Chapter Seventeen - Sherlock Holmes II
Sherlock Holmes was the last thing I expected to see myself kissing late at night while I was kissing my boyfriend, but somehow the thoughts just raided my mind without consent.
As I walked home in the cold night air, I shrugged off my jacket realizing that I didn't need it. My face was burning and I was sweating. I didn't mean to have thoughts like that, and it was only one, but I still thought it. This whole time I was avoiding Sherlock Holmes because he was insufferable and he was getting closer to the truth.
My face was burning and my dress was sticking to my back. My skin was sticky and warm and I knew I was beginning to sweat. All I needed at this exact moment was a tall glass of water and a shower. Despite my growing need for hydration, I stopped walking and heavily slumped against the wall, the coolness of the stone cooling my back.
Of course, I didn't mean anything by it. I had no feelings for Sherlock Holmes whatsoever. Sherlock Holmes meant nothing to me. He was just a game. My puppet that I had an easy control over. I had no desire to have anything to do with Sherlock Holmes, and there I was, kissing him. Well, imagining kissing him, but at this point it didn't matter what I did or didn't do.
I was still several blocks from home and I had no desire to walk any longer. My knees were shaking and my breath burned my lungs. I slid down the wall, breathing deeply, desperate for cold air. My thoughts were beginning to work against me and there was nothing I could do. I just wanted cold air, a cold glass of water, and to fall asleep and let my worries fade away with sleep.
It could have been seconds or hours that passed as I sat there, letting the cold rain that had begun to lightly fall lull me into a half-sleep. I let my consciousness fade away as I forgot where I was. Before I knew it, half conscious dreams and excess thoughts raided my mind and I let myself fall into the insanity of my head. I faded in and out of a restless half-sleep as the rain chilled me to my bones.
I was pulled out of my dreams for only a moment as I felt warm wool envelop my body and a soft touch send a fire through my veins. The cold of the stone building and pavement was replaced with warm, human arms. I found myself curling my fingers into the folds of their shirt and pulling my body against theirs, searching for their warmth. A low vibration rumbled through their chest and I knew whoever was holding me was chuckling, low in their throat.
The person began walking and quickly found a rhythm that lulled me back to sleep. Whoever it was who was carrying me was very skilled at finding the right angle to hold me so the rain barely touched me. Moments later it seemed, keys were being handled and I was being carried inside and up the stairs. Soon the warm wool left me and I was greeted by the warm feeling and smell of my bed. The warmth and the comfort of the wool was gone, but the softness of my sheets was welcome.
Despite the warmth of my sheets, I was still wet from the rain. Warm fingers rested on my forehead and pushed away a strand of damp black hair. I shivered slightly as I adapted to the new temperatures of my bed and moments later, the wool returned and as soon as I felt it, I pulled the warm fabric closer to my body and I finally fell into a peaceful sleep.
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My eyes shot open and my thoughts from the previous night washed over me and only one word shot through my head.
"Frankie." I gasped almost as soon as my eyes opened and I sat up. I tore myself from the warmth of my bed and started towards Frankie's bedroom upstairs, but I was stopped by the sound of something falling off of my bed.
I turned slowly to see a familiar wool coat in a bunch on the floor. I stared at it in utter disbelief. He had done it again. A boiling rage took hold of me and I grabbed the coat from the floor, unable to comprehend it's existence. I had been so weak last night and I had almost no will of my own and that bastard saw me in my powerless state. With the coat in hand, I started towards the door. I passed the hall mirror as I descended the stairs and I paused only to straighten my hair.
When I opened the door, it was still raining, but that didn't stop me from hurrying past Speedy's Sandwich Shop to my neighbors flat. The door was unlocked, so I pushed inside without knocking. I took the stairs, skipping every other one, following the sound of the rather lovely violin. From the coat hanger in the living room, I could deduce John wasn't home and this confrontation would go undisturbed.
"Do you think this is some kind of joke?" I snapped, and Sherlock stopped playing and turned to face me.
"Excuse me?"
"This." I held up the coat, "Do you think I am a joke? A game to be played?"
"Crystal-"
"I was weak, Sherlock." I tossed the coat on the coffee table, "I am always weak. Why am I always weak when you see me. You see me when I'm powerless and vulnerable."
