Rivers

Chapter Two

This is the first shower I have taken in four days. When my brother was officially deemed missing, I took a shower that night. To think about everything and get my thoughts clear. Four days after, I locked myself in my flat, wearing the same pajamas everyday and editing unfinished stories I had written. Yesterday was the first time I had left in days.

I turn the handle in the shower off and water comes pouring out of the faucet.

I'm almost dreading going to Sherlock's flat, but I love observing him and how he thinks. Every time I see him do something out of the ordinary, I smile at just how different and extreme he is. The one thing I don't want to do is talk about my brother and his peculiar habits. Once, he killed my bunny rabbit I got when I was twelve. He was just six years young at the time when I found him strangling Mr. Wuffleton. I cried for days. After that, my mother finally decided it was time to look into mental hospitals. Later that year, he was eventually admitted into one.

I wrap myself in a towel and go get ready. Last night I picked out a knitted sweater and jeans to wear, so I put the outfit on and slip on a pair of flats sitting by my door.

***
Mrs. Hudson welcomes me in with a sweet smile from her red lips and lets me go upstairs to find a troubled Sherlock. He's standing on he couch again, but this time he's yelling nonsensical words. He jumps down and paces back and fourth. Now he's yelling murderer repeatedly.

"Oh! hello," Sherlock says with surprise when he notices me.

"Hi!" I exclaim, reaching to hang my coat on the coat hanger. When I get off of my tip toes, Sherlock is standing beside me, ripping a hair off my head.

"What are you doing?" I question as he paces to his computer and types something in. He places my hair strand in a small, plastic bag then runs up to me again.

I'm shook as he follows these strange behaviors and I'm frozen, still.

"You smell like lavender," he states. "Did you shower finally?"

I shy back into the wall. "Yes."

"Good. You needed one," he tells me with the same facial expression everyone knows him best for-- expressionless.

"Open your mouth," he instructs.

"Sherlock... what are you doing?" I question him again. But as I speak, he swipes a cotton swab in my mouth.

"Working on your case," he answers. Hesitantly, I become calm again and follow him to his computer desk. Many tabs are pulled up on my brother's name. "Has your brother shown any strange behaviors in his life?"

"He... killed my rabbit," I admit, gripping the back of his chair. Sherlock squints his eyes as he looks up to me, his eyebrows edging closer to each other.

"Your," he pauses and it's almost like there's something in his mouth, not letting him speak. "rabbit?"

I nod my head. This is oddly difficult for me. Initially I thought it would begin to get hard as the day went on, but no. It's happened within the first five minutes.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock says in a near whisper. "I shouldn't have judged you--- him like that. I'm just--"

"Just stop talking. It's fine," I insist, taking my hands off of his chair. I edge my way to the couch and sit down.

"Rivers, will you go somewhere with me? Just for a short while. I swear it won't take that long," he asks, pushing his chair out.

***

Sherlock and I are sitting at a bench at the side of a street, watching people stroll by while we eat ice cream.

"Why did you want to take me here?" I question then take a bite of my cookie dough ice cream.

"Did you know your hair is abnormally frizzy?" he asks, changing the subject. His eyes are locked on my bright red, tangly hair.

"Yes, Sherlock."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, Sherlock."

"I found out that your brother was in a mental institution and released a couple years ago, correct?" I lick my ice cream and nod my head. Sherlock bites into his birthday cake flavored ice cream and then speaks again. "Do you mind if we go to the one he was admitted into?"

"No, I don't mind, Sherlock."

A couple minutes later, he gets a taxi and we drive to the hospital. It has been years since I had last been here. It's hallways are still dimly lit and it still holds the anxious feeling. Every time I came here to visit my brother, my mother would hold my hand, knowing the aura this hospital gave off towards me.

"Why are you scared?" Sherlock questions rapidly. I flash my head towards him.

"Um, this place just always gave me the creeps," I say. Sherlock turns away from me and locks his eyes down the hallway. I do the same.

There's a single light flickering at the end, sending shivers to my spine.

"I can see why," he admits. "Now lets go find your brothers old nurse." He walks in front of me, giving his black trench coat a flip.