYRUS SHERLOCK