Chapter Two:
The day appears to never end, I have completely lost track of time so no wonder. As well of losing track of time I have now run out of ink in the biro I was using in my pocketbook, so that's my only entertainment in my slow death gone.
I have no idea of what to do, do I just wait here for death or attempt to find some logical solution to the reason for my presence here and how I can escape this place. What would Sherlock do?
Then the first logical idea that I have had since finding myself here pops into my head: I should use Sherlock's methods.
The sun: that would be evidence of whether it is real time here in this living hell or not. I look at it to see if it has changed position in the sky or not. It appears to not have, is this a hallucination? Further examination would prove this to be true or not.
Is there any other life here? I decide to walk and see what I come across instead of just standing here as I am now.
As I walk the ground below me feels increasingly hard and cracked. The sun seems to become increasingly hotter and it bleaching affect upon the sky seems to increase. Is it physically possible for it to be this hot? Afghanistan seems cold compared to this and I never thought I would be saying that.
After what feels like forever I come across what looks like a structure of some sort in the distance. Maybe this is hope for me, maybe Sherlock is there waiting for me.
It appears to look like a small cottage made of stones, crumbling away like my life surely is now, that has been abandoned for a long period of time.
As I get close to it I begin to feel ever increasingly fatigued. My throat feels like it is dried up and my head aches and feels like the water is being drawn out of it forcefully. If luck is on my side I will maybe find nourishment and some sort of drinkable fluid there, maybe if I'm really lucky Sherlock will be there.
I finally reach the rotten wooden door (this is real life because there is bacteria there to cause the door to biodegrade?) and fall against it instead of simply using the handle. It falls open and I go down with it. Bashing my head on the floor I shut my eyes in pain. I open them and look above me.
Sherlock is staring down upon me, apparently unaffected by the inhospitable conditions.
"Hello John".