Hello all! I got a lot of constructive criticism! Which is GREATLY appreciated and TAKEN very much to heart!I like knowing where I am messing things up as well lol. Writing is primarily my hobby that I most likely won't ever get serious with, however it is nice for me to try and get my writing as neat as possiblebecause the reviews I received were rather special (not to say any from the past were not, just that the range of reviews were diffrerent) these last ones really helped me to try and write this chapter better.
To YUNeLenna: Normally I would not cut off in the middle, but I did because it would have been very long and I find when I try cramming a bunch into one story I write sloppy out of frustration. And I do agree that there should be a intern POV of Adele's disorder. Something I have been struggling with. When I started the story I thought Sherlock/Moriarty would be hard to get into character, but I realized that I have videos to go back to on their account and Adele who is entirely made up. With the added fact that she is also Schizophrenic, a mental disorder that on it it's own is rare but also is rare to be recognized at a young age I have no idea what it is like in her mind even though she is my own character. SO like you, I feel and really want to be more in Adele's head rather than on the outside and think the 2nd portion will be perfect for it! I will try to put more convo's with her voices and such as I realized I've been slacking on that part!
To Eleshey: I am very glad you are enjoying yourself reading! It's really humbling that out of so many stories out there this is your favorite! And I don't personally hold myself as an amazing person, you certainly made me feel very special indeed!
To Carlypso: Thanks a whole lot for pointing out the spelling error! I do my upmost best to correct everything before I submit any chapter, sometimes thought I tend to miss some because I cannot see the squiggly red lines, so when I go back I'm like what the heck! I missed so much! Haha any who I did go back and fix 'kepp'!
AkatsukiShizu3: Glad you are liking the plot so far! Hopefully I can keep delivering on entertainment! Thanks so much for reviewing!
Thank you also so much for fav/following!: bella cullen the original, Ninjatastic, & AkatsukiShizu3! I love knowing that new people are reading and enjoying my story!
PS (IMPORTANT): I have decided to go with a Sherlock/OC. Because originally this was my intention but thought it'd be interesting to do a Sherlock/OC/Moriarty story. And I really did want to make it work with both characters, but my heart has always loved Sherlock. Personally I do not believe Moriarty is capable of loving on that level that Adele hopes for. He is a for-the-moment-kind-of-guy. So, from here on out it is a SHERLOCK/OC story but there will still be some things involving Moriarty okay?. Perhaps one day I will make an OC/Moriarty story. Now that I have settled my own demons I am hoping for a much easier transition through the story. This story will primarily have a HUGE turning point for the two and they will discover their truest and deepest feelings for each other. I also added a little something-something ^.~ nothing a whole lot but more than in the past.
Hound Pt 2
I don't remember leaving the facility; but there we were, jostling down the long road with John driving and Sherlock pondering out the window. The hills sped fast behind us, becoming smudges of green.
"What happened?" I asked shifting uncomfortably out of the seats and leaned forward to peer alongside the weary men.
"Did I fall asleep or something?" Strange, since I don't remember waking up either.
"You were having a panic attack." John replied, glancing down at me. My brows raised slightly. The last time I had a panic attack was my very first time at the doctor's office. "Was I? When?" I raked my brains, shoving all the stupid stuff 'Q' thrusted my way.
"When they hit the alarm." Sherlock told me, sneaking a half amused look at me. Oh, right. The red blarring lights and the raised voices, and the tense-against-feng shui atmosphere. The major guy growling angrily at us like he were an oversized wolf. Then that nice guy in the lab coat came over and saved our asses. For a guy who ran experiments one who-cares-what, he certainly knew how to pull strings.
"Were you ever experimented on Adele?" John asked bringing me out of my hazy stupor, staring sternly at me. "I know it's a personal question and all, but-"I stopped him with a half-smile. Many facilities that treated the 'insane' or 'mentally ill' were very nice places, and both the doctors and nurses had always been kind to me, treating me with respect and listened to what I had to say like I were a normal human being. I won't say that the bad facilities didn't exist, because it was still possible they did. But, I just felt that it's not as likely as it would have been a century ago."
"No John. I was never 'experimented' on. They don't do that anymore since there's a much better understanding of mental health then there was centuries ago. Mental health is treated with a lot more compassion now than it ever was in the past. Although the 'horror' movies don't really help us much." John nodded, mouth slanted as though he doubted what I said.
