Killer Birthday Party
God he better be awake, I think as I turn the corner to his room. I knock on his door twice. Silence.
"God damn it Sherlock! It's nearly nine o'clock! You better be awake or so help me Go-"
"Quite down John," Sherlock says, as the door swings open on his dusty bedroom. "For goodness sake, I'm awake."
"Good. Have you ordered the cake yet?" I start walking to the living room and think to myself, He better have ordered the cake. It was the only thing I asked him to do.
"Placed the call a half-hour ago. Why are you so invested in this? It's very unlike you," he inquires. He places the violin on his bed and follows John to the living room.
Relief ran through my body and I felt my face relax. I didn't know my face was tense. "How is this unlike me? It's Mrs. Hudson's birthday! We must celebrate it. You know we must."
"Of course I know we must celebrate it, John. I'm just curious as to why you're so invested in Mrs. Hudson's birthday, when you failed to show the slightest bit of interest in the Woodward case last week." He moves towards his chair and squints at the paper resting on the table next to it. He then looks up and crosses his arms.
"I showed interest. What are you talking about?" I move closer to the window and peer out.
"Exactly. There it is right there. You don't care!"
"Sherlock, what are you talking about?" I turn to face him. He's wearing his freshly ironed trousers and new grey top. Would you look at that. He listened to me. Well that's the first.
"God John, do I have to inform you of everything? When I brought up the Woodward case I crossed my arms."
Oh no. He's getting that look. "I can see tha-"
Walking towards me Sherlock continues, "But you moved and turned to look out the window."
"Sherlock," I sigh, "why is this important? Mrs. Hudson's-"
"You don't care."
"Of course I do. But I have priorities, Sherlock. Something you should learn to do. It'll be good for you." I cross the room and enter the kitchen. God the kitchen is a mess. I walk to the fridge and hear Sherlock's quick steps follow me.
"You don't want to open the that," Sherlock insists.
"Sherlock, why on earth would I not want to open the fridge? It's nine o'clock on a Friday. Don't be ridiculous." Before Sherlock can say anything else I pull the heavy door open. My body reacts before my mind can process what I'm seeing.
"I told you not to open it," Sherlock says in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Sherlock," I whisper quietly as I turn to face him. All the busy thoughts running through my mind are now silent and all I can do is stare at Sherlock in disbelief.
"What? I did warn you."
I continue to stare at him. His face is contorted in a way that most people would mistake as apologetic. But I know him too well. I look into his eyes and find the emotion he's trying to hide, amusement.
"How long are you going to stand like that?"
I don't say anything.
"If you're going to stand like that would you mind closing the fridge door? I don't want the heads to go bad," he adds as if this is all normal.
I slowly turn back and glance once more into the fridge. My hand tightens around the cool steel handle of the fridge door as if in sync with my stomach. A hand reaches around my body and pushes the door closed. In an instant, my thoughts emerge from the once muted part of my mind. I turn to face him again. "Sherlock," I say calmly, "would you care to explain why there are two heads in the fridge?"
"They're for an-"
I cut him off. "I'm not finished yet. Would you also like to explain why Mr. Woodward's head is in our fridge?"
"I was going to tell you," he admits.
"When? When were you going to tell me there are two heads in our fridge? Hm? Before Mrs. Hudson's birthday party or after? Or better yet, were you going to tell me during her party? Because you know she and I would love that. Can you imagine? We're all sitting around the fire, drinking wine and having a grand ole' time and then you saunter over to us and exclaim 'I've go two heads in the fridge!' How fantastic would that be?" I exclaim sarcastically, my voice gradually getting louder and higher.
"It's for an-," he tries to respond.
I cut him off again. "An experiment?" I'm yelling now. "It's for an experiment?! God damn it, Sherlock!" I angrily walk back into the living room.
"After the Woodward case was closed I realized I've seen Mr. Woodward before," Sherlock confesses from behind me. He calmly sits in his chair.
"After the case was closed?" I continue to yell. "You realized after the case was closed that you've seen Mr. Woodward before?" Unbelievable.
"I can see how that might sound bad, but-"
"How that might sound bad?! Sherlock we spent a month on that case! You vowed to the police that you didn't know who Mr. Woodward was or where he lived! And now you have his head in our fridge! Mind you, we closed the case last week declaring that with all the evidence that you found that Mr. Woodward committed suicide somewhere in Epping Forest! Sherlock he was a wanted man!" I exclaim.
"I know." He mumbles.
"No I don't think you do. Mr. Woodward was a wanted man for treason! For God's sake Sherlock! He was a mole in British Intelligence!"
"That's actually not true. There is no evidence that proves Woodward was a mole in British Intelligence." He counters.
"Sherlock! Why are you still fighting that! The case is closed! Now call Lestrade and tell him you have Woodward's head. Where did you find the head anyway? You know what? I don't want to know. Just please fix it. I don't have time for this. People are coming in six hours for Mrs. Hudson's birthday."
"I can't call Lestrade!" Sherlock says, his voice beginning to echo mine.
"Sherlock! I don't have time for this!"
"Of course you don't! That's why I didn't tell you I have the heads in the first place!" He yells, his voice finally matching mine.
"You're unbelievable!" I walk to the couch taking in deep breaths. Deep breaths John, deep breaths. Everything will be okay. Think about the party. Think about the party. I begin to make a mental list of everything we need to do before six o'clock.
