Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 26

Within days of mine and Sherlock's night in, I had moved back into my Baker Street home and terminated my contract with Mycroft. It felt good to be back, it also felt good to be within close vicinity of Sherlock again. Since that night, he and I decided that we should take things steady and see how it went since neither of us had much experience with relationships.

Needless to say things were going fine, we saw each other regularly and went out on date nights once a week when we weren't on cases, but something had changed about him. I couldn't quite tell what it was but he seemed different, especially when he was talking to Molly. Those two were being incredibly secretive as of late. Whenever I walked into the room they'd be whispering to each other but as soon as they saw me the whispering would stop and Sherlock would go right back to his microscope. I often came into 221B to find Sherlock sat, as he does, with his hands under his chin and a distant look in his eye but recently the look had changed.

Whether it was because he kept his eyes open for too long without blinking or if it was for another reason, I didn't know, but his eyes seemed to be watering whenever I saw him doing this. Before I get the chance to ask him about it he snaps out of his trance and starts talking about new cases that have come in and before I know, it we're off on another adventure.

This time we were on the train to Devon.

It all started this morning when I was sat with John in their living room and Sherlock burst through the door in his usual outfit of a dress shirt and suit trousers; he was covered in blood and wielding a harpoon in his right hand.

"Well, that was tedious." he said casually

"Sherlock, what the hell?!" I gasped, shooting up from the sofa and dropping my newspaper, immediately going to see if he was injured.

"You went on the tube like that?!" John asked in shock

"None of the cabs would take me." Sherlock said to John before looking down at me and taking my hand that was currently at his face, "Sarah, darling, I'm fine. This isn't my blood." At that my face dropped even further.

"Then who's blood is it? Sherlock, what have you done?" I was used to him doing strange things for cases but killing someone seemed entirely out of the question.

"Relax," he said, sensing my panic and moving me to the side so that he could move further into the flat, "It's just pig's blood."

"Oh, thank God." I sighed with relief. He was about to sit down in his chair when I pointed out that perhaps he should get changed first to save Mrs Hudson the trouble of having to clean blood off of the furniture. She'd have a heart attack if she saw that without any explanation. He saw my reasoning and left swiftly to his room to change out of his stained clothes.

When Sherlock came back, he spent half an hour questioning each of us, including Mrs Hudson, bless her poor soul, she almost passed out when Sherlock was staring her down with a harpoon in his hand, about the whereabouts of his cigarettes.

I stayed quiet through the most of it, I didn't want to get in the way of him while he had a weapon in his hands. He was doing really well to stay clean, I couldn't see why he'd want to start smoking again. As if reading my mind, he turned on me next.

"You don't understand what it's like!" he swapped the harpoon from his right hand to his left so that he could jab a finger at me before tossing it back again.

"I'm sorry?" I said, not fully understanding what he meant

"Your mind: it's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad." His words infuriated me and before I could think about what I was about to say, the words came out.

"Well we can't all be high functioning sociopaths can we?! Some of us have other things to focus on." immediately, I regretted my decision. His anger had somehow affected me as well, as if we were one person. I guess this is what happens when you spend so much time with your boyfriend: you become one. He frowned, as though his mind had been elsewhere and he'd just returned to his body and realised what he'd said. I was about to apologise for being so harsh when he turned sharply to John and shouted frantically

"I need a case!"

"You've just solved one!" John replied equally as loud, "By harpooning a dead pig apparently!" When John said this, Sherlock leapt into the air, literally, and landed sat down in his chair.

"That was this morning!" Holmes exclaimed. He was acting like an impatient child with the way he was drumming his fingers on the chair arms and stomping his feet on the floor. "When's the next one?" he asked, a bit calmer.

"Nothing on the website?" John asked. Without warning, Sherlock got up from his seat, walked over to the table, collected his laptop and handed it to John before trudging over to the window and narrating while John read along:

"'Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?'"

"Bluebell?" John said, confused

"A rabbit, John!" Sherlock replied, irritated by John's cluelessness.

"Oh."

"Ah, but there's more!" Sherlock added sarcastically "Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous," he adopted a little girls voice when he said "'like a fairy'" before returning to his normal voice and continuing "according to little Kirsty, then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry..." Sherlock came to a halt and all at once his expression changed. "Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit." It was official: Sherlock had lost his mind.