"I have triggers, things that set me off, and like a defense mechanism I kind of go on auto pilot and hide in my little brain where it's safe. Where no one hurts me, understand? Once the ordeal is done, I don't really remember anything afterwards. Sometimes nothing at all."
John remained quiet, thinking my words over; leaving me to my own as well. Was it healthy to continuously forget? How much of my life have I missed out on and not have realized it?
Forgetting is easier pet. Do you feel like mending everything you break? –Q
I sat back and stared out at the rolling hills, doing my best to ignore 'Q'. I'd like to forget you, I told him somewhat angrily. But 'Q' had been with me for as long as I could remember and while he was an irritating thorn in my side, he was also all I'd ever known. What would my head be like if it were quiet? If the seas were calm? I suppose, I don't want it to by quiet because then I'd be alone.
"So, I thought we were doing the case for that guy?" I pressed, thinking back to the bits and pieces I could recall. "I didn't realize we were helping the little girl find her bunny."
"Initially we weren't." Sherlock said, "It was a coincidence." I smiled almost cruelly.
"So the Sherlock Holmes is a pet service now?" Sherlock glared at me, smacking me square on the nose.
"No, but if you don't sit back and behave I'll have you on a leash."
Oh, we like leashes pet. Leashes are good and dandily handy! LEASHES FOR EVERYONE! I'll have the purple one if you don't mind… –Q
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. 'Q' could be a freaky demented crazy. When I closed my lids on the inside and concentrated real hard on him, he was never there. Just his voice, but never a shape or any physical anything. It was extremely frustrating to me, it made me feel like he was everything and everywhere, watching me no matter what I did.
At least roach actually looked like a roach and Rachel looked like Rachel. But 'Q' was nothing but also everything.
"I said SHUT UP!" I slammed my feet against Sherlock's seat who threw his hands out to catch the dashboard.
"But, I didn't say anything." John replied, his face perplexed as he stared at me through the rearview mirror.
"I wasn't talking to you!" I snapped back, folding my arms and slumped down into the seat so that I was staring at the top of the jeep to pout.
"Just go with it John, after a high level stress situation she's bound to be a little moody." Sherlock said, brushing himself off with a cool look on his face.
"I'm not moody." I grumbled, rolling onto my side. I wasn't moody, was I?
Of course you're moody! –Roach
Always confused, then happy, then angry, and then sad and then sorry! –Roach
When we reached the inn I decided to take a nice warm shower and take my meds.
"Clozaril to keep the creepies away."
"Zoloft so I don't get the frownies."
"And Epitol! So I don't do the silly willies!"
With a slight frown I popped the pills in my mouth. mom's mantra just didn't sound right without Lithium. The bathroom was small but had a classic vintage feel to it with a deep soaking tub with clawed feet. The walls were done up in a pretty but simple light grey wall paper, making it seem contemporary as well. I felt like one of those gorgeous classic women from the twenties with strings of pearls around their necks, done up lashes batting their pretty eyes. Except I was none of those things. Short, thin and scrawny arms paler than probably normal with light tinges under my eyes from lack of sleep. I always thought of Irene, and thought how I couldn't be like her. Did Sherlock really prefer sophisticated women? Did he enjoy her haughty attitude and quick thinking?
As I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over my body I still couldn't help but feel inadequate. Irene in my opinion, was flawlessly regal with her sculpted face and almond eyes of ice. I was a frumpy child in comparison. Maybe that is why I still held onto Jim. Because he saw me and only me. Even if in the end I ended up in the gutter some place far off. At least in my final moments I had nothing to compete with. I hated being who I was, sometimes I hoped that those who believed in reincarnation were correct and that in a next life I could have a second chance. Even now, with my medications I still felt the tugging in my brain, the shadows lurking about and the itchy intense nerves in my head that clank around like shackles. The water burned my skin but I remained unresponsive, the meds also washing over me, numbing my sensations a bit. This numbness in me dulled me in ways that were not good but made me realize how attuned I was to the world both inside and out. Chaos is my life, I cannot hope for it to change because it won't.
"Why do you want to change Adele?" The slow drawled out voice startled me, like any normal person would. grabbing the flimsy curtain I leered out, seeing Sherlock leaning against the sink, arms folded neatly across the chest as he stared at me, unfazed at my annoyed and embarrassed face.
