Ok, this is the third installment of my story. As I said before, none of this belongs to me. Well, maybe the plot and the computer and... I'm rambling. Lets just say that I don't own the characters or a lot of other things.
We have a tornado watch right now, so this has to be really quick. Oh, crap, lightning just flashed. So, yeah, it's gotta be really quick. So...
Chapter Three: Two Attempted Murders
I stormed out of my French class very angry. I had gotten an 'F' on my report card! I was very ticked, of course.
"Dang blasted stupid French teacher. 'Oh, you spelled Bonjour wrong. Oh, you suck. Oh, si'l vous plait, mademoiselle'. Jerk, how do you say that in French!" I muttered as I spun the combination to my locker. In my haste I missed the sign for the dance on Friday, and probably wouldn't have noticed it, if I hadn't dropped my books.
As I knelt (still muttering every curse word known to man) I looked at the sign in front of me. It was announcing a dance. Everybody was asked to attend, and you had to have a dance partner. I studied it for a moment, then decided what I was going to do.
I walked to Advanced Chemistry and sat down next to Holmes. He was mixing a couple of chemicals, mumbling softly beneath his breath.
"Holmes, there is a dance on Friday that I'd like to attend. But you have to have partner. Do you think..." I trailed off. He looked up from his chemicals, highly amused.
"...That I would like to accompany you? You know I hate social events, Watson. Almost as much as I hate Jeffery. But, as it's for you, I shall attend. Next time, though, I would thoroughly enjoy seeing you on your knees and begging," he replied. I gaped at him, then began to laugh, earning a glare from Mr. Deqlarm, the chemistry teacher.
"You're a life saver Holmes. Thanks. You won't regret it," I whispered, as class had begun. He looked up suddenly, very disturbed.
"Formal?" he asked. I looked at him.
"Formal wear, you mean? Yes, it's formal. What are you going to wear?" I asked. Holmes glared at me.
"You know I never reveal what I'm going to do. I'll tell you this much, I won't be wearing a tuxedo," he answered.
That day at lunch I sat down next to Holmes. He was drinking his usual tea that he brought from home, for he preferred the taste of it to milk or coffee. But today he grimaced whenever he took a sip. I noticed and asked him about it.
"Oh, Charise made it for me today. I was going to be late to school. She added a new ingredient, said her child liked it in his tea," he said. I grinned.
"She didn't really say that, did she," I remarked. He smiled as he raised the cup to his lips.
"No. But she implied it. She said that she added a new ingredient. But the writing on the paper that she was looking off of was a child's, possibly our age. She already told us that she had a son, so I knew that the writing was her son's. And since the paper was much aged, I knew that the child liked it in his tea," he said, draining the cup and putting it back in his bag. I pulled out my sandwich and looked at it.
"Ew, what is this?" I asked, pulling out the flimsy meat from in between the two bread pieces. Holmes chuckled lightly and tossed me his sandwich. I looked at him gratefully as he pulled out his apple and bit into it. But a frown crossed his face when he did. I looked at him thoughtfully.
"What is it Holmes?" I asked. He usually liked his apples. He threw his apple away.
"I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," he murmured.
Holmes wasn't in school the next day. I took nothing of it, and assumed that something had came up, or he didn't feel well. But when he didn't arrive at school the next day, I grew quite worried. Holmes once told me that he never missed school if he could help it, and if he truly was sick, he would only miss one day before coming back. I decided something was wrong. When I got home I called the Holmes residence.
"Hello?" asked a harsh voice when the phone was finally picked up.
"Hello, may I speak to... Sherlock please?" I asked politely.
"No, he ain't well right now. Says weird things. Keeps saying 'Get Watson'. I think he's gone insane," the voice said nastily. I frowned.
"I need to come over and give him his homework. May I do that?" I asked, determined to see him.
"Sure, like I really care," the man said, hanging up.
I grabbed a few of my things and threw them in my backpack, hoping it looked like homework. I quickly told my mom I was going out, and ran down the street to Holmes' place. I knocked on the door, and his father answered it.
"You that girl that called?" he asked. I nodded. He pointed me in the direction of his room and I ran upstairs and knocked on the door.
"Come in," said a weak voice. I entered slowly.
Holmes lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His face was twice as pale as it usually was, and he looked absolutely malnourished. I ran to his side instantly.
"OH Holmes! What has become of you?" I cried. He smiled compassionately and took my hand in his.
"I seem to have come down with a slight illness Watson," he whispered, his voice cracking in the middle. I forced a laugh.
