I find myself knocking on 221 Baker Street's door. I don't need his help, I keep telling my mind, but I can't help it. If this man can help me find Arthur, then I don't care about my pride. I keep knocking on the door but no one answers. I try it and I see it's opened so I enter. The building is not the palace I saw when I went seeing my new boss, but it isn't the way it was my apartment before I came here. I see no one around, but I hear voices upstairs, a voice of a man yelling and another voice of another man who is calm saying "I am sorry".
I dare following the staircase and I arrive in front of another apartment from where the voices were coming. First, I turn back, with the desire to leave but then a man opens the door as if he knew I am there.
"Yes, Merlin you can come inside. I am sorry I didn't open the front door even though I heard your knocks." – the man said on a calm tone, going to sit back in his armchair. The man was taller than me with curly dark hair and the expression on his face made me realize he was waiting for me.
"How do you know my name? If it's not too rude to ask"
"You are not that of a professional now, are you? Oh, the detectives nowadays. I forgot how is to work with one. Usually, I am on my own. Well I have my partner here, John Watson who is very interested in my job and always here to help me."
The man called John was standing with his back to me and he was doing nothing but staring to the view outside the window. I try to see what he is focusing on and I see nothing but a tall building called Saint Bartholomew Hospital. I don't say anything and I focus on the man who is sitting in the armchair, the one that just offended me.
"Was it necessarily to say that, or it was just a way of making yourself stand out?" – I say with a smile on my face, hoping that I impressed him enough to help me.
"All that I say is necessary. I don't know what your name is. My brother does." – he said grinning ironically.
Mycroft. How did he know I was coming? Even I didn't know. I was too scared to ask another foolish question, being scared that this man, who seems to be Sherlock Holmes, won't help me. So I just stay there, in front of him and thinking of what to say.
"So, you are the famous Sherlock Holmes, the one all books talk about?"
"Books are a lie. Everything written is a lie. A statement, a letter, a promise, anything that is on a sheet of paper is a lie. The books aren't talking about me; I am talking about the books. I invented the stories." – he said talking so fast that I have to focus on his lips to understand what he was saying.
I stand there, looking like a fool in front of this genius, and all I am thinking about is how to leave without falling into contempt.
"You can't leave." – Sherlock said looking at me and taking a cup of tea from the rounded table.
I look at him immediately and think if I said my thoughts out loud.
"When someone comes to me it means they need help. You are a detective which means something you are trying to do is not working. From your eyes, I can say you haven't been sleeping lately and from your crumpled clothes I can say you didn't have time for yourself either. All you want is to resolve a case that hasn't got to do with your paper work. And now you stay there, not knowing what to say which means you are looking for a way to leave with me not figuring out." – he said glancing at me with a smile on his face.
"What kind of freak are you?" – I say, this words being the only ones which came out of my throat.
"I faked my own death." – Sherlock said immediately.
When Sherlock said that, John took his coat and banged the door without saying anything. I look at Sherlock and see that he didn't move a finger to stop him.
"He needs some fresh air to make some things clear with himself"
I don't dare saying anything because I don't want this conversation to go further.
"Look, I don't need details. And I didn't come specifically for your help; I don't want you to do anything. All I need is an opinion and some information about this place."
"And how do you call this, Merlin? A small implication of my knowledge about London? A friendly involvement from myself?" – he says ironically as he drinks a drop from that cup of tea.
Sherlock stands up and goes to the window and I go near him to see what he is watching. Who he is watching. As I go to the window and watch the direction Sherlock watches I can see John, heading to the hospital, but changing his mind and turning to get a cab.
"Why did it take him so long to get down? He left ten minutes ago." – I ask trying not to be the fool pedestrian walking on the intelligent street.
"He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave so he banged the door and stopped there for a second. Then he went downstairs asking himself if he really wants this. John is not such a difficult person to understand. He is my only friend and if he needs space, then I will give it to him. He deserves it after everything I had done to him. Although he has to understand that everything I did was for him."
I never thought I will hear Sherlock Holmes being emotional. I never thought about Sherlock as a caring person. I always saw him as the rough detective who knows nothing but solving different crimes. And now, I hear him talking about feelings, about space, about doing things for other people. I should ask him more details, but I won't. I am not here to find out what the books forgot to tell. Before I say something Sherlock blinks and goes back on his armchair. I look at the window and John's cab left our visual area. He stayed there until he couldn't see the cab anymore.
"Do you have any idea where he went?" – I ask cautiously.
"So let's see who you want to find. I really want to get rid of everything and take a nap." – he said making me hurry.
Before I say anything, Sherlock's phone rings.