Anatomically Correct Heart

Antique

Sherlock watched as Eleanor walked out of his room, carrying his blanket with her. Her hair was tussled and messy atop her head. There were dark bags under her eyes. She wore one of Sherlock's university jumpers, that reached down to her knees, where she wore nothing else.

He ignores the feeling in his stomach as he sees his jumper ride up on her, exposing her upper thigh. "Sleep well?"

She groans and grabs a mug of tea from the kitchen table, then moves to John's chair, curling up into a ball in the chair.

"There was a package for you this morning," Sherlock says, getting up and picking up the antique wooden box from his desk.

Eleanor spontaneously springs to life. "Don't!" She exclaims, snatching the box from his hands.

"What's in it?" Sherlock asks.

Eleanor shakes her head and goes back to John's chair. "It's..." She opened the box and threw it to the ground in horror. "Oh god!"

Sherlock scrambles to pick up the box. Sitting perfectly inside the box, was a still beating heart. The arteries were perfectly cut, as if a surgeon had cut it out. Small trickles of blood pumped out of it. Sitting underneath it was a journal.

"I'll call Lestrade," Sherlock says, taking his phone from his pocket. He dials his number, setting the box down on the desk. 

"Sherlock?" Lestrade asks.

"There's a human heart of a 34 year old sitting in an antique box with a journal in it sent to Eleanor," Sherlock says. "I'd surely like you and a squad car to come down to Baker Street." 

"A human heart?!" Lestrade asks. "Hell, I'll bring the whole forensic team!" 

"Do what you wish, just please come quick," Sherlock says, looking over at Eleanor, who was shaking.

"Alright- we'll get there soon," Lestrade says. 

Sherlock shut his phone, and turned to Eleanor. "Do you have any idea who'd do this?" 

"I..." She puts a hand over her mouth. "No, James..."

"James, has he done anything like this before?" Sherlock asks.

"No."

Sherlock kneels down in front of Eleanor. His hands shake as he reaches for her face, cupping it in his hands. "Eleanor, you're in safe hands. No one will harm you."

Eleanor's eyes shimmered with tears. Before Sherlock can protest, she jumps into his arms. He holds her as close as possible, setting his head on the top of her head. He can feel the tears soaking through his shirt, but he doesn't care. He'd do anything to keep her safe. 

"Am I interrupting something?" 

Sherlock looks up to see Lestrade. "The box is on the desk," Sherlock says, lifting Eleanor up as he stands. He carries her back into his room and tucks her into the covers. "I'll be back soon." She nods. As he's walking out, he hears a sob escape her lips.

Lestrade is standing above she box, scratching his head with a disgusted look on his face. "What sort of person does this?" He asks.

"A villain," Sherlock says.

The forensic people come in, examining the box and placing the objects in evidence bags.

"When you're done with analyzing the evidence do you think..." Sherlock trails off and looks towards his bedroom door.

Lestrade nods. "Yes, I think I can do that."

"Good," Sherlock says.

"There will be an officer patrolling the area for the next twenty-four hours if anything else happens," Lestrade says.  

"Yes, thank you," he says.

"And, er... I'll contact John," Lestrade says.

"Why would you do that?" Sherlock asks.

Lestrade gives him a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me  look. "Because you're girlfriend was just sent a human heart in the mail." 

"So?" 

"It's traumatizing, Sherlock. John knows a good psychiatrist-"

"No, he left her practice a week after he met me," Sherlock says.

"But after the two years, Sherlock," Lestrade says. There's a prolonged silence before Lestrade says, "I'll also try and find any family members of-"

An ear piercing scream comes from Sherlock's bedroom. Immediately, he goes running into the room.

Sitting atop of Eleanor is a mangled mess of what once used to be a man. Where the heart once was lay a mess of other internal organs, bloodied and falling atop of Eleanor. Its face, although gnarled and horrific, still lay bear the identity of the man. The man who had committed suicide once before and had came back to life, but this time, there was no reincarnation. Staring down at Eleanor with bloodshot eyes and the pale face of death, was her brother.

~