Owen left Sherlock's flat first. Sherlock gave him enough money for a ride back to his flat. Hailing a cab, Owen entered and gave his address before asking the cabby to take him by Wooster's Pharmacy first. Settling in his seat, Owen watched the blur of vehicles as the cab passed through the congested streets of London.
In his mind, he fathomed who or what wanted him and why. When he used drugs, he never stole money or anything valuable, so it could not been a vengeful victim of theft. He never hurt anyone while under the effects of cocaine; he carefully hid himself away from the world. In the programs he once participated in, he never made any friends or even enemies; he generally kept to himself and only spoke when asked. Other than that, nothing from his days of drug use turned up anything substantial.
When Owen worked for Bruno, he never really spoke unless towards customers when he was the baker or if Bruno needed financial advice. No one ever saw him outside his old office and no one really paid any attention to him when he took orders, nothing from that.
Websites, nothing either, Owen never encountered any issues from working as an internet accountant. No one really talked to him, except through countless inquires and emails, and he was always tact when submitting forms for their approval.
Old lovers, why would they come back for him, he barely held any relationship longer than four weeks.
It dawned on Owen how unusual his situation really was.
He had nothing, nothing at all, nothing anyone really wanted. No information, no valuables, and nothing in his bank account for anyone to wag their tails!
"What do they want?" Owen wondered as he briefly closed his eyes.
The clouds crawled into the area, darkening it, as the cab pulled up to Wooster's Pharmacy. Owen stepped out and headed inside, the only one there was Deidrick and he kept himself busy by reading a magazine while having a small portable TV behind him playing music videos. Stepping to the counter, Owen coughed and Deidrick lowered the magazine. "Oh, it's you, again," Deidrick mused as he closed the magazine and threw it on the counter. "Whatcha want now and where's Arthur Dent, thought he'd skulk in with you."
Owen shook his head before replying, "I'm here to pick up my new prescription. Dr. Watson isn't with me right now, if that's what you're wondering."
"Right, yeah, your prescription," Deidrick nods before gesturing his hand for the script and Owen handed it to him. Deidrick read the prescription before nodding again; he stuffed the prescription into his pocket. Hopping up from his chair, he told Owen as he neared the back room door, "It'll be a few minutes 'cause it's way in the back."
Owen watched him disappear into the back room, keys jingling as Deidrick took them from his belt loop.
Waiting by the counter, Owen took time and composed himself. Running his hand through his hair, he felt his stringy hair part in between his fingers.
It weighed heavily on his mind, everything. Owen endlessly asked this question ever since it all began, why a simple ordinary man became a target, for no apparent reason.
What purpose did stalking him serve, if there was any purpose, and what was the end game, if there was one?
It dawned on Owen; he did not know whom to trust. Of course, he trusted Sherlock and John, but he considered the others in his life. Mrs. Hudson, an associate of Sherlock and John, Owen trusted her, no doubt, as she was kind to him, and certainly no part of this.
Owen trusted Sheila, while she lied about things and refused to budge, Owen understood her reasonings. She was afraid and Owen did not blame her for hiding it, whoever these men were, no doubt were not above tormenting elderly women.
Deidrick, there'd be no way for him to mess with Owen's prescription without someone finding out, and even if he was sly, someone like Sherlock would've found out easily.
Dr. Mason, of course, Owen trusted him, he was his doctor and there could not be a reason for him to do any of this. What would he have gained from this scheme, he knew about Owen's financial woes and misfortune, what was the end goal?
Even though John warned him about the possibilities, Owen continued to cling onto some hope that Dr. Mason was not part of this.
Further going down the list of potential suspects, Owen thought about his parents. He never really thought about them much since the incident, and he doubted it was they. They never came around, sent mail, called, or any of that, they have practically written him out of their lives at this point. Why would they change their minds now?
It spun around in Owen's head dizzying and it made his stomach form knots. Nothing made sense in this and Owen prayed for it to all end.
Taking his mind off the matter, Owen glanced at the portable TV Deidrick kept.
A music video from the Red Children played, filmed in black and white, the music video opened with singer, Leon McDowell, going through a long hallway with a checkered floor. True to the 80s Leon had a mullet and his outfit a mix of 80s businessperson with his suspenders and trousers, but a shade of casual. Tight black shirt with short sleeves just shy above his forearms, black fingerless gloves, shiny belt, and black boots, made Leon stand out in the white sterile halls as he walked, his feet disappearing over the black parts of the floor.
Synthesizers and the like played in the background as the singer traversed the strange world, some believed, his subconscious mind.
"I've got two strong arms. Daughters on the left, sons of the right, time to make things our own," he sung as he passed opened doors. On his left, there were young girls in white dresses and wore bows playing ring around the roses. On his right, there were young boys in suits with ties holding rather large mobile phones and suitcases. Leon continued walking through the hallway, passing doorways with various scenes happening within each room, some nonsensical and others based on different media such as Alice in Wonderland.
