Shelter, chapter three
Listen to the song while reading this please (birdy, shelter)
Sherlock opened the huge oak door and stepped into the place of his childhood. He stepped cautiously into the hallway, looking around, so many memories…
In front of him was the stairs to the 1st floor, 6 meters wide, gold with a red carpet running down the centre, but it all looked grey, the lights had been switched off a long time ago, and old cobwebs were strung across every window, portrait, photo, dust laid over every surface. The moon light shone through the windows behind him illuminating everything in an eerie grey/blue colour.
The stairs split half way into two separate stair cases, tracked in opposite directions and then turned and met again in the middle where the stair case split, creating a balcony to look down at the stairs, he remembered when he and Roxanne had stood looking over that balcony, waiting and praying for Mycroft to ascend those stairs with his college friends, so they could shower them with water balloons.
Where the staircase split on the wall was a giant tapestry of the Holmes family tree, the faces of each family member was painted in, he always looked up to the first Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Holmes.
There where two doors either side of the huge area he was standing in, he remembered it all, the portraits, the statue of Arthur on one side next to the door to enter the east wing and another of his brother Harry Sherlock cobalt Holmes next to the door to the west wing, whom he was named after. Arthur had kind eyes and light chestnut hair, Harry however had Sherlock's expression of knowledge and prestige.
Defiantly a sociopath Sherlock thought to himself
He stepped onto the first stair, remembering the creak it made, it was all the same as he remembered, the creak, the stains where fires of the young Sherlock's had gone out of control and singed the carpet and destroyed a banister.
It was like nothing had changed, but of course everything had. He reached the parting, saw the colourless picture of Arthur and turned right to the west wing where his old bedroom was, he reached the balcony, it was still grey up here, grey and black from the moon light that was flooding in through the windows behind him and at the other end of the hallway across from him, we walked forward, towards his room, tracing his hand across the old black banister that had stopped him and Mycroft falling to their deaths so many times before, the wood was smooth like marble as he dragged his hand across it before he finally got to his bedroom door, he stopped in front of it, turning to stare at the door.
Flashbacks from last time, blood on the door handle, laughter from inside and the thump as his bloodless body collapsed on the floor.
He flinched as he remembered the memory, hearing the noise, Mycroft had the room cleaned but he knew it would never be the same.
The door loomed up in front of him, dark and imposing, it still had all the old signs, keep out and explosions in progress and his favourite: Mycroft bugger off you old- Mycroft had ripped the rest of it off.
He stepped towards the door and heard his laughter again and the thump and cringed as he reached his hand out to twist the bloody…clean… handle. It was all the same as last time, history repeating its self, words all different but all the same whispering in his head as he reached out to the round iron handle
Drown… shoot…hang…knife…fall…blood
His hand got closer to the handle and they got quicker,
Scream, kick, pain, alone, grey, empty, fire
He touched the handle and the last whisper echoed in his head
DEATH…
He opened the door, it creaked and he stared around his old, grey, dusty romm, cobwebs hanging off old experiment, dust laid like a sheet over his old yellowing sheets of his bed, the red stain, that had not come off the carpet…
It would be a lie, to say that I have never felt this way before, he thought to himself the question is…How far will I go this time?
AHA cliff hanger! Review and I'll write the fourth chapter!
-Alice =D