"Do you mind? I'm trying to shower...plus I'm naked." Sherlock was unfazed. Was my body inferior to Adele's? "Answer my question." The detective demanded, brows knitted into neat, angry lines.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now get out." I snarled, snapping the flimsy plastic shut. It was quiet for a while, and I thought that maybe Sherlock went away, until he spoke clearly past the loud shower head.
"Back at the military center, you were excited. To know that you could erase who you are. Tell me why, why do you want to be that way Adele?" I was glowering. Heart burning with a fiery rage. What right did Sherlock have to question my want and need to be normal? What reason did he have to ask why? I thought of Cassie and Jeff. Both normal and average people with highly successful lives and adoring families, and here I was still believing in imaginary people that even though I knew were not real, still conversed with. I thought of 'Rachel', who I had inadvertently murdered and my family that I had beared down hard on with my very being. How could I not want anything else? How could I not want to be 'normal'? I thought again of Irene in all of her stupid fucking glory and then compared it to my loopy sloshy thoughts. What did I have that Irene didn't besides crazy?
"Isn't it obvious?" I spat bitterly, imagining Irene's perfect turquoise liner. "Look at me Sherlock. I'm a freak. I can't be 'normal' no matter how hard I try. Up until now I never had a real friend." It was a hard thing to face. On top of Rachel I had committed three other murders -Not including the guy at he pool, that I only got away with through connection. Had it not been for Sherlock or Mycroft I'd be locked away in prison or worse in a 'crazy house'. I was not Irene or Cassie or mom. There was nothing about me that was appealing. I would always be the 'psycho from Oregon'. My frustration from the past few weeks built up in that moment and I could feel the warm tears building up in me, spilling over my lids and pouring over my cheeks in rapid gushes.
"Look at me. I'm stupid fucking crazy. I can't be normal no matter how hard I try to fit in. I'm not like other Schizos who look normal because my eyes are freaking weird. Didn't you see all the doctors? They were staring at me like a science project. I just want to be normal Sherlock." It was quiet for a while and like Dad I thought Sherlock had no explanation, no words to help me. But there was a shifting sound, slow and uneasy. After a few moments Sherlock shoved the curtain back, standing before me in the nude like we were Adam and Eve. Except Eve wasn't damaged like I was. If God existed he was a cruel and heartless person. Sherlock's naked form didn't process right away as he stepped in. My feet stepped back against the slick porcelain surface, my back pressing against the cool pale pink tiles.
"Now why would you want to be normal?" Sherlock breathed, his hair dangling in his icy eyes as he stood underneath the tap. I opened my mouth to speak, but shied away. Too embarrassed to speak. So I did my best to remain composed and focused on not falling over. The shadows in the corner of my eyes whisped around us but were more subdued under my medication.
"I'm naked." I murmured, trying to look at anything and everything but Sherlock. I felt like I'd be molesting him if I looked at him in any kind of way, whether it were up...or down. But I especially avoided looking down.
"And I feel like a monster." I told him, honestly for once. For the first time I revealed to myself how I actually felt. Sherlock remained firm, jaw-lin smooth and unmoved while his eyes analyzed every part of me. Despite being naked I felt even more naked as I revealed this to him because it wasn't something I was accustomed to knowing.
"You're perfect the way you are." Sherlock purred, leaning close, his narrow nose caressing my own. "Are you drunk?" I asked somewhat sarcastically, trying to move away. Our bodies separated by a thin strip of atom like space. Sherlock chuckled a little, blue-green eyes flashing haughtily. He was a man version of Irene, perfect and flawless. Many nights I spent watching him tap away at his evil computer I wished to touch him, but we were separated by this wall I unwillingly created. Metal walls were hard to break down and overcome. Mainly because I didn't understand what I felt for Sherlock, because I'd never had the opportunity.
I realized how much I hated being ME. I hated my crazy, I despised my inability to 'get with the program'. So many times my mother had told me I was being immature and that I needed to get a hold of myself. Truth is, I can't. I hated to admit it; but it's true. I will probably always see the lurking shadows and hear the hushed voices. Sherlock wouldn't want or need someone like me.
"I'm afraid Sherlock." I told him honestly allowing my meds to take me on auto pilot. "Of what?" Sherlock's mouth slanted, he believed there was someone out to hurt me and would be determined to stop those people dead in their tracks.
"What I felt for Jim...it was real. And he hurt me and betrayed me. How do I know you won't do the same?" My words startled him, catching the usually guarded detective in his side. It wasn't something he expected me to say. We stood there in silence, lukewarm water splashing us in the faces. Eventually it was Sherlock who made the first move, his palm resting against my face.