"If I call Lestrade with just the head, then we'll both be framed for the murder of Woodward and for lying to the police. I need evidence to prove he didn't commit treason. After I collect enough evidence then yes, I'll call Lestrade and tell him I have the head."
"For Christ's sake, Sherlock! If you don't call Lestrade then I will!" I yell.
"And tell him what? That I found the head in the forest by the river, gave him a quick look over and decided to chop his head off for an experiment that proves that the most wanted man in England is actually innocent?!" Sherlock shouts.
"You what?!"
There's a knock at the door.
"I'm sorry, you cut off his head?!"
Mrs. Hudson pops her head in through the doorway. "Hello? Boys? Is everything alright?"
Sherlock and I freeze. "Hello Mrs. Hudson. I see that you have come in without our permission once again." Sherlock says.
Her smile doesn't falter. "Mrs. Hudson!" I say with mock enthusiasm. "Happy birthday!"
"Why thank you John!" she laughed, oblivious to the tension in the room.
After a moment Sherlock clears his throat. "Mrs. Hudson, if you wouldn't mind, we were in the middle of something."
Utter disapproval washes over my face. It's this woman's birthday! How does he even have the audacity to say something like that to this poor woman! "Mrs. Hudson," I say warmly, "please excuse Sherlock. By all means, stay if you would like."
Still smiling Mrs. Hudson turns to walk out the door. "I would love to but I'm afraid I can't stay! I'm off to have an early brunch with Anne! Bless her soul!" She laughs as she closes the door.
"What an incognizant woman," Sherlock mutters under his breath.
"Excuse me? She's incognizant?" I respond, my voice going into a yell once more.
"What do you want me to do, John?" Sherlock asks, his tone matching mine. "That man wasn't the mole!" Now standing he points to the kitchen. "Let me prove it so his name can get cleared and we can solve the case."
"Fine, lets pretend you're right. What's going to stop the police from arresting us for the murder of James Woodward? Hm? Have you thought of that?" I can feel my face begin to flush.
"Don't be an idiot. We're not going to get arrested." He retorted coolly.
"Sherlock! You lied to the police, cut off his head and are storing it in our fridge!" I shouted.
"Damn it, John! Trust me on this. You will not get in trouble for this, I can assure you that."
"Why? Because you believe that you can solve the 'mystery' and prove he didn't do it? What if you're wrong? Ever think of that?"
"I'm not wrong, John. It's the only logical explanation. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."
"Get rid of the heads, Sherlock," I warned.
"Fine." Sherlock got up and walked to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and slammed it shut. Holding the heads, he walks back into the living room. He places them on the side table, their dead eyes looking straight through me. "Happy now?"
I stare at him in disbelief as anger and annoyance begin to flood my body.
"You're being irrational, John. This poor man is innocent and you're going to let him die a criminal."
"Irrational?" I squeak. Deep breath. "Fine. Keep the heads. Hide them in the cooler." I walk over to the closet and pull out my jacket. Putting it on I turn to him. "I'm going to pick up the cake. When I come home this place better be spotless." His eyes are gleaming with triumph. "Spotless. I mean it Sherlock, spotless." I open the door and point to the heads he is now holding like babies cradled in his arms. "We'll talk about that later."
"Five hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifty-seven seconds." Sherlock announces as I walk through the door.
"What are you talking about?"
"You were gone for five hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifty-seven seconds."
"You were counting?" I ask incredulously.
"Obviously, John. I didn't make up those numbers."
I let out a sigh. "Would you help me bring in all of the stuff?"
"That's the last of it." I say as we bring the final bags into the kitchen. "You've really outdone yourself Sherlock. The flat looks amazing." I look around to find myself standing in a room empty of all Sherlock's belongings. "Where did you put all your stuff?" I ask as I put the food into the fridge.
"Places."
I snort. "Places as in your room?"
"Yes."
I give him a look. "Alright. People are due to arrive in two hours. That gives us enough time to decorate the flat and put the food on platters." I hand Sherlock red and gold streamers. "Please use that head of yours to decorate them nicely around the living room."
Sherlock takes the streamers from my hands. "Red and gold?" He walks to the living room with the streamers and I turn around to put the roses in vases.
Two hours later, the flat is decorated with balloons and streamers. Music is playing softly in the background when we hear the first knock.
"Sherlock!" I holler. "Guests are arriving!" I walk to the door and out of the corner of my eye I see Sherlock emerging from his room. "Molly! Welcome!"
"John! Thank you so much for inviting me!" she exclaims excitedly.
"It's our pleasure," I respond.
Moments later, people begin to show and the party picks up.
"When is Mrs. Hudson coming?" Molly asks.
I look at my watch. "She should be here any moment now."
As if on cue, there is a knock on the door. Everyone gathers and walks to the door.
"Happy birthday Mrs. Hudson!" We all shout.
"Oh my goodness! Hello!" she replies cheerfully.
After she greets everyone, we move the party into the living room. Food and gifts are being passed around and all is well until someone lets out a blood-curdling scream. I turn towards the source of the sounds to find Molly Hooper standing next to an open cooler, blood drained from her face, holding a head. "Sherlock!" I yell and turn to see him standing in the corner of the room with a blank expression on his face.