Yellow Skittle Sociopaths | Book 1

11: Brains, and the Bafoons Without Them

"You will."

Those are the last words she said to me before she hung up. I fought the urge to throw my phone against the wall in frustration, but I just wasn't physically feeling up to it. Instead, I leaned my head wearily against the back wall, my fist lightly making contact with my forehead as I shut my phone. I could already feel the poison slowing my brain.

It hurt. Badly. More than Sherlock or Savanna could ever know. It was like having everything ripped out of your head with an ice cream scoop, but slowly, as if the person didn't care if their ice cream was melted or not by the time they got to eat it...

Come on, John... I thought agitatedly.
Even the Uniforms won't but that much time in the loo...

It was only a matter of time before Chief Stein caught on to us, and then we would be done for. I was just hoping that I could get John out so it was only me that would end up done for...

Sherlock would kill me if I let anything happen to John. Well, I'd be dead by that time, so he'd bring me back to life in order to kill me again.

I'd come back to life if Sherlock let anything happen to Savanna, and kill him, but then John would kill me again and Savanna would kill John if I ended up dead and then the chain would begin all over again but instead of Sherlock killing me, Savanna would be the dead one...

Why aren't these connections making sense anymore? I could have spat that out in five seconds flat and made it sound like child's play!

I looked at the clock. That took me fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

I groaned and decided to chuck my phone after all.

"Ms. Louis?" Dr. Stevenson knocked on the door and walked in, a concerned look on his face. I looked up, my shoulder length hair slightly messed up from the frustrated tossing and turning I was doing.

"What is it?" I asked, a glare forming on my face as the Chief of Police walked in behind him.

I sat up abruptly and flailed my arms. "Sorry, Chief. Not answering your questions as I am dying...see? I'm on my death...bed, as I believe it is called," I flopped back down dramatically placing a hand on my forehead. I ended my facade with a slight cough. "Don't come to close Chief, or you'll catch it too..."

"What did you plan that one in your head before I came in or something?" She asked spitefully. She turned to the door, looping her fingers delicately around the handle. "Thank you, Doctor," Andrea Stein closed the door behind her, smiling till the handle clicked, signifying that the door was, indeed, shut. "Cut the crap, Louis," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You're not contagious."

I raised an eyebrow. "What, did you plan that one in your head before you came in?" I asked mockingly. My tone suddenly got more serious. I had the woman who poisoned me in my room. We were alone. Was I scared? Straight from the country of nope.

"I know it was you," I said, sitting up again and crossing my arms. "The one who poisoned me," all she could do in return was smirk and give a questioning glare. "That's why, when I passed out in my house that night, I woke up in the your stations holding cell," a smirk spread across my face as I continued, though, however slowly. "That's why," I stopped. There was more evidence against her than I thought! Brilliant!

"I couldn't find my file at the station, because you made sure there would be no record of the poison in my system until you were sure it would be too late!" I have a whole-hearted smile as I realized just how guilty this woman was, and I had caught her with information. No puzzles, no tests. Just information.

"You can't be serious..." She shook her head as if I were crazy. "The Chief of the NYCPD, committing murder? That poison is doing more to you're brain than expected..."

"And who was expecting? Certainly not the doctor because, they've never played with this poison before..." Andrea's eyes grew full of hatred, and became hollow.

"I stand corrected..." She gritted her teeth. "It's clearly not doing enough."

"Oh, trust me...I'm feeling it..." I assure her. "My brain just works faster then the average human's...which is more than I can say for you."

"I should have killed you a long time ago..." She began, her voice low and dark. "Flying all the way here from Britain to solve crimes?"

"Actually I was trying to get away from that..." I tilted my head nonchalantly. "Looks like it just comes naturally..."

"Steal my job is what you did!" Chief Stein got a little more worked up. "My advisors started talking about letting you take more cases when all you did was show up at a crime scene and make a few lucky guesses--"

"I make deductions, not guesses..." I sigh, feeling the tension in the air as if it were actually tangible. "And trust me...I'm never lucky..."

"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore, because I'm going to be taking care of you, right here and now--"

"You were at the restaurant too..." I said, things clicking.

"What are you talking about?"

"Luigi's..."

"And how can you prove that, one Sherlock?"

"Sherlock? Where?" I look away, just in time to get hit upside the head with the butt of the Chief's gun.

Half-conscious, I can hear the chief pulling something out of her coat pocket and a few machine's flipping on and off. A sharp pain could suddenly be felt in my arm, but as the chief was doing who knows what with my arm, I was slowly slipping in and out of consciousness.

I couldn't last much longer. Where had John gone; where was the doctor when you needed him? It's not like I had eaten any apples!

Just skittles...that one day...

Those darn.

Yellow.

Skittles.