His Doctor~

Chapter 8

Everything was dull.

That's the way I've always seen it. The name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is how my world became a bit more interesting.

People were so stupid. I didn't bother getting close to anyone. Sure I had a few fans... like Angelo, Mrs. Hudson, Molly Hooper, and a man named Mike Stamford... But Mrs. Hudson was more like a metaphorical mother than anything else. I hated my brother, the man that was practically the entire British government. Lestrade was tolerable, but I knew he saw me as a nuisance.

I was stuck working on smaller cases of people who were turned down by the police. The little boring cases that most would overlook. They were entertaining enough to keep me from crawling up the walls. I took small payments from the people who hired me, but that was only to pay for the shabby flat I was forced to rent.

Everything moved so slowly... so boring and colorless...

I got a call from Mike Stamford one day, asking me if I'd like to have breakfast with him. I was working on a case at the time, but it was at a standstill until I could meet Molly later that day. So I agreed to see Mike, although I would only order coffee. I hated eating on cases... it only dulled the senses.

We met at a café on Victoria St. London. It was a larger café than I would have liked, but Mike chose the location.

We greeted each other like normal and ordered our selections. I ordered my coffee black with two sugars, while he ordered a porker meal of three eggs and extra bacon. We caught up on what was going on with our lives... well it was mostly me listening to him ramble on and on. I glanced over several people who were going to have a domestic when they got home. As it seemed every family had some kind of conflict. Mike asked me where I was living at the time, to which I didn't wish to reply. My living conditions were... unacceptable, to say the best. It was better than being homeless... sometimes...

I told him I was looking for a flatmate, but that I must be a difficult person to find one for.

"After all, who would want me for a flatmate?" I mumbled.

Who could possibly live with a sociopath like me? Mike chuckled and said he would keep an eye out for me. Like that would do anything.

We said our goodbyes, and I tried to kill some time while I waited for Molly to show up at St. Barts hospital.

Molly Hooper finally showed up at the hospital and let me into the morgue. I was thankful for her, since she was the only one who was willing to put up with me. She did act rather... flustered around me... but she was a naturally nervous person.

I unzipped the body-bag that held a corpse of great significance to my case. I studied his lifeless face and sniffed in the scent.

"How fresh?" I asked Molly.

"Just in." she replied instantly, "six or seven natural causes. He used to work here..." she paced around the examination table. "I knew him, he was nice." She said sweetly and sadly at the same time. I zipped the bag back up and turned to face her.

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop." I smiled.

I lashed out, whipping the corpse with said item. Six... seven... eight.. nine. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. I saw Molly flinch every time I hit the corpse.

"So... bad day was it?" she giggled, after I stopped hitting the body. I huffed and re-buttoned my jacket. I took out my notepad and rapidly wrote down information.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it, text me." I told her. She nodded, and looked increasingly nervous.