First off, I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm heading with this... I'm just having a bit of fun with it.
Second, I was pointed out by a dear friend that I misspelled Lestrade. Whoops.
Third, I think I'll reply to my reviews here:
Spnlove101: I think I shall continue this. It makes me happy.
Amy: why, thank you! I hope to continue making it well.
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Ain't no worries, for the rest of your days..it's our problem free, philosophy. Hakuna matata!
My brain was on loop like a broken record player. A broken record player which happened to play Hakuna Matata over and over again.
"Miss?"
Hakuna matata, hakuna matata-
"Yeah?" I tried to ignore the music playing in the back of my mind and tried to focus on the man in front of me. He had such kind blue eyes...I tried to focus on that.
"Are you all right?" He asked me gently as he crouched down to be eye to eye with me.
"Uh, I think so." I stuttered out. Why can't I get that stupid song outta my head? I need to focus! Wait.. It was then that I noticed someone had draped a orange blanket around me. When did that happen?
I drew the blanket closer around me as a sudden flash of memory popped up of the time Sherlock kept getting a orange blanket draped over him.
"Becca?" I looked back up at the man and tried to suppress the manic grin that was trying to come out. Great. This is being in shock. I hate it. Now he'll think I'm crazy..
Crazy...crazy like the fact that I seem to be suddenly in the middle of a Sherlock set without a camera, film crew and the director? Not to mention the fact that the guy insisting that he's John Watson is staring at me in concern? Crazy like people insisting they are fictional characters? CRAZY LIKE SUDDENLY WAKING UP NEXT TO A DEAD GUY KNIFED TO DEATH?
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath to calm down and tried to control the inner child that wanted to scream and run in terror.
"Becca, do you know what day it is today?"
Um, no.
I don't know, British cosplay doctor man.
It was June when I went to bed and apparently its wintertime where I woke up. Did I get abducted to Australia?
Or worse! I stared wide eyed down at my hands, noticing the tinged brown around my fingernails that they couldn't quite clean off, did I suffer a psychotic breakdown after suffering a traumatic experience and I'm only now coming to my senses? Am I actually really crazy?
"I don't know..", I whispered looking up at him, "I honestly don't know.."
He immediately came closer to look into my eyes and asked, "Did you bump your head at any point, headaches, or nausea?"
"I don't know, I don't know!" I started sobbing as I wrapped myself further into the blanket.
I want my mom. I want my mom so bad. This can't be happening!
"What is your roll in this?"
I jerk my head up towards the new voice above me and stared up at the Sherlock cosplayer in surprise.
Wait one hot minute..he thinks I-
"You think I," All my fear and shock turned to anger, "did that?"
"If you're referring to the murder of that man, of course not." He frowned and waved away the idea like he would an annoying fly. "You are clearly left handed. The murderer was a right handed man or perhaps a strong, tall woman. And from the lack of blood splatter on you," he slide his eyes over me, "clearly, you were not around him at the time of his murder, neck wounds spray and all that. John can tell you." He looked pointedly at the exasperated looking John Watson cosplayer before he leaned back and held his hands behind his back.
I took in his immaculate imitation of Sherlock. How can someone talk that fast without running out of breath?
"Furthermore, what does intrigue me," He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, "is that you and the man have seemed to appeared out of thin air."
What?
"It's been horribly wet weather for the last four days and yet his clothing, much less his pant hems, are quite dry. There's a suprising lack of blood in and around him considering he was knifed to death, so it's clear that he was murdered elsewhere. And yet there are no signs that he was carried or moved there by anyone." His piercing eyes crinkled at the edges as he grinned. "I'm intrigued by the fact that you woke up next to the body of a man that was murdered elsewhere and yet you don't seem to know the man at all."
"Sherlock." The other British guy let out a low disapproving huff.
He then leaned closer to me and said,"So therefore my initially question. What is your roll in this?" He stood there glaring down at me while ignoring the John Watson cosplayers words of protest.
I had enough of this role playing.
"Look," I tried to control the tremor in my voice as I started getting angry, "you seem to think you're some genius detective that solves crimes but I'm telling you, this isn't a game!" I clutched at my orange blanket and yelled, " You are NOT Sherlock Holmes! You're not! Because he doesn't exist! And if you think you're him, then you're crazy!"
"I'm not crazy. I," he replied in a condescending voice, "am high functioning sociopath!"
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Reviews are greatly appreciated. It helps me be motivated to write and constructive reviews make me a better one.
