I stood there, little six year old me, watching the 'oh so beloved' Sherlock Holmes play on his damaged violin. Okay, I have to admit, he played alright but not really my style. He stood alone on the big stage as he played. I couldn't handle that he got all the attention. At that young age, I already made the decision that he would be my Nemesis.
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I walked around in my room, furious. I felt the blood run through my veins as I stared at the papers in my hand. 'The great Sherlock Holmes lives!', it said. A groan left my mouth as I tossed the papers away. My eyes shot at the small box of cigarettes. I picked one up and rolled it around on my palm, watching it close. I raised the cigarette to my mouth and laid it between my lips, not putting it on. My phone went off, making me growl lowly and picking it up, seeing it was my favourite detective. I picked up and put it on speaker, laying the phone down on the windowsill with a soft laugh leaving my lips. "Miss me?"
"Goddamnit, Jim, this isn't funny! Where are you?!" The sociopath on the other end shouted, making me giggle. I always loved it when the violist went angry, especially when I didn't follow the rules of our little game. His voice was slightly angry, but more relieved. Relieved because I didn't actually die. Because we didn't actually die. I finally put the cigarette on, inhaling the smoke and closing my eyes.
"Where I am is a good question. A better question is, who gave you the rights to live?" I purred lowly, starting to unbutton my dressing shirt. "I thought we had a few rules?" I added with a chuckle as my dressing shirt dropped on the ground. I softly hummed around the cigarette in my mouth, imagining Sherlock standing angrily in his living room, walking around. I threw a glance at the laptop on my bed, a light smirk crossing my face. I could just look at the live videotapes to prove myself right, but Sherlock started to shout again.
"Yes, and I thought we both agreed to them. But here we are all alive and well. So you just tell me how you are alive, Jim. You shot yourself through your brains, for Gods sake!" I looked amused at my phone, a playful grin on my face. I walked my way over to the closet, pulling out some pyjama pants and walking back towards his phone.
"Duplicate. Look-A-Like." I said as I worked my way out of the dressing pants. I threw them aside and put the pyjama pants on, an amused smile on my face. They where bright pink with little flowers and bees. "God, Sherlylocks, you really have gotten slow. Did you see it? The earpiece? I just whispered in the words the duplicate had to say and poof, the trick was made. Of course, it took some violence until he actually would help me out, but he ended up doing so. Didn't you notice the hair dye or the lenses?" I added amused, making a little twirl in front of the mirror and chuckling. When I heard the door open, I quickly glanced over at the door. My glance quickly replaced with an approving smile as Sebastian was standing there.
"Duplicate." Sherlock spoke up, pure anger and bitterness in his voice. I just hing up in response, looking the bloody Sebastian up and down. He smirked and nod softly, making me prouder than I already where. The other man slowly walked over to me, cupping my face. I only smirked in response, closing my eyes and listening to the his voice.
"Who was on the phone, hnm?" He asked in his low voice, making me grin and open my eyes again. The expression on the other man's face was jealous but slightly happy, probably at the connection with other human-beings I had than Sebastian.
"Sherlock Holmes." I chuckled, watching the man's expression turn to anger. "Isn't he supposed to be dead?" He growled in respond, making me raise both my eyebrows. "Ah, calm there, Tiger." A soft purr in his ear before Sebastian left angrily, leaving me alone again.
A sigh. One call. Back in my suit. It was all it took.
"Hello, Sherlock. Long time no see."