"SLIGHT? You look like you're dying! Whatever is the matter?" I asked.
"I don't wish to eat, it hurts to move, I can't sleep, I have a mild fever and- do you wish for me to go on?" he asked, stopping in the middle of is ramblings. I shook my head.
"Was it something you ate? Are you talking medication? Have you been to the doctor?" I asked in rapid succession. He sighed.
"No to all three, Watson. Father does not wish to spend the money on a doctor or medication. And food does not cause this," he said, closing his eyes. I gripped his hand.
"Come on, I'm taking you to the doctor." I yanked him from his bed. He cried out in pain.
"No! Just leave me here. I'll be fine!" he rebuked. I shook my head and helped him down the ladder we had planted off his window. I helped him to my house.
When we got there, I sat him down on the couch and ran for my mom. She looked at me in surprise as I barged into her bedroom.
"What is it, honey?" she asked kindly.
"Holmes is quite ill, and his father won't take him to the doctor. We need to take him to the emergency room, now!" I said quickly. She jumped up and ran into the living room.
Holmes looked horrible. It was as though our walk had tired him out. His eyes were closed, and he was sweating very badly. Mom walked forward and placed a cool hand on his brow. As soon as she touched him, Holmes jumped back with a yell. Mom looked at him gently and held a hand out to him. He wouldn't let her touch him. After five minutes though, his body gave up and he passed out. I panicked, or course. Mom scooped him up in her arms and ran to the car. I jumped in and we rushed to the hospital.
We spent over an hour in the waiting room, my mom sitting calmly in a chair, and me pacing back and forth. Finally, a doctor approached us.
"It's a good thing you got him here soon. Miss Watson, may I speak to you alone?" the doctor asked. Mom nodded towards me, and I followed the doctor. We entered a room that was unoccupied and he sat me down.
"Miss Watson, does anybody have it out for Mr. Holmes?" he asked. I frowned.
"Why do you wish to know?" I replied. He sighed.
"This isn't easy for me to say, but you friend was poisoned. Another 48 hours and he probably would have slipped into a coma," the doctor said. I gasped, horrified. Holmes had nearly died?
"May-may I see him please?" I asked shakily. The doctor shook his head.
"He's unconscious right now miss. I don't think he could talk to you," the doctor said. I looked at him and scowled.
"Please? I just want to see him. I don't care if he can't talk," I begged. The doctor smiled and saw how desperately I need to see him. He took me to a room down the hall and opened the door. I cautiously entered the white room, and the doctor shut the door behind me.
Holmes lay in one of the beds, breathing shallowly, with a tube connected to his arm. Ever curious about medical things, I stepped forward and looked at what it was connecting to. It was attached to one of those feeder things. It was feeding him. I reached out to touch the tube when a gentle voice shattered the silence of the room.
"I don't think the doctor would like you to do that," it said. I looked over at Holmes. His eyes were open! He had awoken! I rushed forward and hugged him.
"Holmes... oh thank God you are all right. I nearly lost you," I choked as I burst into tears. He took me in his arms.
"It's all right Watson. It's all right," he whispered.
Holmes was released from the hospital the following day, Thursday. He and I spent the day at my house sitting on the sofa and watching TV together, rather than go to school. He was still weak, but he promised to take me to the dance. My mom was letting him stay for at least a week. She had gone to court and told the judge about how Holmes' dad was treating him. The judge was allowing Holmes to stay for one week, but that was it.
Friday he disappeared from our house. He explained to me at school that he wanted to stay at his house, at least today. I agreed, but only if he promised after the dance to come straight home with me. He consented.
After school I ran home. Mom was going to help me get ready. She had picked out a dress for me and everything! I was very excited. I changed into the dress and then turned to my mom for help with my hair. She placed me in front of her vanity and began brushing my straight black hair.
"So, do you like Sherlock?" she asked. I smiled shyly.
" I don't know... I think I do, but I can't confuse love for loyalty towards him," I remarked. Mom smiled.
"Good thinking kiddo. I really like him though. He's got a good head on his shoulders," she said. She twisted my hair and pulled it up into a bun. I gaped at my transformed self and stood. Mom hugged me and drove me to the dance.
When I got inside I leaned against the wall, very nervous. All the girls looked twice as good as me. What made me think Holmes would want to go with me?
Nonsense, I thought, He wouldn't of agreed to go with me if he didn't want to.
