For My Own Purposes
Yeah, I'm not really going to do mysteries. Even though I love them, I'm just really, really terrible at it. So skipping the first case, we turn to about a week or so after the case, which took about three days to solve. Sorry. Just imagine something like A Study in Scarlet but without the Mormons. Sorry again. I'm just not good at them.
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"Yes, Mom, YES. I'm eating enough. No, haven't gained any weight yet, thank goodness."
Sherlock, messing around at his chemistry table, called out. "Not true, Watson! By my observations you've gained two ounces since your arrival!"
Ugh. Sherlock. How to describe it? After that first…adventure? Event? There was really no way to describe what we went through. Anyway, now…now we simply were.
Against my better judgement, I liked him. He was different from anyone else I had ever met. He was smart, really smart, almost creepily smart. He seemed to have no feelings beside annoyance and triumph. But I still liked him. Was I just flattered because he chose me, ME, as his friend and confidant? Because that's what I was. He'd talk to me, explain things to me and stuff. Yep. Ours was a really weird relationship.
"Honey?" My mom asked, her voice worried. "Who's that?"
"Huh?" I said, feigning ignorance. My mom had not been thrilled about my studying abroad, and she was the worrying type. "Just some friend."
"It sounded like a boy. Is it a boy?" There was more than a little panic in my mom's voice now. She belonged to the school of "if you haven't known him for at least 10 years than he's a criminal". Which definitely put a crimp in my social life back home, not like I ever had much of one.
"Uh, yeah, it is. It's fine, really! Now I've got to go, of course I love you, yeah, I can't wait for Christmas break either! OK, OK, bye! Have a good day! Night! Time change!" . I finally hung up. Now don't get me wrong, I love my mom, a lot, but I actually did have things to do. Like studying.
…Right after I looked at whatever Sherlock was doing.
I looked over at him. Lately I had found myself in his room, sitting on one of his chairs, studying. He'd be right there, of course, doing who knew what on his chemistry table. He never used the college lab for any of his private projects. I still haven't figured out what his major is.
He paid no attention to my glance and kept on working. I went back to me book and buried myself deeper into my hoodie.
I heard him sigh. "You can come see if you like, Watson. Before you completely lose yourself in your sweatshirt."
I got up. "I keep telling you it's called a hoodie." I looked at what seriously looked to be an experiment in alchemy. "Huh. Planning to turn your doorknob into gold, Sherlock?"
"No, of course not." He poured a substance in a little beaker. "I'm preparing a mixture of arsenic."
"WHAT?!" I yelled.
He pulled a case out from under the table and opened it, revealing two tidy rows of bottles. He carefully placed the arsenic bottle in there and closed it.
He glanced at my face. "My poison collection was quite incomplete without it."
I just looked at him.
"Stop looking at me like that, Watson, it's not as if I was going to use it on someone."
I rolled my eyes. "Then why do you have a poison collection?"
He in turn rolled his eyes. "For my own purposes Watson."
I sighed and went back to my book. He certainly was weird, but he still intrigued me. Besides, his furniture was much more comfortable than mine was, so I wasn't planning on going anywhere.
Not for a long time, at any rate.
And the end for now! Hope you liked it!
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