Jim Moriarty, the world's consult criminal, actually has two siblings, Jake and Joan Moriarty. After the death of their beloved brother, Jake bears hatred to the world's consult detective, Sherlock Holmes, and becomes the next one to seat on his br...
"Sher---" Then came a loud thud like somebody fainted. The sound of someone shaking violently on the floor.
"She is having a seizure!" John yells while holding the foaming Joan, "Call an ambulance!"
I just watched them there. My body is completely frozen. Did she poison herself? No, that's ridiculous. She could have done that hours ago.
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"Sherlock! Now! She needs to be brought in the bloody hospital."
I dial 911. ****************************** (Joan's POV)
The world is moving fast as the lights. I couldn't catch up clearly what is going on around me. I feel weak. I feel having a lot of questions but my mind can't even think right in this moment. All I am having are glances from my heavy eyes.
"Oh my God, Joan, are you okay? Hang on there." Moran cling his hands on my bed and pushes along the nurses and doctors. People are talking but I can't hear a thing, the world became mute and slow. Moran's eyes were into mine and his mouth kept on moving. He's not supposed to be in here, right? This is not real. Is this all a hallucination?
The next thing is I stopped and was placed in a room.
"Joan, wakey, wakey..." It was Jim's voice I cling to. I couldn't see him but his voice's direction is on my right. Jake's at my front, leaning against the wall.
The three of them gathered before me. I closed my eyes, drowning in unconsciousness; just down into the rabbit hole. What is real, anyway?
******************************
The sunflower field. The bright yellow blanketed a vast plane near the river under a bridge. I'm in America again. Wind blew in my face and sounds of bleeting sheep can be heard in such far distance.
A whistle darted in my direction. I saw a boy with a straw in his mouth bringing a sack of apples on his shoulders.
"Rupert?" I said in wonder. The sun shines brighter behind him that it blinds me.
"Joan, do you know where you are?" I heard the white figure speaking. Two figures; a black and a white. John in a white lab coat and Sherlock in his black coat. My eyes are still adjusting.
"The white walls and smell of cleaning products tells me of hospital..." I breathe out weakly, "Why am I here?"
"I thought you figured that out by the white walls?"
"Sherlock..." John scolds him and pulls out a scan. I know where is this going. It finally came.
"You...you have a tumor on your head, Joan. It explains your hallucinations. It is not method of loci or whatsoever."
