Sorry this is so irregularly posted, I only write when I have time and I haven't had much lately. Either way, enjoy!
I wake with a start, the blanket flying as I flash back to the war. I could have saved you all, I'm sorry. I hear footsteps close by, and shield myself from the person closing in on me.
"Jane!" I hear a man call, distantly. After a few moments, I recognize the voice as my flatmate. Slowly the images fade, and Sherlock's face comes into view.
"What time is it?" I ask once my flashback vanishes.
"9:34. I didn't want to wake you too soon, but you started to have a PTSD flashback so I decided to step in."
"Thanks," I tell him, recovering myself with the blanket.
"Was it bad?" He asks, heading over to the kitchen to make some tea.
"Always is," I reply truthfully, quietly.
"Well, when you're ready, there's been another murder."
"Always is," I mumble again, watching him flit in and out of the kitchen.
"Name's Brian Lukis, journalist. Shot dead in his flat last night," he continues. "Doors locked, windows bolted, just like Van Coon."
"Sherlock," I say to grab his attention, but he just trails on.
"In fact, the murders are so similar, it must be executed by the same man."
"Sherlock, I respect you and your techniques, but shut up." He opens his mouth only to close it again, pouting. "You ramble when you haven't had enough to eat. I hope you're making breakfast in there as well."
"Nope."
"Of course not."
"I'm on a case, digesting just slows me down," he argues.
"I'm on the case too, Sherlock. Your argument is invalid." he stands silent for a moment before opening his mouth again. "Unless you're opening your mouth to eat something, I suggest you stay quiet." He stares at me angrily before getting the screaming kettle from the kitchen.
"I'm still not eating," he says. I laugh at this, standing up to meet him.
"You're such a kid sometimes." He smirks slightly, handing me my mug.
"Takes one to know one," he replies.
"That doesn't even make sense, and you know it!"
"I'm still right."
"Sure, whatever. Let's just finish this case. I want to go get dinner, that we'll both be eating."
"You'll have to make me," he says as I smile.
"I've always wanted to try." His eyes widen the same time my smile does. "Just kidding." Instead of a reply, he turns to grab and apple off the table. He takes a bite as he turns back.
"There, happy?" He asks through his food.
"Yes. Extremely."
"Let's get going, we don't want to keep Dimmock waiting."
"Yeah you do."
"Of course I do, I just wanted you to get going." He opens the door, waiting for me to exit the flat.
"Muppet," I say, walking past.
"Ninny," he replies quickly after, closing the door behind him.
I don't experience PTSD, so I have no idea how the attacks work.
Muppet- Dimwit
Ninny- Brilliant but inferior
(That's at least what I found on the website I went on)