"What are you-"
"I must look like a game to you. I must be so fun to torment. You always seem to know when I'll be at my weakest and you're always there. Ever since we met, you've seen me weak and vulnerable several times and this needs to stop."
"Crystal, I-"
"Sherlock, I'm sick of this and I'm sick of you. You want to know who I am, and you want answers? Fine. I am Crystal Greene, a history student. My mother is a librarian and my father was a detective. My sister and I learned a bit from our father in the years before he died, so we do have some knowledge about the investigation process. I am dating John Watson because I like him, and I think I might start loving him soon. I have no ulterior motives. I am as normal as you can get." I spewed, and Sherlock stood there in a shocked silence, "I'd greatly appreciate it if you would just... leave me alone."
"Wha-?"
"If you see me on the street, don't say anything. If you see me in what seems like a vulnerable state, just leave me alone. Walk the other way. I can't deal with this anymore." My anger slowly melted away, but I didn't regret my words.
"Crystal, I'm so sorry." Sherlock said quietly, but I couldn't look him in the eye.
"I'm sure you are." I could practically feel the sarcasm in my voice, turning to walk out of the room.
"Have I... done anything else?" he asked and my vision of the night before flashed before my eyes.
"Nothing worth mentioning."
"D-don't go."
I was already gone.
I couldn't bear to be in the same room as him for another second, so I hurried past the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I found Mrs. Hudson looking worriedly up the stairs, her hand on the banister. She'd clearly heard the yelling and hurried out to see if Sherlock and John were having a domestic squabble, but apparently decided to stay downstairs when she heard a woman upstairs instead of two men.
"It's all alright, Mrs. Hudson." I placed my hand over hers for a moment with a soft smile, "Sherlock and I just don't get along."
"But, you were yelling-" she said in her soft voice which honestly reminded me of my grandmother.
"I know, I... I got angry, Mrs. Hudson. Don't worry about it."
"Oh, I hope so. I hope everything is alright."
"It is, I promise. Don't worry about us."
With that, I left the flat into the rain and decided that today, I would actually do some investigating. I'd do more research on the 미녀 and actually do something productive. The fact that my back was killing me could be ignored. All I needed at that moment was to figure out what was going on. What, exactly, was going on, and how could I stop it?
Though, from the sounds coming from my stomach, I decided to have breakfast first.
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With Sherlock completely out of my mind, I hurried down the street towards a particular flat. I knew exactly what I needed and if their very own leader couldn't tell me anything, then that would leave me no choice. Spywork.
I wasn't very far away from the address, however, when my phone decided to ring once more. I checked to make sure it wasn't anyone that annoyed me before I answered.
"Yes, Boss?" I inquired.
"You know how I didn't want you to come in because of your back?" he spoke timidly, as if he was poking a lion.
"I do."
"Well, I lied. I need you to come in."
"Why? What is there that could possibly make you-"
"You know how you said the 미녀 were done killing people? They only had the three?" Lestrade cut me off, more confidant now.
"Yeah." I stopped walking.
"Well, apparently, they lied. I am currently looking at another body."
The color drained from my face, "What?"
"Yeah... I need to pull you in, but only to observe the body. There's something you need to see. Come to St. Barts as soon as you can."
Lestrade hung up, leaving me there in the icy drizzle with only one option. With a heavy sigh, I turned on my heel and started towards the hospital. If anything, the icy rain worsened and the wind nipped at my nose and lips and threatened to freeze the raindrops on my eyelashes.
Even with my heavy coat, my teeth chattered and the wind whipped at my skin. I quietly longed for Sherlock's wool coat. Even if I was angry with him and I never wanted to see him again, his coat was probably the best thing to ever happen to humanity. It was extremely warm and I really liked it. Maybe I'd get John to ask where he got it.
Just as I thought his name, my boyfriend called and I was more than happy to answer.
"Crystal, are you okay?" John exclaimed.
"Yes, I'm fine, John." I smiled as if to reassure him, "Don't worry."
"I was so worried all night."
"I know, I'm sorry. I just... needed to clear my head. I'll make it up to you. Tonight at seven, my flat, movies and popcorn." I offered.
"Can't wait. See you then."
"I can't wait."
At least John wasn't angry with me. I never expected him to be angry, but if he knew why I had run out on him, I knew he would be. I'd tell him eventually but I needed time to comprehend it myself. He'd understand that.