Passing through another set of doorways, Leon sung, "Sons of the day and daughters of the night, one of a kind, and they're all mine!"
He held out his arms as a string of children walked past him, boys wearing dark colored suits and girls wearing light colored dresses. After they disappeared through a doorway, the door closes, and Leon continues walking until he comes across a staircase.
Hurrying up the stairs, the buckles of his suspenders glistening in the light, Leon finds himself in another place entirely, a throne room. There, a woman sat upon her throne with a powdered wig bigger than her head, waving her fan as servants serve tea and biscuits. Leon rolls his eyes before the guards circled him, pointing their weapons at him.
A secret trapdoor opened and sent Leon on a downward spiral on a slide that spun around a pillar until it ended. Leon appears in a normal den, where a woman reading a newspaper sat on the couch. Smiling warmly, Leon sings, "Ode to dear Mother Marie, praise her excellence for it was her love that brought them to me."
The woman turns her head toward him and blows a kiss at him, he catches it with his gloved hands and he smiles.
A trapdoor opens yet again, sending him down another slide until he rolled into a dark room with a glowing question mark, confused, Leon looks around, visibly concerned as he sings, "What's my name?"
Strange men appeared before Leon, wth the black and white film and the barely lit room they were impossible to see. Only their mouths were barely visible. As they talked, instead of their own voices, it was Leon's. "I'm in your dreams, I can hear your thoughts, no matter where you hide, and no matter who's on your side, I have you in my sight," the strange men mouthed, though, their mouths barely moved.
Afraid, Leon turns and runs into the darkness, confused and alone, he had nowhere to run. Yet, he continued to run until coming across the sole door at the end of the darkened area. Attempting to pry open the door, with Leon's back turned, the strange men close in on him, saying in unison, "I will drag you into the veil of the night, no one will ever hear of your maladies, your plights, they won't even know you disappeared. That much you will know, you will never, never escape from me."
Several arms stretched out and grabbed Leon, dragging him into the night, Leon shouting, "What's my name?"
The scene changes and Leon tied to a chair with the strange men circling him, their faces in the shadows now, not even their mouths visible anymore. As Leon struggled in his chair, the strange men say, "I got plans for us, knights in the galleries, soldiers in the skies. The stars are marked, time to collect them all, put them where they belong."
The scene changed between knights in armor standing in an art gallery with mannequins standing in place of people, before it changed to toy soldiers cascading down from the skies in parachutes, and stop with the appearance of a black board with Styrofoam stars stuck to it, famous actors and singers' names drawn on them. Multiple hands from all angles appeared and grabbed every star, until there was none left.
Leon continued to struggle in the chair until dragged toward a corridor and pulled into the same throne room from earlier in the music video, with the woman on the throne crossing her arms. "Ode to Her Majesty, the Divine, for giving us our cloth, no man shall take from our grasp," the strange men declared as they stood in front of the woman, their faces hidden in shadows, but their different colored Victorian coats visibly seen. They each pointed at their respected coats, before the camera panned to Leon who only rolled his eyes.
Suddenly, one of the strange men appears behind Leon and dragged him and the chair toward another area where there were typewriters typing by themselves, infinite paper pouring out of them. The strange man tells Leon, "We will rewrite your history."
He threw Leon and the chair into another room, this time, a park with several trees, each different from the last. The strange man declares to Leon, "Seasons shall change when we please."
The scene fades and another fades in, with Leon singing over the scene of a reel of various home movies cut together with some cartoons at the time. "Your thoughts are our memories."
Leon suddenly slides down musical notes, having broken free from his captors. Sliding down the notes, Leon manages to say, "Your names are our melodies."
The musical notes revealed having Leon's name in them, until the scene changes yet again to the same throne room with bundles of gifts at the feet of the woman. Leon wore the same clothing at the strange men. The strange men behind him say as they bowed before the woman, their faces obscured, still. "Praise Our Majesty for her gifts."
Leon tilted his head; he had a huge grin on his face, almost a Glasgow smile. He says, "I did my part, now time to pray, before we carry on."
The scene shifts to him and the strange men on Main Street, Leon visibly confused as he sings, "What's my name?"
They start marching down Main Street, Leon leading them with a strange look on his face. He carried in his right hand, a rapier, as he pointed it, marching forward with the strange men trailing behind. As Leon sung again, his voice noticeably became wavered and stilted.
"I got time to kill, ready to storm the hill, sons and daughters ready for the thrill. You know the drill. You disappear into the veil of the night. They will never never, find you again. For you see, it is the beginning of your plight. It becomes apparent and you will see as they claim your mind… what's my name?" Leon looks at the camera, his eyes pale like a dead fish.