"Because you do things to me that I have yet to understand and may never understand." He whispered, gently drawing my closer. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest. Both from his words but primarily because the gap between us had closed. I hoped the shower somewhat covered up the crimson blush that had heated my cheeks and ears. I wanted to reply with something witty like those heroines in the romance novels did.
"And...what do I do to you?" I mused slowly, it was an awkward moment but I wasn't a saint or wanted to be. What I wanted was this moment to play out a little longer. Who knew how many more I'd get? Sherlock ghosted a smile for me, planting his lips across mine, not asking for permission to slide his tongue alongside mine. He was surprisingly sweet but commanding at the same time. My head felt fuzzy, like I was laying in a patch of furry bunnies or something. Intertwined my fingers behind the detective's neck, lacing them together to draw him in, enjoying his finger's in my hair. It was an amazing kiss, opting to speak for many things left unsaid. A soft noise escaped me, gasping for a apt breath of air before submerging into another round of tongue stroking. Sherlock's grip was tight, like I'd disintegrate right before his very eyes and he was desperate to keep me here as long as he could.
And in all the heat and fire where something was bound to inevitably happen it was severed by one simple word: "Sherlock?" We moved apart, breathing heavily. John was in the main room, calling for Sherlock who looked between furious and annoyed. I giggled a little, it was a priceless look on his face.
"We do have some things to attend to." I murmured to him softly, hiding my smile by biting the inside of my face. Like a grumpy child Sherlock sauntered out of the shower, sulking his way out and leaving me to try and properly collect myself.
We arrived at a rather charming house. One portion of the house had a very old, perhaps Victorian feel to it. The sunroom was neglected entirely, becoming more of an outdoor garden, lush with trees and sunlight while leading us to the main door I noticed there was a more modern section of the house. Despite it's odd construction it was a charming home with clearly a lot of character. Sherlock rang the bell once, and after a moment of waiting the door pulled open by Henry Knight.
"Hi. Come in, come in." The three of us moved in, revealling that the inside was decorated in an antique like fashion. I wondered if all of this stuff was accumulated from past family or if Henry enjoyed antiquing.
"This is um, are you...rich?" John was always straight to the point. Most wouldn't bluntly ask if one was extremely well of in finances.
"Your house is lovely." I smiled looking around at the home's beauty. "Oh, thank you." Herny replied, he was kind of a jittery guy. More so than me, and that was seriously saying something. He led us into the kitchen where we were served tea, myself opting for the bitter drink of coffee. I roamed to the side, letting the men do their chit chat. I felt something strange here.
"It's what I keep seeing, Liberty." Henry looked like he hadn't slept in ages, poor guy. "Liberty?" John asked, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.
I moved to the wide open windows staring out into the miniature courtyard.
"Liberty and...in." Liberty and in? I thought looking over at him.
"Are you seeing the words or thinking them?" I asked, staring at Henry. The man pondered for a moment, as he collected his thoughts. "Seeing." He replied curiously.
"Like hallucinating?" Henry frowned at me, "I'm not hallucinating. I'm not on drugs or anything." I shrugged, an argument with a distraught person was not worth my time or something I was particularly interested in.
"Liberty in death, isn't that the expression?" Sherlock murmured to John. "The only true freedom." I raised my brows, was that actually an expression? There was possibly nothing after death, maybe even your mind ceased to exist the moment your body stopped functioning. How is no longer existing being the ultimate freedom? Sounded like crap to me. But then again if you were a religious person and firmly believed in the after-life then perhaps there was freedom.
Henry sighed nervously, moving his hands back and forth as he watched the detective and John. "What now then?" John motioned to Sherlock.
"Sherlock's got a plan?" Sherlock smiled his half-good natured smile when he was deciding to be somewhat pleasant. Henry looked absolutely hopeful, and personally I didn't blame him. Years of his life spent wasting over a possible ravenous dog that was seemingly out to get him at every chance it got.
"We take you back out onto to the Moor and see if anything attacks you." My face scrunched up. "You're going to use him as bait?" Sounded like something Moriarty would do.
"That will bring things to a head."
"At night...you want me to go out there at night? I looked at Henry who was as white as snow. "Look Sherlock's an ass, but don't let him fool you into thinking this is the only way. Using him as bait...that's absolutely ridiculous! What if something does attack him?" I rounded on Sherlock, hands on my hip. In turn he rolled his eyes at me.
