Flight and Fall [ON HOLD]

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Nothing spectacular happened in three weeks. Sherlock carried on. His Birthday passed along though he paid it no attention. He only knew it was his birthday because the scientists said so. He didn’t care about it. No, not at all. Who cared if he had gone from the age of five to six? It wasn’t like he’d aged more than a day since the one before. It was stupid. All so stupid.

Scowling and sitting on his bed, Sherlock closed his eyes and entered his mind palace. It was a thing he’d invented... that day. A way to store his memories so he never forgot something. So he could forget stuff. Delete it. Or just lock it away. That’s what he did with the events from three weeks ago. Put them in a room and locked the door.

His mind palace was well organised, useless information thrown away. There was a strange room already created, something that he couldn’t quite reach. Even if he did get to it he couldn’t open the door. It baffled him. Really baffled him. So he just tried to put it out of his mind. Completely ignored its rather eerie presence.

“Subject five.” Sherlock sighed as the stupid order filtered through to the, his, bedroom. Three weeks ago he wouldn’t have just complied like he did now. Three weeks ago he was a different person.

The guards were standing at the door always, arms folded and guns in their belt. Before he got past the door their hands were on his shoulders. Escorting him towards whatever lab would be being used for experimentation. The route they took was strange, though. They actually went past all the known laboratories. This didn’t look good. They weren’t going down any steps, though, so that ruled out underground death chambers.

What was that up ahead? Large... open doors? To... outside. What?! Where they releasing him or something? This was strange. It had to be a trick. Had to.

Turned out it wasn’t. There seemed to be some large grey area in front of the building, crowded by what Sherlock recognised as vans (he had seen them in some of the books they had). Scientists, guards, people were all milling about. They seemed to be getting stuff into these vans. Equipment, everything. Why?

As this question entered his mind Sherlock felt numerous thoughts bombard him.

We need to track down those other mutants. They could destroy all our work by revealing it.

Stupid freaks making us move! But if they let anything out... we need to be at a different location.

Sherlock didn’t even notice where he was being led until he was shoved into the back of one of the vans. The doors slammed behind him. The interior wasn’t too bad. It had been designed for moving people (or mutants), obviously. There were two beds nailed to the metal walls and the floor, along with a single table in between them. On this sat a pack of cards. Nothing else.

It was all painfully white. But Sherlock didn’t really notice that. He collapsed onto the bed and concentrated on forcing the annoying thoughts out of his head. Other people’s surface thoughts. The things they were thinking in their minds. That was what Sherlock was hearing. But he didn’t want to hear them. So he ventured into his mind palace, to stop it. It seemed the strange door was wide open, leading to a world of possibilities. Of mind reading. Telepathy. But Sherlock didn’t want to do that just now. So he struggled over to the room, slamming the door shut. Then it stopped.