Two of the strange men holding piccolos played an instrumental tune of the song as they marched. There were drums, the twangs of a guitar before the chorus started again, and the previous scenes played from the end toward the beginning. "No, they will never, never find you," Leon trailed until the music video stopped at the beginning where Leon closes a door behind him and walks off. On the door, a hanging sign visible that read in big bold letters, "Out of Service".
When the commercial for crisps started, Owen held his head as he felt the piccolos in his head, the tune beating against his mind. He held the counter for support while his head spun and he felt the muscles in his brain shudder. Owen blinked several times while holding onto the counter until the pain dissipated and the feeling went away. Exhaling, Owen attempted to remain calm, for his sake, and it barely worked.
"Sorry for the wait," Deidrick reappeared with a bag in his hand. "There was a problem with the cage."
The cage as Deidrick referred to as, was a heavily locked down area of the back room where heavily regulated medication sat in until needed. Only those authorized were allowed in and around it, anyone else, would've been arrested. On a whim, Owen asked Deidrick, "What problem?"
"Ah, damn door isn't closing properly anymore, you can close it and lock it, but somehow it'll swing right open. I made it known to the people above me, they're going to send someone out to fix it first thing," Deidrick sighed as he shook his head. "So, I've been in the back trying to make sure the damn thing locks, it almost locked me in the first time around!"
Deidrick typed in the prescription into the computer, verifying it once more, before a receipt spouted out from the register and he grabbed it before stuffing it into the bag. Handing the bag to Owen, Deidrick reminded Owen, "Remember, higher dosage, gonna mess with you a little bit."
Owen nods before replying with, "What doesn't have side effects these days?"
"Water," Deidrick grins before waving Owen off.
Stepping out of the pharmacy, Owen hurried into the cab as rain poured. The cab pulled from the curb and it took thirty minutes before it arrived at Owen's flat. After paying the cabby his fare, Owen dove out of the cab and hurried up the steps of his flat. Upon entering, he rubbed the soles of his shoes against the welcome mat, before slowly walking toward the staircase. He stopped for a short minute, hearing at the end of the hall a soap opera behind closed doors. Sheila must've been watching reruns of her favorite soaps, she always done that, especially during droughts.
Walking up the stairs, Owen rubbed his eyes as he yawned. All he wanted to do was relax, watch some telly, and get some sleep. If there were forms or consultation, it would have to wait until tomorrow; Owen felt no desire to do anything laborious.
Fishing out his key, Owen unlocked his flat and entered. He tossed the bag of his prescription on the couch before sitting down beside it. Throwing off his shoes and socks, Owen turned on the telly, and flipped channels until he found something interesting.
Putting his feet up on the table, Owen rubbed his eyes. He trusted Sherlock to warn him of any danger and since there were no messages on his phone, it meant that there was no danger.
Once relaxed enough, Owen pushed himself off the couch and shuffled toward the kitchen. He grabbed for some salted caramel yogurt and a bottle of water before returning to his couch. Watching a game show, Owen deduced the actual costs of the prizes people won more specifically the cars and trips they always displayed. Most of the time, people get a wake-up call when they realize they cannot afford the cost to redeem their prize and forfeit it instead, leaving several dozen objects worth well over hundreds and thousands in warehouses.
By the time the show ended, Owen finished his yogurt and water. He got up and shuffled toward the rubbish bin, tossing them in before stretching out his arms and popping his back.
Checking his phone again, no texts from Sherlock, not even an email. Nothing from John, either, and Owen wasn't sure what to make of it. He reasoned, if anything were wrong, either one or both would've appeared at his door if not breaking it down.
Rubbing his eyes, Owen felt a spell of sleepiness wash over him; he couldn't shake it off as easily as before and decided that it was time for him to go to sleep.
Preparing for bed, Owen grabbed for his bottle and uncapped it. Fishing out two pills, Owen popped them into his mouth before washing them down with a glass of water. Feeling the pills reach his stomach, Owen groaned as he stretched, shuffling around his flat. He cleaned things up, stacking books, tossing rubbish, amongst other things.
Only when he was satisfied the flat been cleaned enough, Owen shuffled toward the table where Frank sat and carefully picked him up.
"I think I'll sleep in me bed tonight, Frank," Owen mentioned to Frank as he carried the porcelain turtle into his bedroom.
Placing the turtle on his small dresser, Owen yawned as he blinked several times.
Dr. Mason mentioned there were side effects, drowsiness one of them, and Owen felt it flow throughout his body as he shuffled toward his small bed. Throwing his feet up as he collapsed onto his bed, Owen rested his head against the plush pillows. His heavy eyes closed while he greedily pulled the comforter up to his neck.
He softly began to snore and all was well when…
His eyes snapped open when he heard a sneeze; they glided around the room, and found no one there. "Oh, excuse me," said a voice. Owen pushed himself up and alarms rung in his head.