"That's your plan?" John snapped, looking on in disbelief.
"Uh-huh." Why was he so nonchalant about using another human being as bait? Was he that sure that there was nothing out there? John scoffed, shaking his head.
"Do you have any better ideas?" Sherlock snapped, glaring between the two of us. "If there is a monster out there, there's only one thing to do; find out where it lives."
When we offered no other explanation, Henry reluctantly agreed and the four of us were off to the Moor to hunt down this elusive beast. I shoved my fists into my jacket as we drove down the road. The days events having worn me down a little. By my sneakers little glimpses of shadows danced around my toes like goblins. No matter how many times I blinked they wouldn't go away.
"Are you alright?" Henry asked staring at me in a concerned manner. "Huh? Oh, yeah." I pressed a thin smile to my mouth. "I guess I'm just a little nervous is all." Despite being in his own fear Henry chuckled a bit, his pale face and bruised under eye trying to bring some humor to the table.
"I suppose if anything does attack us, I'll be there to protect you." Almost instantly I could feel Sherlock's cold eyes on us, burning us with his prodding looks. I did my best to ignore that and thanked Henry, turning my full attention to the speeding scenery.
When we got to the Moor the sun was just about to set, turning the sky into hues of pink and orange. We were walking on foot, flashlight in hand with Henry leading the way and me clumsily stumbling after the group. If it weren't for John helping me along the way I'd have fallen on my face several times. None of us spoke, only trekked on through the hilly terrain. The sun slowly dissipating as the night slowly gained control. At this point I was firmly latched onto Sherlock's arm, flashing my light in all directions I saw a movement of a shadow, my foot constantly snagging against stone and foilage.
"How much longer, till we reach the Moor?" I breathed, fingers squeezing bruises into the detective's arm.
"We're just about to head into it." Henry replied, flashing his light as we all descended into a dip that led into a heavily treed forest. "I think this was a bad idea." I told Sherlock, flinching from the thrashing of a wild animal. I did not like things I could only hear and not see. It made me feel unsafe and in danger.
"It'll be fine." Sherlock said, keen eyes dead ahead of us, making sure we didn't loose sight of Henry, yet we failed to notice John falling behind us. The deeper we got into this eerie place the more unwelcoming it became, signs erected up from the ground told us to go back and that possible danger looked in front of us. My skin crawled with itchy bugs, and I realized the only thing keeping me from running off like a scared chicken was Sherlock's iron grip.
What waits inside Addy? What waits to eat you? Will we go in? Yes we will. So that when the dog grabs you I'll finish you and the other two off -Q
Go back, it's not safe. Something bad is here. -Roach
Swallowing my fear I held fast to Sherlock, clinging to him like a child clings to their mother at the grocery store. A ghostly mist was filling in around us, kind of corralling us in a specific direction. I wasn't listening to what Sherlock was saying to Henry, only bits and pieces about Dr. Frankland and about his concern. I thought it strange that Sherlock would bring that up now of all times when something could leap out and possibly kill us.
Think happy thoughts. Happy, happy, happy thoughts. -Adele
"Well a mate's a mate. After all look at you and John." Henry glanced back at us and I could feel Sherlock becoming rigid. Why was he so guarded over what people knew about? More specifically his personal relationships?
"What about us?" Sherlock clipped, I could imagine his serious gaze now, practically ready to stab you with questions.
"Well, I mean he's a pretty straight forward bloke, and you...well they agreed to never talk about work Uncle Bob and my dad." I stared at him for a moment, looking on in wonder. I wanted to ask him about 'Uncle Bob' but he had already turned his attention elsewhere, bobbing his head toward a foggy crevice wedge.
"Dewars Hollow." My stomach turned upright and I subconsciously backed up, afraid of getting to close to the ridged doom place. In my brain I felt the clawing and gnawing, scratching and tearing to get out.
"Right then, lets go." Without waiting for my reply Sherlock tugged me along, leading me down the leafy slopes. I felt like something was watching us, stalking us from the shadows, leering at possibilities to pick us off one by one. Henry's jagged breathing only heightened my anxiety, while 'Q's excessive ill intent only made me feel even more insecure. My vision was becoming hazy, and I thought that at first the fog was getting thicker.
"Is it getting foggier?" I clipped, glancing around only to find that I was alone. "Sherlock? Henry?...John?"
