First Time On the Tube

The Underground

Sherlock would not ordinarily have taken the tube; in fact, in twenty-three years, he had done everything possible to avoid it. He had walked halfway across London once because he didn't have cab fare. But this time, it was unavoidable. There was no way he would let Mycroft win this. He would get to Cambridge and he would do it without a cab.

As he stepped into the tube, he looked around. It didn't seem as bad as he had thought it would be. It was crowded, yes, but he had at least a foot between every other passenger. He smirked, thinking how Mycroft would be when he arrived first. Even the jolt didn't seem any worse than a minor roller coaster, sans a lap belt. He could do this easily.

At the next stop, at least five people got off. It was even less crowded than before. Then people started getting on.

More people got on than Sherlock would ever believe could fit in this tiny metal box. They just kept streaming in, more and more and more, until he could hardly move his arm without receiving a dirty look. This was not at all what he had expected. But he would do it. He could do it. He couldn't let Mycroft win.

Finally the underground started. It seemed to Sherlock that it would never get to the next stop. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, it felt as though time was moving slower than ever before. Then the tube hit a big bump on the rail. The whole car jolted to the left and he only just managed to keep his balance. Unfortunately, the man directly beside him was not so lucky. He fell hard onto Sherlock, knocking him painfully into the wall. The man gave Sherlock the most irritated look imaginable, as though it was his fault.

His mind was racing-no, careening faster than it ever had before, like a racecar at top speed that kept getting more and more out of control. The information he was receiving was becoming overwhelming. He could see and hear and feel and smell everything. Every dull wedding ring telling a story, every word spoken, the motor rumbling, a baby crying, someone else's rough, heavy jacket rubbing against his arm, the feel of people squeezed up against him-even his sense of smell was overwhelmed with the scents of the metal bars and women's perfume and the smell of people and their sweat and perspiration- he couldn't speak couldn't hear couldn't smell couldn't see as his knees buckled and he fell heavily against his fellow passengers.