I was grateful for the warmth of the hospital but I hadn't expected the chill when I saw the body. It was the same as the last ones, a cut up throat and a bullet hole at the back of the neck. Lestrade and I stood over a metal table with the four slips of bloody paper all in order of the murders.
"The Most Important Is..."
"What?" Lestrade asked, "Is what?"
"Perfect, dead, here..." I offered some likely examples, "I don't know."
"It doesn't add up." he sighed, "What are they trying to pull?"
"It's not my job to find out."
"Don't be like that." he didn't sound sorry, "Just... think about it see if something clicks."
"Put me on the case."
"You know I can't do that without permission from the doctor and he said four weeks."
"Fine. I'll think about it and hopefully I can come up with something before another one is killed telling us who this 'Most Important' is." I turned on my heel and headed home. I needed to get ready for my date.
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I was getting in the shower when John finally arrived. He was five minutes early, if anything, and I was stark naked under my bathrobe. My face caught fire just at the thought and John looked me up and down.
"Did I interrupt anything?" John inquired, an eyebrow raised.
"I was just about to get in the shower. I misjudged the time, I think." I explained, letting him in.
Together, John and I climbed the stairs as I explained to him where the popcorn was and I told him where to find the movies and how to operate the remotes. Once I was done, John ushered me to the bathroom so I could take that shower. He walked me backwards by the cotton lapels of my robe until I was against the wall next to the bathroom.
"John." I giggled, "Stop."
"Take your shower, babe. I can hardly wait for you to get back." John's lips played against mine.
"I can barely wait." I pressed my mouth on his for a long minute before dodging his arm and closing the door behind me.
I leaned back against the door, sure that there was a stupid grin on my face. Even after a few weeks, the butterflies weren't going away. I wasn't sure they were supposed to for a while. My mother always told me that the first few months of the relationship were the best. They were filled with butterflies, wild sex, and adoration for each other. The words 'I love you' weren't supposed to escape the lips for months, but I was thinking of saying them tonight.
The warm shower water poured over my body and the sticky feeling washed away. I closed my eyes and let the near scalding water hit my face so it was easier to wash. The light coating of makeup on my face washed down the drain and I quietly wished I could have had some time to re-apply my eyeliner at least.
I didn't want to turn off the hot shower, but John was waiting for me to watch a movie and eat popcorn so I had to get out before he changed his mind and started a movie without me. I didn't want him eating all my popcorn. So, I shut off the water and squeezed the water out of my thick black hair. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my hair in a towel before wrapping the rest of me in a towel.
"I'll be right out, John!" I called.
Quickly, I dried off and redressed in my clothes from earlier. I was sure they smelled absolutely fantastic, but they were all I had a moments notice. I ruffled my hair with the towel doing my best to dry it out. I made sure to brush it thoroughly so it would dry faster and I skipped out the door and around the corner to the living room.
"John, I'm ready to-" I stopped dead in my tracks at the scene in front of me.
The TV was on and it was replaying the menu screen for Iron Man. The window was open and my curtains were blowing in the frigid, rainy wind into my living room. A large bowl of popcorn was spilled all over the floor and one of two glasses of wine was shattered on the coffee table and wine was all over the table. On the wall, written in browning blood were the words, The Most Important Is...
I couldn't even scream. I tried, but sound wouldn't come out. The blood on the wall was fresh, but the wind was turning it brown right before my eyes. They had been here in my house. I thought there was only one place in the world I was safe and that was home, but it was this that made my walls fall down.
I was in complete and utter danger and there was nothing I could do. They knew where I lived and for once I believed that they knew who I was more than I did. I lifted my hand to my mouth as if to stifle the scream I couldn't sound. My entire body was shaking but it wasn't because of the cold air. I was far beyond affected by the cold.
Without barely a second thought, I turned and ran through the kitchen, down the stairs and out the door into the cold icy rain. The cold barely affected me and I ran past the sandwich shop for the second time that day and I pushed into the warmish flat that smelled of dust and wool. I ran up the stairs, unable to produce sound from my throat.
Sherlock was sitting in his chair, legs crossed and his palms pressed together and under his chin. He looked up when he heard me reach the top of the stairs. His eyebrows scrunched in concern when he saw me instead of John. He stood when he realized that I couldn't seem to get words out. Tears dripped down my cheeks as I forced the two words from my mouth that sent the color draining from Sherlock's face.
"John's gone."