Chapter 15
Shortly after her T-Cells dropped below 200, Michelle called her maternal grandmother with an odd question.
“I need a favor, kind of a big one.”
“Of course, darling, anything you need!” Amelia Monroe would quite literally stop the world spinning on its axis if her granddaughter asked her to. After losing her daughter, Michelle had become Amelia’s top priority.
“I need a bone marrow transplant, would you get tested to see if you’re a match?”
~~~
“It’s essentially the same thing they did in Berlin in 2008,” Michelle explained as Sherlock read over her treatment notes. “A bone marrow transplant followed by a stem cell transplant.”
“It is wildly risky and has never been attempted on anyone with a viral load as high as yours or a T cell count as low.” Sherlock's hand was shaking almost imperceptibly but he was certain Michelle noticed.
“It was a sanitising cure, Uncle Sherlock,” Michelle argued. “I could be cured, truly cured. No more medicine, no more checking my T cells. I could just be healthy. I could have a normal life!”
“Or you could die.”
“I’m going to die if I don’t do it, Uncle Sherlock. At least this gives me a shot.”
~~~
It was an unseasonably warm evening when Amelia Monroe arrived unannounced at her granddaughter’s home. Her frenzied knocking quickly summoned someone to the door, but it wasn’t who she was looking for.
“Oh, hello,” she sputtered, “I’m sorry, I haven’t the slightest idea who you are.”
“I’m Katie?” The girl replied, staring up at Amelia with a look of confusion.
“Katie, darling, who is it?” Mycroft appeared over the girl’s shoulder, his face falling as he recognized the woman. “Oh, Amelia, what’s going on?”
“Did we wreck another home, Mycroft?” Amelia smiled warmly at the younger man, who put forth a valiant effort to hide his eye roll.
“Katie, go check on how your dad is getting on in the kitchen, alright.” The girl scampered off and Mycroft fixed his daughter’s grandmother with a firm glare. “What do you need, Amelia?”
“Really, Mycroft, the least you can do is invite me in!” Mycroft sighed, stepping aside and allowing the woman in. “That’s better,” she tutted. “Now, I’m looking for Michelle. She was supposed to meet me at the hospital today for a final round of tests before the bone marrow transplant.”
Amelia watched as Mycroft’s eyes unfocused and his breath caught in his throat. She stepped forward, putting her hand on his shoulder.
“Mycroft, are you alright?”
“What time,” Mycroft breathed, “was she supposed to meet you?”
“Two o’clock, why?” Mycroft glanced at the clock on the wall, practically begging his internal clock to be wrong. Of course it wasn’t. Michelle had been out of contact for three hours. He forced himself to ignore the words ‘bone marrow transplant’, that was one more crisis than he could deal with at that moment.
He had to find Michelle.