I'm sorry for bad grammar, spelling mistakes etc. English is not my first language, but I gave my best. Please, if you've got the time, tell me every mistake I made or give suggestions for improvement. I know, I ask for much, but I would be really happy about it! :)
Chapter One
Beep. Beep.
Sherlock heard Watson's alarm clock, although he was downstairs in the kitchen, standing with the back to the fridge. He knew well, nothing was in it, and he expected Watson to be in a bad mood. She hated the circumstances he lived in, but there was no way he would change anything. At last, this was his house, and it wouldn't be that long until she would be gone again.
He blinked, focused on the morning light which broke through the window and highlighted Sherlock's hand. The clock on his arm made a ticking noise, like every second, monotone, on and on. 499 seconds from the sun to the earth for light. 299 792 458 meter per second. Ultraviolet. X-rays. Gamma rays. Visible and invisible parts. Some things the human eye could see. And some things that should never be seen. Just like him. The clock ticked again. The second was over.
Sherlock stayed silent, moved a bit to the right, watched outside a window. Even in the early morning, there were many cars driving along the Baker Street. Tick.
GHU2253: Black Mercedes.
BJE9677: Red Volvo, the right flood light was slightly damaged, there was round dent in it, which wasn't just near the light but continued, not deep, how a fresh one would have been, but hidden under a new film of color and corrections. Obviously, the driver hit a lantern, and he didn't want anyone to notice. He was proud of his car, a family father with two, no, three children. Exactly this car was praised in a TV show for being family friendly with his large back bank. No New Yorker, and he was one, only see the license tag, would buy a large car if there was a smaller, more agile one, and this was the case here. Tick.
Sherlock sighted. On some days his head seemed to explode because it was so full of thoughts. Today was nothing, he was bored and he truly wished that Watson would hurry on a bit. At the earliest, she would be ready in a half hour. Sherlock thought about how long she always needed to choose her clothes. He didn't see the problem, as long as people were wearing something, everybody was fine with it. (When he was really little, not older than three years and not capable to interpret social conventions, he learned his lesson.) By now, he chose his clothes by purpose. What exactly was interesting about which of two pieces of cloth someone was wearing?
Slowly, he poked around the rooms, waiting for the silent sound of water on the shower floor and then the noises when it ran through the pipes. Watson took her time, even 12 seconds longer than usual. When the sounds finally reached his sensible ears, he went upstairs to her bedroom. In front of her closet, he stopped, opening the doors slowly, first the right one, then the other.
He picked a dark blue cardigan he has never seen before on her and a simple white shirt. When he threw them both about his arm, something fell out the cardigans pocket. It was of rumbled paper which has been fold and unfold many times. But it was heavier than a piece of paper should have been. During one second, he had unfolded it and held the thing in his hand. It was a small silver bracelet, having three charms.
A moon. A sun. A heart.
"Forever." the note said.