Sherlock: Lost Mind
Chapter 3
Mycroft was there just a few minutes later. He tried to hide his worry but I could see it in his usually so emotionless face. He looked at his brother and murmured: "He's not joking. Obviously."
"Of course he's not!" I replied sharply. "Was this what you thought when I called you - that Sherlock is joking?!"
He glanced at me. "Could have been one of his... 'experiments'."
I gasped. "Are you serious?!"
"Calm down, John - good morning, dear brother. You really have no idea who I am, have you?"
Sherlock sighed. "Not at all, well, you're my brother, obviously, but actually-" He shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes, I see. Well, I'm Mycroft, your elder brother, the smart one out of us both, and I think you have to go to a doctor." He looked at me. "Happened anything to him in the last days - any sort of sign or early symptom for... this?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Really nothing. Our last week was terribly... boring, and Sherlock was as annoying as always at such times."
"Annoying? I'm annoying?" Sherlock interrupted.
"Oh, don't worry about that", Mycroft said with a slight smile on his face. Then he looked at me again. "Get him to a doctor. A neurologist perhaps. I'll give you the address of a good one, wait for my text. You will tell me when there's anything new, won't you, John?"
"Of course, Mycroft", I answered and watched him go downstairs.
"So... that's my brother..." Sherlock murmured.
"Jup. Mr. Mycroft Holmes, the british government." My friend gave me a confused look. "Oh, Sherlock, you'll understand."
"Hmm..."
My phone made a noise and I read the text of Mycroft - a name and an address. Being a doctor myself, I already had heard this famous name - Dr. Frank Willows. "So, I'll get you to this doctor, is it okay for you?"
"Well... I think it's necessary", Sherlock answered with an unsecure face.
"Okay. Come on, you have to put your clothes on." My friend wore, as usually in the mornings, his pajamas and a gown. Now, he hesitated a few seconds before he got up and went into his bedroom. My stomach rumbled, but that wasn't important now. Sherlock was important.
We sat in the taxi. Sherlock wore his coat and scarf but I saw that he felt uncomfort in it. Like a stranger I surmised. He stared out of the window, thinking, and it was nearly like usual when we went to a crime scene, until I heard him murmuring: "Sherlock Holmes... Mycroft Holmes... John Watson..." Suddenly, he looked at me. "John Hamish Watson, isn't it?"
Oh, well. So the first thing Sherlock Holmes remembered was my stupid middle name. But anyway, that was good. "Yes!", I said, smiling. "Anything else?"
"Well, our address. It's... 221 Baker Street..."
"221b."
"Oh."
"Is there more?"
Sherlock sighed. "No. I feel empty. Really, really empty. Like someone... has destroyed my hard drive..."
"Hard drive? You use this word to describe your brain."
"Really? Oh, well, I must be clever!"
I snorted. Couldn't be that bad with him. There he started again to show off!