"Sherlock."

There sat a girl. Rather pitiful, really, wrapped in weighing blankets, panting in her own obsession. The lights were all off, and only the television light flickered throughout the room and on her unblinking face. She had squealed the name as he did a rather handsome hair ruffle through the screen.

She was alone in her apartment, curled into a futon mattress that doubled as he bed. A crazed giggle slipped her lips, as she practically wiggled in her own hysteria, unconditional love for this fictional character. Her hands ran up her face as her innards squeezed and she squealed.

Crack.

She froze. Her once elated face dropped into a puddle on the ground. She squinted, confusion lacing her skin into icy goosebumps despite the blankets. She rose into a more flexible position, a half-crouch. Her eyes stared incredulously at the cracked television screen.

Crack.

It was like someone was stepping on broken ice. The screen's flickering image paused throughout various scenes that were not in the order she recognized. A high-pitched cry fell from her mouth as the screen went dark. An eerie silence filled the air as she sat in complete oblivion, only able of listening to her television's ominous cracking.

Crack.

Crack.

The girl had been holding her breath, waiting for whatever was to come. She exhaled in relief, realizing how silly she was, pushing away all the imagined terrors that had sprung into her mind.

She truly should have waited a few moments. The girl screamed bloody murder, only to be cut off when her breath was knocked out of her. For a split second, the television flicked with light, but it quick blinked out, as if someone had snapped their fingers. A rush of air swept through the room. She lashed out violently against the tornado-like winds.

She could hear her belongings smashing in the direction of her television. Gasps left her mouth as she scrambled to grab onto something, all the while her items rammed into her. She felt the crack of glass against her head- her grandmother's vase, an expensive one, at that. The clink of silverware rattled somewhere from inside the kitchen.

The girl cried in terror, but she couldn't escape the grasping winds. Her blankets were sucked away like a vacuum, leaving her blindly grasping for something to hold onto. She ducked into the futon, but she felt it being tilted towards the source of the forceful air current.

Things she could not see swirled around her, all the while her screaming did not come to an end. That is, of course, until the television swallowed her up, leaving an empty house in its wake.

~ᏕᏂᏋᏒᏝᎧፈᏦ ᏂᎧᏝᎷᏋᏕ~