His eyes moved around the room, afraid at every shadow or darkened area, until they stopped.
"What, did I wake ya up, ya loony?" Owen heard the voice again. "Bloody idiot, one little sneezes and you act like a soldier with PSTD!"
Owen jumped from his bed and searched his room, under his bed, in his closet, nothing there. Tried the small corners, once again, Owen found no one, not even signs.
Owen frowned and shuffled back to his bed and nearly leapt out of his room when he heard the voice yet again. "What're ya doing, you half-wit?" He heard coming from his dresser.
"I've finally lost it," Owen said to himself. "I've finally gone mad!"
"You were always mad, ya idiot," he heard the voice again.
Owen braced himself as he shuffled toward the dresser and asked, "W-who are you, what do you want, I've got not money left in my pocket!"
He heard laughing as he stepped toward the dresser and stood there, blinking. "Why would I need money?" He heard the voice laugh. "Have you forgotten who I am, already?"
Owen mouthed his name and he laughed aloud, "How many Franks do you know, I'm the only one who has to talk to you all the time!"
Slowly, Owen's hazel eyes moved down toward the top of the dresser and froze.
Owen always talked in place of the porcelain turtle, gave him a posh upper crust accent and everything else, but, something went horribly wrong!
Frank was speaking all himself, not Owen, and Owen stood with his mouth wide open.
"It's a side effect, it is," Owen motioned with his right hand. "It can't be real; Dr. Mason said there'd be side effects!"
"Dr. Mason says a lot of things," Frank snapped at him. "He's quite good at it; too, I'll give him that."
Owen blinked before sheepishly asking, "W-what do you mean he's good at it?"
"Takes lots of practice, he's had time to practice, and worth every shilling," Frank answered intentionally vaguely, sending chills down Owen's spine.
Owen blinked repeatedly, trying to wake himself up or come out of this hallucination, but nothing worked. If these were the side effects Dr. Mason mentioned, then Owen worried what other side effects there were that he hadn't stumbled upon yet.
"It's just a side effect," Owen attempted to calm himself. "It's not real, this is not real!"
"Oh, Owen, how utterly naïve are you, really?" Frank sighed as Owen looked down at the turtle. Owen slowly blinked before shaking his head. Frank only said in response, "It's never just one thing."
"Why, why me, what did I do to deserve this?" Owen bemoaned as he raised his arms in frustration. While Owen held his head down in anguish, Frank chuckled at this before he said, "I told you before, there's a silver lining in this."
Owen, angry, scoffed and stomped away from the turtle with his arms raised. "You keep saying that, "there's a silver lining in this", and I'm bloody confused as to what the hell that means!" Owen shouted at Frank in frustration. Frank didn't react to the outburst, he remained calm, and responded with, "All good things come when we wait, Owen, you should know better, you'll get your answer when the time is right."
The turtle's responses only made Owen even more frustrated and confused, for a hallucination it seemed vividly real, and it only frightened him further.
"I've gone completely mad, I finally have," Owen wept as he shuffled back to his bed and plopped down with his head hung low. "I've gone mad, oh god, help me!"
"Stop it, you're embarrassing yourself," Frank hissed at him. "All this self-pitying shite of yours, "oh woe is me, oh woe is me", what a sad poor excuse you are, and the fact you're letting someone else do your dirty work, how low can you go!"
Owen flinched at this and a sudden spurt of anger drove him to shout, "At least I'm not a talking turtle and what the hell gives you the right to judge me, no one's after you!"
"At least I'm not dwelling in sorrow instead of doing something about it instead of waiting around like a chump!" The turtle shouted back.
Owen jumped up from his bed and stomped as he approached the turtle again. "What do you expect me to do, I have no footage, no evidence, and no one believes me. You expect me to do something when there's no chance in hell of that happening. Do you think this is any easier on me than it is you?" He snarled at the turtle.
Frank became strangely happy and responded with, "See…! You aren't the useless git I half-expected you to be, you're finally getting it now!"
Owen begun to blink repeatedly and his mind swirled into a mess of dissolute. He felt his legs become weak and attempted to rush back to his bed before they collapsed under his own weight. Barely reaching the bed, Owen looked a round the room as it spun. Breaking out in sweat, Owen felt his skin crawl, and the loss of muscle movement prevented him from reaching for his phone on his nightstand.
His eyes moved around the room against his will, the only thing Owen could see partial bits of his room and a shadow standing at the foot of his bed. Owen didn't know whether it was real or not, but it looked strikingly similar to one of the strange men from the music video. Owen was even able to see the strange man's face. It was pale white with some few distinct features; Owen was unable to see properly.
Unable to move, Owen attempted to call out for help, but nothing came out of his mouth. Like that, his vision blurred until it darkened, and he slept soundly on his bed.