Ties to Courage
"Do you plan on sleeping in your room tonight?"
I ignored the question, pretending absorption with the book in my hand. I did not yet know that answer, and, if pressed too hard, my answer would become a firm no. Not yet.
Not after finding that loathsome living rope in my bedroom.
As thick as my arm and longer than I was tall, smooth scales easily climbed my sleeve, wrapping themselves around and around my arm until its arrow-shaped head nearly touched my nose. This was not a toy. This was a young constrictor, already plenty big enough to call me a meal. A divided tongue flicked out to taste my face.
A shudder tried to shake my shoulders. I had been looking for a book late last night when Holmes had barged in with a new case, but his excited enthusiasm had quickly vanished when I shot the object of his search—an uncommonly large grass snake escaped from a local handler—from my bedroom wall. He had been strangely quiet all night, alternating between watching me and thinking deeply. I distantly wondered what so intrigued him, but I did not worry about it too much. I could only be grateful for the lack of mocking. If Holmes thought me as much a coward as I had expected, he hid it well. His only comments had implied surprise and respect.
That still did not make me want to spend any significant amount of time upstairs, however. Even the assurance that only one had escaped did nothing for the revulsion snaking down my spine.
Threading, I corrected the thought. Twining. Creeping. No snakes were in my bedroom. I knew that.
Somewhat.
Holmes sighed, gently stirring his experiment. "What would you do if I told you this was a snake-repellant?"
Silence answered him. I was not a child needing a nightlight to scare away monsters under the bed. I would go back to my bedroom when I was ready and not a moment before.
"Reptiles despise the smell of clove," he continued as if I was not ignoring him. "I do not have clove, but this smells the same. We could spread it around your room."
I believed him, and I appreciated the offer, but I still did not reply. I did not need to guard my room against a snake that was already dead.
"Watson?"
"You wish the sitting room tonight?" I asked levelly, turning another page. The abrupt silence confirmed he knew my true question.
"No."
Good. I hated London motel rooms.
Just a little scene that bit me a while back. Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to review :)