Because Sometimes I Need to Feel

Finding The Secret

It was a gloomy day in London, nothing atypical at all. You were wandering the streets looking for an address. "221B Baker St" you breathed to yourself, gaining the courage to knock on the door.
A frail, but kind looking lady with reddish hair answered. "Ah you must be our new future tenant, I'm Mrs. Hudson," She breathed warmly. "Come in please". You nodded in reply and gave her a curt smile.
"Boys! Your potential new flatmate is here" Mrs. Hudson announced, walking up the stairs. She opened the door and you were greeted by quite the sight, books everywhere, papers strewn across the floor, and a skull that looked too real to not worry you.
A blondish man approached you and gave you a kind smile. "John Watson, erm Doctor John Watson," he said with a hint of awkward embarrassment. He shook your hand. You saw out of the corner of your eye another man, much more tall with dark curly locks framing his face roll his piercing ice-blue eyes at the doctor's statement as he lied on his back and stared at the ceiling.
"She's not interested John, trust me, I know", he said with an air of arrogance. And the doctor-or John, glanced uncomfortably at the floor.
"I was just trying to be nice and introduce myself. You should try it some time."
He was given nothing but a hmph in reply, and the dark haired man continued his concentration on whatever was so captivating about the ceiling.
"Well I'm going to make some tea," Mrs. Hudson announced as she left the room.
"Well, uh, my name is Isabella, you can call me Izz, Izzy, Bella, or whatever else you would like," you said with a bit of a laughter.
"Izzy, pleased to meet your acquaintance. This here is my wonderfully social butterfly of a friend, Sherlock." said John gesturing to the man on the couch who suddenly stood up with a rapid pace.
"Yes indeed it is I, Sherlock Holmes. Now I do not like to waste time so here it is. I am messy, I am irritable, I play the violin when I need to think, and there will be periods of time when I do not so much as even acknowledge your presence. Is any of this going to be a problem?"
You shifted your stance, a bit put off by brutish tone. "Uh..no that's..um, fine I guess" in a shaky tone. You took a brief moment to realise the closeness of you and Sherlock as you scanned his appearance. He had dark hair that curled upon his pale face that looked slightly gaunt. Brilliant blue eyes that stared cold and hard and looked mechanical. He was incredibly tall and had a thin but toned appearance. He was extremely...attractive.
"Good, I didn't think so", the voice crackled through your thoughts.
"And what exactly did you mean by that?" you spoke with a bit of challenge in your tone wondering why he would just assume you would look past his extremely ill behavior.
The ends of his mouth curled up into a faint smirk. "Because you are broke and have nowhere else to go," he spoke in a monotone voice.
"Excuse me?" aghast at his extremely rude but unfortunately true statement.
He sighed.
"The clothes you are wearing are worn and old, and your luggage is slightly damp but it has not rained here for almost 2 days. Which indicates that you have been in the rain with that same bag two days ago. Which suggests that you have nowhere else to go because it would be illogical to drag your luggage around if you were not going to move in the flat until today. So I conclude that not only are you unwealthy, but you also have nowhere to go."
"Enough Sherlock!" John chastised.
Pleased with himself, Sherlock walked down the hall and into his room without uttering a single other word.
John coughed uncomfortably, "Right well, uh, I will show you to your room" He led you off through a door, not saying anything.
You were silent in disbelief. The man barely looked at me and suddenly rattled off parts of my personal life. John glanced at you apologetically.
"Look um. Sherlock was out of line and on his behalf I apologize. He likes to show off and he thinks insulting people is going to impress them. So, I'm sorry"
"Eh, it's okay I don't mind really. It's not like he was wrong," You smiled and shrugged it off, it truthfully did not bother you. "But if you do not mind John I think I will have myself a shower".
"Of course. But unfortunately there is no hot water in your bathroom right now. You can use the one in the hall until it's fixed."
"Oh alright, thanks". John left.
You gathered up your towel and the only spare pair of clothes you had and walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. After locking the door behind you, you took note of how clean and organised the little pale white room was. Nothing was out of order and everything was spotless compared to the living quarter itself. Curiosity got the best of you and you suddenly wondered what lied within the mirror cabinets.
Ha maybe I will find something personal of Sherlock's and I will get back at him for earlier today. You thought to yourself feeling like a small child preparing to prank another. You opened up the medicine cabinet and quickly read through the myriad of labels. Anxiety medications, sleep medications, antidepressants, all with John's name printed neatly on the bottles. Maybe this isn't a good idea, this is personal stuff and none of my business.
You were about to draw back when a strange wooden box caught your attention. It had the letters "SH" engraved into the side. Expecting to find a shaver or something, you opened it and an icy feeling of dread washed over you. It was a needle and some white powder, a lot of white powder neatly bagged in small dime bags. SHIT. What the hell is this?! Sherlocks a..a junkie?!
With the great shock you trembled a little bit, holding what was probably hundreds of dollars worth of smack. You blinked to regain control of reality and silently closed the box and placed it neatly back in its home. You stepped in the shower and continued your night like nothing ever happened.

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