The Science of Deduction Does Not Extend to Relationships

Chapter 9: What Keeps Me Up at Night

Chapter 9: What Keeps Me Up at Night

            I couldn’t fall asleep that night, there was way too much on my mind.  It wasn’t even the events of the past day that were keeping me awake, the past few days since Sherlock had come back into my life even.  What was going through my mind was my childhood, the first few times I had ever met the sullen, dark haired boy when I was six years old.

                I watched wide-eyed from the window as the moving trucks pulled out of the drive across the street.  Mom had told me to put on something nice because we were going to go welcome the new family to the neighborhood.  “Lilly!  Come down here now will you?  We have to go over before it gets too late!”  I smiled and grabbed a green sun hat and jammed it on my head, running down the stairs to meet my parents and little sister.  We walked across the street and up the long, intimidating drive to the front door of an equally intimidating mansion.  I shrank back slightly, holding onto my dad’s leg as he rang the bell.  A friendly looking man answered the door, followed by a more severe looking, but still smiling, woman. 

                “Hi, we live across the street from you,” my mom smiled at the couple.  “I’m Suzann Morgan and this is my husband Frank, and my daughters Lilly and Martha.  We just thought we’d welcome you to the neighborhood.”

                The man shook my parents’ hands “It’s good to meet you.  I’m Samuel Holmes and this is my wife, Violet.  Now give me a moment and I’ll go get the boys.”  He turned and walked back into the house, leaving his wife at the door with us.

                “It’s kind of you to stop by,” she said and started chatting with my parents about this and that.  I had honestly lost track of the conversation, lost in my own train of thought.  I was brought back to reality by Mr. Holmes returning with two boys following behind him.

                “This,” he pointed to a haughty looking brunette boy who looked older than me by at least four or five years. “Is our oldest, Mycroft.  And this,” he pointed to the other boy who was standing more in the shadows.  “Is Sherlock.”  At the sound of his name, the younger of the two brothers stepped into the light so that I could see him.  He was the same height as his older brother, though both towered over me by a couple of inches.  Sherlock had curly black hair and bright silvery-blue eyes.  He looked to be about my age and I smiled up at him brightly, but he just gave me a weird look. 

            Okay, so Sherlock and I hadn’t exactly gotten off to the most normal start, I smiled a little bit to myself.  It had taken a little while but eventually, after a couple of block parties and dinners with the Holmes family, Sherlock and I had finally become friends.  I had almost forgotten that Sherlock and I hadn’t gotten along at first.  I had thought he was so mean the way he spoke to me, but looking back as an adult, I realized that it was just Sherlock being Sherlock. 

                “Go awayLilliana and leave me alone,” Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes at me. 

                “Oh because you are so busy, is that right?” I cocked my eyebrow, hands on my hips.  Even at six years old, I was fairly cocky and sarcastic.  This particular time, Sherlock was angry because he was trying to build something oh so spectacular out of blocks and couldn’t be bothered with me.  The only problem was that we were over the Holmes’ for dinner and I didn’t want to be bothered with either Mycroft or Martha right now.

                “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.  I am trying to build the neighborhood out of memory using these blocks, but I can’t do that with you breathing down my neck.”