All alone in this dark scary place, let's...play. -Q
My skin lurched like a tiny million worms were wiggling under my skin, crawling up my neck and into my brain. I clawed at them, trying to free myself from their parasite babies. My feet stumbled, I felt like I was just floating on the ground, twirling around to try and find someone to help me.
Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can't outrun me because I'm in your head! -Q
I leaped over a small ledge, landing softly on the ground, I realized I was bleeding, tips of my fingers tinged with cooper smelling red. I clamored up, fell down, then stumbled forward a few feet, rolling across the ground, but the more bugs I got off the more that came back on. Steadying myself up I heard a small noise, more like a soft but gruff grumble and turned to meet the noise only to face a stalking shadow on four brawny limbs, claws grazing in the darkness as whatever it was shifted towards me.
With a harsh yelp, I sprang forward, clamouring over sharp rocks and sticks, crying out for someone to help me. The hulking beast thing was behind me, I could feel his horrible presence on me.
"Sherlock! John!" I screamed, the floor underneath me gave way into blackness and I fell in, my foot snagged in the monster's mouth as I hurled into a terrifying death roll. My hands were burning though I felt cool heavy water underneath me. My ankle burned but the beast was gone and I gurgled on the acrid smelling water, the worms were in here to and I slapped at my skin, crying as I ripped at every part of my body. My mind was racing, one minute Sherlock was here and then he was gone. I wondered if he was taken, if John and Henry were taken and if I were alone in this forest with no means of escaping.
Thrashing around I managed to get out of the thick water, clothes plastered achingly to my bruised ribs as I hurled my body over a thick log, slowly my senses returned and I was lying in a bed of dead leaves. I could see a light bouncing at me and I moved, just slightly, trying to get away.
John Watson
His breathing had stabled somewhat and as he wandered out of the area, having hoped to get away from the howling monster he saw Adele sprawled on the floor, chest heaving rapidly as she struggled to regain her senses. When he approached her he realized that the back of her neck was tore slightly, scratched past the skin membrane, her hands were cut up as well from the rocks and sharp twigs. Adele's pant leg had been torn slightly, revealing a twisted ankle.
"Are you alright?" John lifted the girl up in his arms as best he could, but her body was stiff and shaking "What happened? Adele! Where's Sherlock? What happened?" She only offered a whimper in response, turning her head away to shake off whatever had traumatized her. At that time Sherlock and Henry came stomping through,
"We saw it! We saw it!" Henry proclaimed, fumbling forward, looking as shaken as John still felt.
"No, I didn't see anything." Sherlock muttered, ushering forward without pause.
"What are you talking about?!" Henry demanded, for once someone else besides him experienced what he had experienced long ago, and now that person was denying everything.
"I didn't see anything." Sherlock snapped again in a too-even-tone.
John shifted Adele in his arms, carrying her off behind the others. Making sure he kept his pace this time to not get separated from the group.
Adele Banks
I remained in the jeep, while John escorted Henry back into his house. He'd wrapped my ankle in tight binding to help alleviate the pain. Sherlock had been denying the whole ride back that he had never seen anything and poor Henry was left even more shaken than ever before. Meanwhile I had remained silent. Offering no excuse or explanation to help Henry either. I was still trying to figure out what happened. I had thought the creature had grabbed my leg with it's mouth, but when I saw my ankle it was only swollen, no bruising or bitemarks. But I had legitimately believed something had been there. I wasn't like my own hallucinations, it had been far too intense for it to not be real, yet I had heard it, seen it, and even felt it. And somehow in the end still had no proof. There was also the question as how it was that I got so far from my group. Ending up closer to our starter point than anyone else at first. I simply don't remember being dragged that far.
"What happened Sherlock?" I asked, but he never answered me. In fact I might as well have not spoken. We drove back to the Inn as soon as John got back. It was a long, quiet, and uncomfortable ride. So I was happy to have cup of chocolate in front of the fire.
"Well he is in a pretty bad way. Totally manic, totally convinced there is some mutant super dog roaming the Moors. And there isn't though, is there? If people knew how to make mutant super dog, we'd know." John said as he sat down with us. Sherlock was thinking his rapid thoughts, still having remained silent through all this time. Whether he did or didn't see the mutant dog something happened, something that rocked Sherlock to his core.