I felt a slight tapping on my shoulder and spun to see Holmes standing next to me. He still looked dreadfully pale, but he no longer looked like he was going to collapse, which I took as a good sign. He smiled at me.
"Hello Watson. You're looking lovely this evening" he stated, as though he said it everyday. I blushed and scanned him.
He was wearing blue dress pants, an white shirt, and he had something in his hand. It was a small box. I looked at it closer, but he caught me.
"Ah, looking at my little box, are you? I shouldn't of tried to hide it form you," he said teasingly. Holmes tossed the box to me. I looked at it curiously.
"Open it," he urged. I consented and opened the small box and gasped.
Inside was a stunning necklace, with stones glittering from it.
"It was my mothers. She told me to give it to someone that I cared about. And I haven't had as good friend like you since... ever" he finished lamely. I gaped at it and finally found the words to speak.
"Oh, Holmes. Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it!" I uttered. He smiled.
"It's real diamonds and sapphires. Let me put it one you," he said. I gave the beautiful necklace to him and he unclasped it and put it around my neck.
"There. It looks stunning on you Jenny," he said carefully. I was shocked when I finally realized what he said. He had called me by my first name. He had never done that before. I looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and led me onto the dance floor.
We danced for half of the evening. I was surprised to see many of the girls looking at me enviously. I had though Holmes to be as unpopular as I. But, I reflected, he was rather good looking. Many girls would be lucky to get here hands on him.
The dance has supposed to be two hours long. But it didn't last that long. Around 9:00 something terrible happened.
Holmes and I were dancing, I pressed close to him, his head on mine. He pulled me closer to him all of a sudden, his body tense. I froze and heard what had made him stop.
Someone was loading a gun.
Guns weren't allowed, and by the footsteps, it was obviously a student. Suddenly, the lights went out. I clung to Holmes. I was terrified of the dark, and I was thankful that he was here to face it with me.
"Let go Watson. I need to see something," he whispered urgently. I let go of him, with every intention of staying with him, but he disappeared through the masses of people. I stood there very much alone, when a gunshot ran out.
Than another.
The students began screaming and pushing past one another. I stood there in the mayhem of it all, when someone running past me grabbed my arm and pulled me. The next thing I knew, I heard a gunshot go off right next to me. It flew past me, thankfully, but only because the person pulling me had pulled me out of the way.
I fell to the floor, with the person still holding onto to me. In fact, the second I fell, the figure hugged me. Confused, I looked at the person's face. It was Holmes.
"Holmes! What is happening? Was that bullet meant for me, or someone else?" I asked amongst the chaos, pulling away from him. He didn't answer, he only pulled me to him and rocked me. I was taken aback. Holmes wouldn't reply, but from his actions, I knew that bullet was meant for me.
My mom picked us up later, after the police had been called in. Holmes hadn't spoken through the entire ordeal, just stared into space, refusing to let go of me. We went home and I curled up in my own bed, feeling very safe and happy. In the middle of the night, however, something woke me up.
It was a soft yell that awoke me. It occurred to me that the voice was Holmes' and so I pulled a bathrobe around me and walked to his room quickly. I left the light off and sat down by him.
"Holmes, are you all right?" I asked. He sobbing violently into his hands. He looked at me, obviously shaken.
"Yes, I'm fine Watson. I just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep," he said uncomfortably as he wiped his tears away. I looked at him.
"You aren't fine. Holmes, you haven't spoken since-since I was shot at. Is that it then? You were upset about that?" I asked. He didn't answer, merely looked down. I pulled him into a hug, and he began to cry again, softer though.
"I don't want you to die! I've never really had a friend. I just don't want you to die," he whispered. I smiled.
"So, you're as distraught about losing me as I am about losing you," I answered. Suddenly he began shaking. I thought he was crying, but when I looked at him, I saw he was laughing.
"What?" I asked, offended. He cracked up.
"Here I am, crying! Me, the one who never shows emotion, crying! If only someone could see us now! I can just imagine what it looks like!" he laughed. I bit my lip, then dissolved into helpless laughter as well.
"You goose! You aren't supposed to laugh after you cry!" I giggled. He cracked up again.
Holmes, I realized then, was very much like his great-great-great grandfather. Yet, when it came down to friendship, he would laugh, cry, smile and show many emotions. And in the future, it would help us with a very serious case.
So, what do you think? Is it good enough? In case you're wondering, I have a tendency to beat up my favorite characters. But I swear I won't beat Holmes up much more. Please review. So far I have four reviews (which is more than I expected). Hey, even if you have to flame me, it's more than welcome.
