For Want of a Brolly [Open]

[Harry Watson]

Harriet Watson was, let it not be forgotten, British. English to be precise, and had been born in London, spent most of her childhood living in London and now, caught in the throes of middle age, still lived in London. She knew her way around the city and knew how to find her way if she lost it. She knew little Indian cafés and quiet tearooms, knew clubs and bars and which to stay away from. She was a Londoner, and proud of it.

As such, she really ought to have expected the downpour.

As it were, however, it caught her completely by surprise and- as these things go- without an umbrella. Bugger. Harry did not usually carry an umbrella- for some reason, she had never liked them. She didn't care much for being soaked to the skin either, though, and frantically looked around for a place to wait in relative dryness for the return of the sun. After a mostly unsuccessful attempt to walk only under awnings- she only managed to get water dumped on her at their ends for her efforts- her eyes alighted at last on a coffee shop. Making a beeline for it, she managed to splash three puddles' worth of water up her legs in the process. Ugh.

She knew that she must look an absolute fright, but couldn't really manage to care- she simply burst into the place, reveled in the warm air, and ordered a coffee with the air of one dressed for dinner with the queen. She then retreated, triumphant, with her steaming mug. She chose a seat at a table in the window, the better to watch the harried and wet passers-by. 'Ah-hah.' she did not triumphantly exclaim, 'Though bedraggled, I am no longer one of you.' She debated popping off to the loo to assess the damages, but decided against it. She didn't really want to know. Instead, she sipped her coffee- still too hot, but she was starting to feel chilled despite the warm coffee shop air- and rifled through her handbag to see if its contents had survived. Sadly, the folder of papers she had been carrying had been reduced to a soggy mess- stifling a sigh of dismay, she set the papers on the table to dry. They were nothing interesting- just forms- but she really would rather not have to re-fill them out.

She leaned back in her chair, letting the hot, sweet caffeine lift her soggy spirits. The place was crowded- she hadn't been the only one with the bright idea of avoiding the rain- but she had missed the real rush; now, the queue was nearly at the door, and the place was running short of tables. Congratulating herself on a mess at least partly avoided, she settled in to wait for the sky to clear.

[Amy]

Living out the the streets of London was never easy but Amy coped. After all, she did have a fairly good boss considering that she was working under Sherlock Holmes. He may not be the nicest of men but she got paid by him and that was better than what she would get if he wasn't around. The money may not be much and it may not be frequent but the money that she was given meant a lot to the homeless girl. It allowed her to buy a warm meal and to not have to scavenge around for coins.

Of course, in recent times, Amy had met a nice woman called Kaz who had given her much more money than Mr Holmes and that meant that for the first time, Amy wasn't dressed in old second hand clothes. Today she wore jeans (although they were from a second hand shop they looked as good as new) and a t-shirt that she had actually brought from a new shop. The child had been intending on finding a good and durable jacket when the rain came on, pouring out of the sky and she looked up as the people hurried past. It would not be good to get her new clothes wet.

It was a long walk back to the place that the child called home so instead she hurried towards a coffee shop and ducked in, even though it was crowded. Making her way forwards to the front of the desk, Amy thought it was only fair to buy something if she was going to be staying here.
"Hey, can I have a slice of cake. The chocolate one?" Amy asked loudly, her cockney accent ringing clear as she spoke to the person serving. The child was used to having to attract attention.

The waitress cut a slice of cake and Amy paid for it, double checking that she was given the correct amount of money back (which she was) before pocketing the money.
"Thanks gov," She replied cheerfully, getting the cake and slipping easily through the crowds and looking for any spare spot. There was a spare seat by the window, sharing a table with another woman already soaked and Amy made a bee line over to it and sat down without asking if the chair was taken. She had become somewhat bold since meeting Kaz and was more willing to take advantages than before.

"Hey, ho!" She greeted, her accent still thick. "I 'ope you don't mind me sitting 'ere. Everywhere else is jam packed. This weather drives all of us inside, ain't it? Looks like your papers are worse for the wear, though. Tell you what, if you blow on them, they might dry quicker." Her voice was cheerful as she spoke before she fell silent to take a big bite out of the cake. It was very good, especially considering what she usually had to eat.
"Good cake 'ere." She commented, her mouth still mostly full of cake.