221B
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the affiliated characters or ideas--their creator is the remarkable Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
KS: Hullo, this is for KCS's 221B challenge. I'm on the bandwagon now, too! I did this while brainstorming the next chapter of On the Streets of Paris, so I'm not wasting time. xD
Enjoy!
I lay in my bed, my lips cracked and dry. I refused the water so near to my bed. I could feel myself dying of dehydration. Three days was the limit for a normal man without fluid…This was the day things had to be done.
I hadn't eaten in three days, either, which wasn't such a difficult thing normally…but without tobacco to kill the appetite, it was much, much more difficult.
And how I wanted a smoke!
But I could not have one.
Mrs. Hudson was good enough to fetch Watson; I hear them upon the stair. I made myself look as miserable as possible. I groaned listlessly with pain as my dearest friend entered. I felt quite poor, and with the makeup and weight loss, I knew I looked frightful. I saw the worry strike Watson's countenance.
"Stay away! For God's sake, stay away!" I cry.
My friend obeys. I tell him to wait. At six I will explain what I wish him to do. He thinks me delirious, as is well, but he waits.
He is bored, and wanders the room. He goes to my mantelpiece, sees the dread item, and his hand reaches out to take up the curiosity.
My heart nearly stops. A flash of fear sears through me.
"For God's sake, Watson!! Don't touch that box!!"
KS: Thanks for reading, please, review!