Slowly, I opened the door as I struggled with my school bag and PE kit to enter the hallway and take the key out of the lock. Placing them down on the floor, my memory flicked back to the dickheads on the bus. Knocking on the window so I looked up and then pointing and laughing at me... I chuckled to myself as to what would happen if I told John. Thinking of him, I took my bags and bounded up the stairs as best I could, and that is, not very well.
Opening the door to the lounge, the only sound greeting me was the creak of the door. Oh, I thought, John must have popped down to the shops. I dumped my bags on the floor, assuring myself I'd pick them up later, and went through to the kitchen to make myself a brew, when I heard yet again that awfully strange silence. I cautiously put the teaspoon back in my mug, and went almost creepingly towards John's bedroom. I peered through both the keyhole, and the crack between the wall and the door, above, below and in between the hinges. After assuring that it was safe, the white but faded door was edged open, bit by bit, as I carefully entered the room.
Immediately, I set to scan the room for anything that could show something being amiss. It didn't take me long before I saw something that confirmed my concerns: John's phone. Abandoned on the bedside cabinet. That was unlike John, he kept his phone on him at all times, even when he was just going round the house in case of emergency. This made me shiver immediately, and I grabbed the phone: there are many things you can tell of your last 5 calls or so. I searched; nothing out of the ordinary. Except, perhaps, a few more calls to his therapist, but that can be expected after such an... 'incident'. Nevertheless I pocketed the phone and left the bedroom.
With my heart beginning to race, and adrenaline beginning to fuel, I rapidly searched the room for any other giveaways. After unfortunately finding nothing, I grabbed his phone and made sure mine was on me before I sprinted down the stairs and through the front door, with only seconds to spare a glance at a confused and rather dazed Mrs Hudson who stood in the hallway.
Instantly I knew where I was going first: St Barts. I thought about hailing a cab, but I couldn't see any coming. Without informing my head that this was what I'd planned, my body swung round and began to run in the direction of the hospital. There were people looking at me awkwardly; an limping teenager attempting to run down the street isn't what most people expect; nevertheless I was determined with phone in hand to reach St. Barts. I re-adjusted the Nokia N97 every time it begun slipping out of my hand, but within 5 minutes I was descending down into Euston tube station.