Ch 3
Joan Watson
The girl with the gash
Murray lay next to me, his breath shallow. His stubbly chin and and soft skin were illuminated by the lines of light shining through the slats of the blinds. I slowly pulled the sheets away, sat up and stretched. I yawned and carefully got up. I pulled my bathrobe off the bedroom door hook and slipped it on over my pajamas. I made my way silently through the hall to the kitchen. I pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard and turned the heat on, for the front burner. 4 sunny side up eggs later, Murray got up. "Eggs, and bacon?" he asked.
"Just eggs. I've got to go grocery shopping for sherlock again, and she wants them by 10:00am today," I said sitting down at our little table in the kitchen.
"Why are you still helping her?" He asked, "Your not a nanny." He chewed the eggs thoughtfully.
"Because its, its, Fun? I don't know! And its none of your business!" I exclaimed.
"I'm your husband! Yes it is!" He exclaims back. I start to laugh.
"Are we really fighting? Over sherlock?" I ask laughing.
Murray stares at me in disbelief, then he chuckles. He got up and kissed my head. "Have a good day." The coffee maker reads 9:00. I run to our room. I strip off my pyjamas and pull on a yellow elbow patch sweater. I search through the dresser drawers for a brown skirt I have in mind. "Murray! My skirt! The brown one! I need it, where-," something hits me in the back. I reach behind me and grab it. My brown skirt. "Thanks!"
I carry the groceries in both hands and fumble with my phone. Sherlock keeps texting me about meaningless crap. "How many turkeys fit on an average roof?" See? What does that mean? I presume she's high or drunk, or both. A crowd is gathered around the flat. 221B. "Excuse me, pardon me," I push past the people trying to get to the door. I fumble through my coat pockets for the keys, look back at the crowd and resume fumbling. Wait? I turn back around. A woman stands in front of an old t police box. Her long brown hair is loose around her shoulders. On her forehead is a gash, which needs to be stitched up. She wears a brown blazer, with elbow patches, a white button down shirt and a red bow tie. Her knee white high socks and knee length brown skirt are dripping with water. "Are you okay," I asked.
"Peachy!" She replied.
"Your bleeding," I said.
"What! Where?" She asked looking down at herself.
"Your head!" I exclaimed. She touched her fingers gingerly to her head.
"My, I guess I am." I stood there starring at her, trying to figure out what was going on. Police sirens sounded from down the street. "Good then," She said walking backward Into the police box, "Have a good day!" She shouted to me. Two police cars came zooming down the street. The police box started making a strange noise. It started to disappear, ever so slowly. The crowd behind me screamed as it completely disappeared.
I unlocked the door and stepped in the flat. Mr. Hudson greeted me tea tray in hand. "Good morning Mrs. Watson. Do you know what all the commotion was outside?"
"Um, not really, there was a police box and a woman. I'm sure the news will say." I said heading up the stairs.
"Well then. Would you take this up to Sherlock?" He asked handing me the tray. I shifted the groceries and took the tray.
"Sherlock! I brought the stuff" I said balancing everything in my one hand as I opened the door.