Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 8- Macaroons Aren't the Only Thing I Crave

All I could hear was my shallow breathing in the darkness.

My skin barely gave off a faint glow as I waded in, what seemed, to be an everlasting shade. The eerie sensation made be question even my own eyes and what they were seeing.

Figures surrounded me, moving and blending. I couldn't pinpoint of them as I turned around attempting to decipher even one of them. My mind raced and panicked, unable to stay calm for one moment. The darkness grew closer and closer folding around me. I shook and grabbed my head as tears of horror rolled down my cheeks.

Then a single voice rang out.

"I'll find you."

"I'll kill you."

My eyes grew wide as more tears rolled down my cheeks. No please. No I haven't done anything. I did like you said! The voice continued to whisper and yell at the same time. It only said the same things.

"I'll find you wherever you are…"

"…and I will kill you"I sank to the floor and covered my ears, shivering in pure horror. "kill you."

"I will rip you apart" It echoed all around "apart."

The voice cut through like nails on a chalkboard or someone angrily sliding there bow on a violin and no matter how hard I crushed my hands against my ears the voice still rang in my head.

"…crush your bones and eat your flesh. Drink your blood."

"I will…."

…

A silence crept in leaving a long open void of nothing. And then he said it. One of the things I hated the most.

"… devour you."

I knew I was out of the dream as soon as the voices stopped. But why I was shaking back and forth on a pillow eluded me. My eyes felt crusted shut and my mind was fuzzy from the earlier drugs, but I pried them open to find white and black.

My mind screamed for me to move but my body refused to answer the calls. Voices in the background were muffled and lowered. I looked up to find a fair skinned face of a 18 year old girl. She had her eyes closed and was saying something, but I couldn't make it out.

And then… it seemed to don of me what have happening. I wasn't lying on a pillow. No. Far from it.

Seeing that I am a girl, and not a man, I am still straight. So when a girl finds her face smothered in another girl's breasts it isn't a very pleasant experience. I pushed away as hard as I could, when I realized this, and stumbled backwards away from the girl. The patterned room still felt much disoriented as things moved and shifted. I was unable to keep my balance and fell backward. A pair of arms sled under my own arms and caught me before I hit the floor.

"Oh my Sir! Are you alright!?" The maid rushed forward.

I tried to steady myself with the help of Holmes lifting me. It didn't help because I was soon tackled by the maid who had asked my health earlier. Luckily Holmes still was holding me up so I didn't fall over, but her force was still very annoying. "Oh sir how I feel for you!" She wrapped her arms around my neck in an attempt to comfort, but it came more as suffocation.
Watson, seeing my difficulty, pulled her off of me while I began to steady myself once again

"What is going on… ?" I managed to ask.

"You were highly intoxicated again," Holmes stated while giving me a just-go-with-it look.

"Ah…yes," I replied cautiously, "Who are you?" I pointed toward the maid.

Holmes chuckled, "this is Wendy Wilson. She was a tad worried about your condition. Please excuse her. If you will leave Miss. Wilson, I have things to discuss with my colleague."

Her smile fell. "Can I at least know your name before I leave?"

I gulped, "Devon Thorn." Her eyes lite up and she gave a wide grin. Probably shouldn't have done that.

"Well thank you...Devon," She said adding a light sexual tone that made a shiver creep up my spine. I merely nodded as she winked and left the room.

XxXxXx

I coughed a bit and itched my throat. It was as dry as the desert itself.

"Tea?" Holmes asked.

"Please." The light that was filtering through the room showed how much dust how accumulated recently. I rubbed my aching forehead while Holmes went to get some water. My head was pounding ever since I woke up and that girl's obnoxious voice entered my head.

"So Devon," Watson hesitantly said, "Why are you doing this?" He kept his voice hushed so Holmes could not hear.

It was actually very simple. "It is...educational in a way," I said, searching for the correct words to use, "I learn new techniques and get a chance to sharpen my skills with the best."

Watson fingered a bottle that had been sitting on the mantle piece above the old, smoked fireplace. "So you just want to do this to become better at being a murderer and theft? Kill more people and ruin more lives," he paused, "I've done my research on you and your ways."

My hands shook as he said this. I kept my facial composer, but inside I felt my street instincts crawling restlessly inside of me. In one motion I picked up a used knife that had been sitting on a side table and with 2 swift steps it was up against his throat.

I was still a slave to my emotions. As much as I had tried to lock them away they still seeped out of the small cracks that were left exposed. It felt...weakening that they could take a hold of me so easily. I breathed heavily, venting out the anger inside me, telling me to kill him. A metal sword slid across my side. He was equally as fast.
While I had picked up the knife he had gotten his cane's blade out and put it to the side of my torso.

"You haven't seemed to do your research the right way. Where I come from anyone who goes against me found themselves dead the next morning," I said directly into his ear. The blade pressed harder against my side. I licked my lips and smiled. Blood was oh so amazing. The red had stained my brain, earning for any source of it to rid my aches and pains. Mentally and physically.

"If you don't mind. I would be very grateful if you took that away from my friend's neck." Holmes was standing in the doorway with tea in hand. His expression wasn't concerned, only tense.

We stood all silent for a moment until I dropped to knife onto the floor and Watson took his blade, sliding it back into the cane. Sherlock had taught him well.

Holmes smiled at me like nothing had happened, "Your tea."

I nodded and returned a smirk. Although his expressionism was completely different than an average beings, and it urked me so, it also intrigued me to find out more of what goes on in his head. Crossing the room I grabbed the tea out of sherlock's hand and took a seat on a old rickety chair right by the door. The shadows covering my face.

"A new case has presented itself," he stated, walking across the room and sitting leisurely in a seat next to the decaying fireplace. Watson glared icily at me and pursed his lips because Holmes was sharing valuable information with me, a criminal. That or it was jealousy. They were fond friends after all, it's only natural for a friend to be jealous of a newer "friend." Not that I would call myself Holmes "friend," but that was what was being given off from his physical appearance.

Holmes explained the situation to me, not looking at me just saying what had happened and painting the picture of what he had observed with his words. They were very descriptive, how the woman had looked and acted, taking into accord every single thing she did.

The case itself wasn't too interesting. From the other things I had read in the paper it was just like any other murder. I sighed, "how boring. I'd rather go about testing drugs than have to be around a somber, whimpering woman."

"We have a deal if you remember right," Holmes replied.

I silently bared my teeth underneath the shadows. "Course. Tomorrow was it?"

"Yes. You can borrow some of my clothes," Holmes said from his seat.

"You mean my clothes," Watson grumbled underneath his breath.

I smirked, making these two feel uncomfortable just felt so... pleasurable. I also have to admit that hanging in the shadows of the dim light room made me more... at ease in a way. It was probably because that is where I would lurk around in my normal life.

Holmes had gotten out of his chair and was talking to Watson in the sitting room while I sat in the darkness. I closed my eyes and brought myself to the past. When my parents smiled down on me, and when I ran through the fields laughing with my mother. When we picked flowers and put them in my hair, calling me a nymph. A part tugged at me. Telling me to go back. To run again, but not to run away, to run with the wind and peace. I craved it so much.

"Macaroon?"

I tore myself from he dream and opened my eyes looking up at Holmes who held the tray next to me. A smile beaming down.

I grabbed 2 and twisted my lip into a grin. They were probably filled with some type of drug and thats all I wanted right now. I wanted my head to become dumb and dull... like everyone else.

A/N This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Ruan and our crazy conversation on macaroon fetishes. ;) hope you like it.
So here is chapter 8. Happy end of spring break... although its not very happy is it?