Chapter 2: Cudding
Sherlock Holmes loves drugs. Everybody know it. In my opinion, alcohol is better than drugs. I often bring a few bottles of wine or vodka and hide them behind the books in Sherlock's living room.
Sherlock sits in his likely armchair and plays the violin. I put on the table, near a syringe, a bottle of whisky.
"You're an alcoholic" he says.
I smile and sit on the desk.
"You're fucking junkie" I say.
He says nothing. He rolls his eyes and still plays. I like music, but my lovely sound is sound of violin. I love this man only he is a good violinist. Okay, he is amazing violinist and I can hear his music for hours.
"It's 11 o'clock" I say. "Why do you take drugs so early?" I asking.
He rolls his eyes. I love it. I want hit him something.
"Why do you drink so early?" he asked.
"I'm not drinking now" I answered.
This conversation is stupid. We wouldn't talking when we are drunk and drugs. We would be in the bed...or on the stable...or in the kitchen...stop it! I shake my head.
I watch him awhile. Suddenly I start singing. Sherlock looks at me and smiles.
"Stop it" he says.
I shake my had.
"Shut up! You can't sing"
I stop because I laugh. I can't sing!
"You're deaf"
I lay on the desk and still laugh. Sherlock stands up and walk near me. His violin bow touch my ribs softly.
I sit and grab his hand. Next he lay near me. Suddenly my head lay on his chest. He doesn't protest and his fingers touch my hair.
"I'm joking, you now" he whispers. "I love your voice" he kisses me on the forehead.
I smiled but say nothing.