"They'd be for sale. I mean that's how it works." John added, looking sure of himself. "Listen, on the moor I saw someone signaling morse, um, I guess it's morse. It doesn't make much sense. U-M-Q-R-A. Does that mean anything?" Sherlock was entirely not paying attention, the more John spoke the more he wasted his breath. Since I had no idea what a morse code even was I was left entirely out of the conversation. Not that I minded much, I was still collecting myself from the earlier and terrifying events.
"We all heard something." John mused, I wanted to add that I indeed did see something, that it attacked me but funny thing was I couldn't make out the actual vision. I thought there had been claws but that could easily have been twigs and leaves. Maybe I just hallucinated so badly I believe there'd been something. The more I thought about the more I doubted I saw anything.
"Henry's right. I saw it." Sherlock's voice caught me by surprise and I turned to look at him.
"What?"
"A hound out there in the Hollow." Sherlock was blinking rapidly, obviously frightened. "A gigantic hound!" He spat fearfully.
"Look Sherlock, we have to be rational about this. Okay?" John shifted in his seat, "Now you, of all people can't just...lets just stick to what we know." What did we know? Nothing. We knew absolutely nothing. If anything even less than what we originally had before.
"Look at me, I'm afraid John. Afraid." Sherlock scoffed. I wanted to touch his hand, to let him know it was going to be okay. I reached out from under the blanket, letting my hand rest on top of his, my bandaged fingers attempting to calm Sherlock's shaken nerves.
"Always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. You see? Body's betraying me. Interesting, yes?" Sherlock all but snarled, "Emotions." He sounded disgusted with himself and looked at us as if we were insects. He ripped his hand from mine, eyes frantic and angry. "Grit on the lense. A fly in the ointment." Fly in the ointment? What did that even mean?
"Yeah alright Spock, just take it easy. You've been pretty weird lately." John said, my head felt terribly dizzy but I found some comfort there inside my head with just my voices and shadows. "I think you got out there and got yourself a bit worked up."
"Worked up?" Sherlock scoffed. I sensed a Sherlock tantrum coming on and moved instinctively away, as best I could anyway.
"It was dark and scary. John offered.
"Me? There is nothing wrong with me!" Sherlock covered his face, hands shaking and it looked so unnatural.
"Everything will be okay." I attempted, putting my hand on his forearm. This actually offered no comfort at all to the detective and only roused his anger even more. "There is nothing wrong with me! Do you understand!?" He blurted, slapping my hand painfully away from him, glaring at me meanly as if wished our heads to explode.
"You want me to prove it? Yes?" He went on to explain about the widowed woman and her unemployed son who was hoping to mooch off of her. He pointed out that her dog, whisky was a terrier. And that he learned all this from observing I quote: "I use my senses John, unlike some people. So you see I'm fine in fact, getting better! . .alone."
"Yeah. Okay...okay. Why would you listen to me?" John cleared his throat, masking the slight hurt Sherlock caused him. "I don't have any friends." Those words stung a bit and I wondered if he really felt this way.
"How can you say that?" I snapped, "Of course we're your friends!" Sherlock glared at me, grinding his teeth. "You are not! What else did your imaginary fairies tell you?" His mean and hurtful words startled me he'd never made jibes at my hallucinations before, not even when were at each other's throats.
"I don't have fairies Sherlock." I spat with as much equal vicious spite as I could muster. "But if I did they wouldn't be as much of a pompous dick as you are." I shakily got to my feet, hoping out of the lodge, determined to not need help of any kind and at some point made it back to my room.
I decided that I would not be staying and grabbed my bag and called for a cab to take me to the station. While scrawling a note and cramming it under John's door. Once I got to London I'd make sure me and my imaginary 'fairies' were out of Sherlock's hair so he could remarry his emotionless life with no friends. If the hound was real perhaps it'd devour Sherlock.
It's just you and us pet. How it's always been. -Q
I know. -Adele
When I got to the station it was empty, except for the woman sitting alone on the far end of the tracks. Now that my nerves were more subdued I managed to hobble over into a bench, slumping down and waited. The train wasn't supposed to be here until another hour so I had some time to kill.
"Need a ride?" A man in black sat next to me, nearly making me do a doubletake. His black trench coat flapped around his Westwood suit, a trademark for none other than Jim Moriarty.
"Hiii!" He sang in his crazy sing-songy voice.
"I'm not really in the mood." I mumbled, looking away. "Oh, don't be that way. I only came to ask if you needed a ride." Jim chortled, putting his fists in his pocket.
