It was his face that I saw when I woke up from my nightmare. I didn't want to get out of my room, splited between shame and anger. I go into the bathroom. I wash my face with clean water but it only remind myself of the pain on my face. I dare look at myself a little in the mirror. It's not so bad. The wounds are already almost gone, the cut is still there, but not for too long, well, I hope.
I wash my hair and put on cozy clothes. I sigh when I hear a new argument between John and Sherlock.
-She has been here for a week and has already found herself in the hands of your worst enemy!" John yelled
-It's not his fault.
They turn to me. I sigh and roll my eyes when I see John's worried face.
-I am good! Really, that's okay now.
I smiled at Sherlock, who smiled back at me.
-I told you John, she is a warrior!
John smiles and walks out of the room. Sherlock looks at me interrogatively. He comes back with a camera and asks us to come next to him. He presses the button, and I can't do nothing but laugh when I saw the picture. I smile in the center, while Sherlock rolled his eyes and John looks at him, laughing too.
- I will be here in a few minutes, I am going developing this one!
-Oh John can I come? I ask, hope in my eyes.
-No. You stay here with Sherlock, he answers firmly
I turn to Sherlock, being sure that he agree with me, but all he says is:
-Look at you Mia. Stay with me, I have a case.
Ok. That was enough to make me stay. A man searchs and captures women, but remains untraceable. He started with a homeless woman, and his last victim was the daughter of an ambassador. Interesting...
-He must uses latex gloves. A man, in his fifties, a pure psycopath. He loves beautiful things, he is an esthete: look at these girls, they are attractive, well for most men... That's why he must loves paintings, classical music, perhaps Mozart? No. I am sure that he doesn't like Mozart, do you see the difference between his first and his last crime? No, he prefers Bach.
He had just said that, without breathing once. It was evident for him. I look at him and suddenly feel very stupid. I nod, a little ashamed. Sherlock is brilliant. He is a bit odd sometimes, but so smart. He looks at me so I add something:
-He has not committed any murder since two weeks, something had to disrupt him?
-He found a new prey, says Sherlock darkly
John returned to the flat and gave me one of the pictures, then put the other in a frame, near the skull on the fireplace.
I smiled as I looked at the photo, and went to my room to prepare my things for tomorrow. I put the picture in the pocket of my uniform blazer and add the books in my black bag. I'll go back to school tomorrow. I'm no longer afraid. I have John, Sherlock and it was just a negative event. Nothing more.
Now, I was waking up from this nightmare and saying to myself that I should find my fightingspirit once again and continue to fully live.