A/N: This was supposed to be a first person pov of Watson from The Red Headed League, as he was in the cellar with Holmes and everyone else. Man it was literal pain writing this. I'm not fond of writing first person stories, so I rewrote this story about 3 times before getting a somewhat satisfactory result.
My chest felt heavier and heavier as time passed. It could have merely been my delusional mind, or maybe it was the strain in my leg that was contributing to my now delirious mindset. I do not usually feel uncomfortable in confined spaces, however, lacking the ability to shift the position of my body is quite distressing. My eyes darted around the room hopelessly, attempting to locate my comrades who were lost in the dark. My mind was drowning, struggling to organize the sinking ocean of thoughts that were now swirling around endlessly like a whirlpool in the deep waters. The amount of suspense in the atmosphere was killing me. My chaotic train of thoughts were coming back, and the amount of discomfort it brought me was immeasurable. It was like the train was coming to run me over on the tracks. I tried to avoid the overlapping thoughts taking over my brain, when suddenly, I heard multiple voices echoing from behind the wall. So he really came, the mastermind behind all this mayhem.
YOU ARE READING
PAIN.
AcakI miss posting here, and if you somehow stumbled upon this monstrosity, please do not check my profile unless you want to be whisked to a world of pure madness. This is a threat.