"Why are you following me?"
"Because you interest me."
"Well I don't want to interest you or anyone."
"Then you should have stayed in America." I suppose there was truth in that. If I had stayed home I'd never have met Jim, or Sherlock. And since I was a nobody to Sherlock I guess it really didn't matter.
"Home is where the heart is I guess." I replied somewhat slowly. "And where is home?" Jim hummed light heartedly.
"Doesn't exist yet. If you give me a ride. You're buying me dinner." The mastermind chuckled, pointing out that it was I who should be returning a favor.
"Yeah but I'm providing you with endless 'entertainment' so to speak."
Jim helped me to his black car, clucking over my injured ankle as we shuffled in. As we began to pull away I bade my farewell to the little town and its creepy forest.
DEAR READER(s), ~I know this is long PLZ bear with me!
FIRST AND FOREMOST: I chose not to have Adele in the part where they infiltrate the lab simply because I did not want to continue on with this area as there's still another big area (Reichenbach Fall) that I want to fill plus I think for that part, three is kinda a crowd. And while I'm actually going to have another filler piece before the fall I do want to get things on a move on.
Okay, this past chapter I had to brainstorm A LOT. I really wanted this chapter to make an impression because of the wonderful criticism I got. I did a lot of research concerning Adele's mental disorder, and I realized that her case is really special. Because it's rare to have Schizophrenia and even more to be diagnosed at a young age. I could only find one person (Jani Schofield) with an acute form of Schizophrenia since birth though her parents did not know it until later on. Jani is still very young and not at all matured yet; so who knows what she'll be like as an adult? Many people with the disease don't find out until later on in life that they suffer from this disease and for the most part have lived entirely happy and peaceful lives with people they love; but before their so called 'brake' (realizing something is genuinely wrong), they deny there is anything wrong with them or don't even suspect it. Often believing that everyone is against them and trying to hurt them. Adele is totally foreign to me despite being someone created from my own mind. I know so little about her and it bothers me. She's known for nearly her who life that she suffers from Schizophrenia but unlike Jani does not constantly fall into relapse. Likewise she is entirely different from those who suffer subtly, her meds don't entirely hide or nurture her symptoms (she still hallucinates).
***When I watched the story of Jani Schofield at some point she admitted she did not like being Schizophrenic(she was interviewed by both and Oprah along with having a few separate videos on youtube. I encourage you to look into them but please keep in mind that Jani is a special case). Essentially this is who she is, and though it could not be helped or avoided it was heartbreaking for me to hear that a young child no where near her 'tweens' admitting she did not like it. This bit broke me in a way but also inspired me to make Adele unaccepting of who she is, thus making her compare herself to other, more stable people (i.e. Irene Adler)
I want to know her, but the truth is, all of my research left me with more questions than answers. One man described his disability that he could see his hallucinations, they were both real to him and disturbing. Only ONE case of all that I have looked into so far had caused a death of a relative (his mother). All this looking into and reading made me realize how little I knew of Schizophrenia and brought to light how much these people suffer and are in fear. Yet on the other hand there were those who could live out normal and happy lives. There was another man who had planned to commit suicide as he suffered from his condition, and a stranger happened by and coaxed him from doing this, SAVING his life to which the Schizophrenia sufferer went on a journey o find the person responsible for saving his life. When I watched the video the man looked entirely NORMAL. You could not even guess he had Schizophrenia. All of this made me take a step back and made me wonder who is Adele Banks? Schizophrenia is such an erratic and abnormal disease that my own OC is a STRANGER! When I made this discovery I felt really discouraged and upset that my own character was hard to figure out. And on several occasions I just wanted to give up. Especially for these chapters. But I kept and keep going for all of you wonderful readers. I'd have given up a long time ago. Many of my stories are random, spur of the moment speculations(daydreams). Many stories I have conjured up have NEVER been published or voiced. And in all honesty if it were not for you reader, I WOULD have stopped. I want you to know that I keep going and writing because of you. NOBODY in my personal life reads my stories or appreciates them like you do. Your love and admirations REALLY REALLY REALLY ARE HEARTFELT. I hope you don't think that I say this as 'just another author's way of getting more feedback' because even though we are utter strangers I wish I could show you in person how much it means to me. I really hope that you can be patient with me. I want to live up to the hope you've given me and also meet the expectations you seem to hold me worthy of.