Michael Holmes: Secret Son of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 11: What have I done?

I always see police cars roaming around the streets, but I've never thought that I would be in one. Especially not as a prisoner.

Michael sat inside his juvenile prison cell, staring blankly at the white walls separating him from the world. It wasn't that bad- there was a bed, a desk, a sink, and a mini-toilet. 

The best thing was that he wasn't sharing the cell, he had the room all to himself. But to think that he was accused for a crime he didn't commit, mixed feelings of anger and fury grew inside him.

Something about killing five boys?! Are the police serious? The only people I've met since I've arrived in London were John, June and Sherlock!

He kicked the desk from rage, causing some of the stationery and the papers dropping from it. He screamed in frustration. It was so loud that the guard on duty had rushed towards his cell to check on him. The guard was relieved after seeing that nothing serious happened.

Michael was bored and decided to play a deduction game on the guard. The guard has a family—in fact a wife and two beautiful children. Unfortunately one of them was thrown into jail. He fought hard to continue working as a high positioned guard here- poor dude, must have been incredibly challenging. 

Since then he had always been cautious, making sure he didn't screw anything up, that everything in this juvenile detention center went smoothly and perfectly.

He eventually laid back on bed and stared at the ceiling. How long have I been here?  He took a glimpse of the guard's watch before he left and realised it had only been 2 hours. On2 hours in this dull cell and I'm already going crazy!?

He covered his face in a pillow and actually fell asleep on accident. He didn't know how much time had pass until he heard the bell ring. The door flung open and a large group of juveniles rushed towards the prison cafeteria. 

Michael lined up to get his meal. He examined the porridge poured into his bowl. Too much salt, too watery. Looks like it will be a terrible meal. 

He carried his bowl and looked for an empty spot to sit. He sat down beside a group of teenage boys that are like 20 centimetres taller than him. "Hey, kid." One of the muscular guys came towards him. "This seat is taken, sorry, loser." Then comes a roaring laughter from the other teenagers.

Michael stayed quiet and went to touch the teenager's wrist. He felt the teenager's pulse beating unusually. "That's a lie." Michael stared at him and his eyes turned icy blue.

"Who are you? Doctor Strange's secret child?"  The teenager pulled away from his grip and continued giggling.

"First of all, Doctor Strange is a wizard with phenomenally powerful magical abilities that enable him to skillfully conjure myriad spells. He doesn't know how to magically detect lies." Michael said, grabbing back the teenager's hand. "Also I figured out you were lying by checking your pulse, that's scientifically proven."

"Science freak." He laughed. Then the rest of his group followed him and chanted those words like it was a spell or something, each time getting louder and louder. "SCIENCE FREAK! SCIENCE FREAK! SCIENCE FREAK!"

This is exactly like the orphanage, Michael thought. The bullies... they never stop, do they? 

Michael couldn't take it anymore. He shot a death stare at the teenagers and twisted the bully's wrist with all his energy. The teenager screamed and rolled to the ground as the guards on duty rush towards him. The other juveniles stopped eating their porridge and gawk at Michael in an uncomfortable way.

He looked at the bully, who was shouting in pain as the guards took out their cell phone to call the ambulance. What... have I done?