THE DAY I MET HIM

Good moring.

I'd never been a mornings person. I don't understand how people could be! When I wake up I have sleep in my eyes and bags drifting halfway down my face.

So when Sherlock woke me up at Ridiculous O'clock I wasn't exactly happy about it. He was shaking my shoulders and hissing "Clara, Clara! Get up Sleepy head!" under his breath. I groaned and rolled over, squinting at this shadow looming over me. He put his fingers to his lips, signalling silence since there were still people in my dorm.

I was defiantly not looking my best; matted hair stick out at all angles, pale skin and puffy, sleep deprived eyes. He still looked down and smiled, grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the rotting bed.

I pulled a thick, woolly jumper over my pyjamas and followed Sherlock, tiptoeing out of my dorm.

"Sherlock...." I whispered "Where are we going?"

He looked over at me and age me a look that seemed say 'isn't that obvious'.

"We're going to find the professor, Clara,"

****

The corridors were deathly silent. You'd have been able to hear the drop of a pin. The sound of our feet pattering across the floor echoed round the grand walls. Everything was pitch black apart from what lit up with the small pocket torch he carried with him. I knew that the corridors smelt a little but with the darkness swallowing up my sight my sense of smell was heightened and I could really smell the dusky, muted rotting oder.

We trudge down the corridor until we got to Library.

"Come on!" Sher hissed as pull at my jumper, dragging me through the door.

I got in and looked around the desolate room. The stacks of books which were dotted in the room between the tables and comfy chairs sat lonely in the pale light which slipped in through the tall, Victorian windows.

I over to Sherlock and saw he was just standing, staring at the towering shelves and said to him "Well...Sher, what are we actually looking for?"

"Clara, my Clara..." He murmured "We're looking for whatever that key fits in; whether it's a door, a box or a cupboard we'll find it."

"Of course we will. Because we know what and where to look for this...keyhole!" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, his gaze still fixated on the shelf of looks ahead of him "We make a jolly good team, you and me." And this time he broke his gaze to sweep and beaming smile over in my direction. One of those infectious smiles that make you want to smile along with him.

"Oh Sher..." I said with the smile still across my lips. "Where do we start searching then?"

****

We began by looking through the bookshelves. We looked through every single shelf, search in high and low, taking each book off too see if there was any secret hidden behind it.

Nothing.

Hours and hours of searching and we found nothing. I sighed. I stomped over to the oak desk where the librarian was usually perched and pulled back the leather seat. Gently I lowered myself into it and rested my elbows on the table then place my head in my hands. I let out yawn which seemed to shake my entire body.

I looked out across the library. Sherlock was just staring there, staring dismally into space. My eyes dropped down to the floor. The was a beigey-green carpet coating the floor which I suspect was once a lovely crisp white but got coated with a thick latter of grime over the years. It was saddening. A reminder that over the years everything that was one beautiful fades and suffocates until it's grubby and disgusting.

And that's when I had the idea. I gasped.

"Sherlock. Come over here. Help me!" I cried out, leaping out of the chair and dashing over to the wall.

He wandered over, curious that I could have had an idea that he hadn't yet thought of.

"Pull that chair out of the way," I said.

He paused for a second, tentative and unsure of what I was doing. He reached out and dragged it across the floor.

I was at the edge of the library, behind the main desk. I dug my nails into the side and under the carpet. I tugged and pulled trying to get it lose but I was too tired and too weak to do it. A tear rolled down my cheek. Well done, Clara. Your brilliant idea is completely floored. Quite literally. That's when Sherlock came over. He stroked my hands and gently prized them off the stiff carpet and sat me back down on the chair he'd positioned a few feet away from the desk. He got his hands under the carpet and tugged with all his might. He grunted and pulled some more and then - bam! It came loose and with a tumbling force Sher fell flat down on the floor.

I ran over and helped him up. We were both in fits of giggles. Trust Sherlock to do that.

After we'd recovered and got our breath back we went over to have a look a the floor under the carpet. I lifted the edge and peeled it away from the floorboards and there it was. Staring straight up at us.

A trapdoor.