221B Drabbles

by tsukinoblossom

My attempt at writing short stories in the 221-B format 221 words, last word starting with B . I'm really enjoying writing and I think these will encourage me to to do it more often and present an interesting challenge. Note: These stories are not sequential, or even necessarily in the same universe. Unless otherwise specified, each drabble is a unique, complete entity.

55. Box

An experiment in first-person narrative. Not sure if I was successful or not.

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Finally, I think. Finally John's out, Mrs. Hudson is out…

I turn my phone off, won't do to have Mycroft calling at an inopportune time.

I am bored. So painfully bored. I can feel my brain stagnating – synapses breaking up, lobes going blank. Shutting down. Sabotaging me.

John loves me. He loves me the way I am. He needs me like this. He will understand.

It runs through my mind like a mantra, justifying me as I clean my equipment. I am thorough, methodical, sterilising each and every part, all vintage steel and glass. This is the difference between a junkie and a genius. This is what makes me special.

I close my eyes, anticipating the electric crackle that runs through each vein, along each nerve. The sharpness and clarity that's to come. I begin preparing my favoured cocktail, my seven-per-cent-solution, when I am mentally assaulted. John's face, John's voice. Not angry. Disappointed. Angry, I could deal with. But disappointment, that's an entirely different situation.

I make a snap decision, expelling the contents of the syringe into the sink. The water table in London is so contaminated, this won't change much.

Sighing pensively, I carefully repackage my works, tucking each piece into their allocated slots in the velvet lining. I snap the case shut, wistfully caressing the lid of the box.