From there he just closed off. Sherlock shut down.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"It-it was nothing." Sherlock dismissed.
"Don't lie to me."
"I told you, it doesn't matter!"
"Sherlock!"
"Just Leave. Me. Alone." Sherlock's voice forced. "Please."
John surveyed Sherlock. He was looking visibly shaken, and his face hadn't regained any of it's color.
"Alright."
"Just know that when you decide to stop being an idiot, you'll have someone waiting to help you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Sherlock stared off, clearly distracted.
John sighed and left the room.
No! I didn't do that! I-I can't have... Why would I-? It doesn't make any sense!
Sherlock stared up at the ceiling.
Why can't I remember? Sherlock thought. Then another thought entered his mind.
Do I want to?
"Is he still in there!?" Jayden asked, rolling his eyes as he flopped onto the sofa.
John bit his lip in an attempt not to snap at Jayden.
Sherlock doesn't want him to know.
John had time enough to drink one cuppa while reading the newspaper before Sherlock finally emerged from his room. When he did, his fingers were flying across the screen of his mobile.
"Lestrade's got a case, suicide meant to look like murder. A fishy scene, seems like. Who's coming with me?" Sherlock still didn't look up from the mobile.
"Meet you at the door!" Jayden grinned, before running to get his shoes.
"I could just stay here..." John trailed off. There was a ding on Sherlock's phone.
"Nope, there's where you're wrong." Sherlock said, as he pulled on his coat. "Grab your things, just got another text, victim is still alive."
"Wait, what?" John's eyes squinted in confusion.
"In a coma." Sherlock said. "She's been poisoned... Maybe a murder after all. Interesting..."
Sherlock slid the phone back into his pocket, and walked towards the door where Jayden was already waiting.
"Ready?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh yeah." Jayden grinned.
John shook his head.
"What am I going to do with you two?"
Keep it in check, get things back to normal. Come on, act normal, think- normal. Push this from your mind.
Sherlock kept tapping away at his phone, trying to focus on the case.
It's poison, this is interesting. Chemistry, chemistry, chemistry...
"Stop Jayden." Sherlock muttered as he stared into the glaring phone.
"How did you-"
"Just because I'm not looking at you doesn't mean that I can't tell when you are mimicking my every action." Sherlock muttered. "Do something useful."
"Like what?"
"Go over the case, go over what you know so far. See if you can form any theories." Sherlock said.
"That's sort of your department."
"I'm busy, so it's yours now." Sherlock said. "I need to know what to research, and it would be much quicker for you to come up with the theories, and for me to research them than for me to do both jobs by myself."
"We could swap?" Jayden said hopefully.
"No, you need the practice. Now go."
"Thanks a lot." Jayden mumbled as he stared at the top of the cab, hoping for ideas to come to mind.
"Could be... she came home, over dosed on some sort of pill." Jayden said. "Or... might not even be on purpose at all, could have been an accident, over dose on sleeping pills. Or murder. Could be murder."
"Attempted murder."
"Whatever." Jayden said. "If it was murder, chances are she'd know the person and-."
"Probability suggests that-"
"Will you stop interrupting me?!"
"No." Sherlock continued to type into his phone.
"Then at least stop correcting my statements!" Jayden complained. "You're almost as bad as Mom!"
Sherlock froze.
He was silent the rest of the trip.
Lestrade walked up to them as they exited the cab. Sherlock twitched as Lestrade grabbed his shoulder, tugging him towards the scene of the crime.
"I'm walking plenty fast, Lestrade." Sherlock muttered. "You don't have to pull me along."
"You'd be running to it if you knew what was in there." Lestrade said.
"You over estimate my enthusiasm." Sherlock said.
"I don't think so." Lestrade's eyebrows raised. "This one, this one's a masterpiece even I'll admit."
Sherlock took the last step, and entered the room. Immediately, his body stilled as his eyes were drawn around the scene.
There was a slight chill to the air and the place smelled... clean. Completely clean. Not the smell of a hospital, not of antiseptic, but the smell of air cleansed in a purifier. The room- spotless. Perfect, and without blemish. Perfectly painted walls, perfectly aligned books on the shelves, perfectly fluffed pillows, and a shining kitchen sink. The island, which joined the kitchen and living room, betrayed no smudge. The light lacked warmth, yet couldn't be considered clinical. It was simply cold. A shroud of mystery surrounded the area, and many a suspicion developed based on it's perceived perfection.
Sherlock slipped one hand out of his gloves and slowly slid his finger across a shelf, then drew it up near to his eyes which flicked from place to place as he examined it. He took a magnifier from his pocket and began to take in every detail.
"What are lookin' at, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.
His gaze was unfocused. That was the first thing John noticed. Sherlock was either in his mind palace and wasn't paying attention, or was being pulled back into his own personal nightmare.
"Shhh... Calm down... Sherl- calm down!"
Arms wrapped around him. Wet arms, slick with blood.
It was that boy again.
"I told you not to come out." the boy said, "Come on, we've got to go. Hurry."
The glimpse of a face, blurred by flash light.
Sherlock felt the rough forest ground beneath his toes, nuts and twigs digging into his feet.
"You killed him..." Sherlock stated. "You- You killed Daddy." He spoke in a child's whisper, the tone changed, but not the volume.
"I know Sherlock," The boy answered, but we had to get away from him."
"We forgot Mum. We have to go back." Sherlock grabbed the older boy's sleeve.
The older boy stopped, and knelt to Sherlock's level. Softness, with only a hint of fear, graced his eyes.
"Mummy is gone, Sherlly, she's dead."