Sherlock's Apprentice

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

We finally arrive to a large home. For a small family this is a really massive place.we meet Lestrade and Donovan and I follow them and Sherlock and I get surprised at how he just lets himself in.
"Sherlock they might be home? How did you get in?"
"Um, he's Sherlock Holmes?" Lestrade says as if it is fairly obvious he knows what he is doing.
"Oh right, I forgot." I roll my eyes jokingly and walk in behind Sherlock.
"Ok I will go up to the study, Lestrade you go to the bedroom with Donovan and Amelia you're with me." Me and Lestrade just look at each other like how does he know where these rooms are but just shrug and part ways.
The study is fairly large with a library I would kill for, but I better not say so other wise it could go on my personal record since I am hanging out with the police and all. Not a good look.
"Well don't just stand there!"
"Oh right! But what about security?"
"Places like this are so large they assume that we assume there is security when there really isn't. Those cameras?" He points to a camera in the corner in the room. "Fake." I shrug and walk over to his desk while Sherlock studies the book case. I go to open a drawer when a plastic glove is thrown at me.
"What do you have? A pack of these in your pocket or something?" I put it over my thin pale hand and open the mahogany drawer. I look through papers and find absolutely nothing of importance then try for the next and it doesn't budge and my hand slips off from the force.
"Oh Amelia, what are you doing?" Sherlock looks over at me as if I have disturbed him.
"It won't budge! Seriously, it's stuck!" I tell him. He just scowls and comes over to find the same thing.
"What is this?" He asks but I assume it is to himself because it is obvious I don't know.
"Use a gun," I joke. You see we have this ongoing joke about how he and John have a gun and I have nothing. It's not really a joke. I want a gun and he thinks I am to violent, so here we are.
"Yes!" He whips his gun out of his jacket coat and goes to shoot carefully and precisely.
"Sherlock, I was kidding!" I tell him.
"It was a good idea and you just ruined the illusion of your intellect. Good going." He looks back at the safe/drawer and looks at it and I tense up ready for the sound. He shoots and it just bounces off at crazy speed and hits a nearby window causing it to shatter. We both look at each other and back at the window.
"Well then.." I say and start to walk away when Sherlock takes his phone out. He dials a familiar number.
"What are you asking if you need to bring some bread home?" I ask rudely. He looks at me and presses call.
"John!" He says hi and explains the dilemma. His smile starts to disappear as I hear John explain on the other end. He stares at me like how did we not know this, but I don't know since I can't hear Johns exact words.
"Yep. Bye." He puts his phone down and bends over to reach the drawer. He pushes a button I never noticed before. I grit my teeth and shut my eyes tightly as I realise not only mine but Sherlocks stupidity. He pulls open the drawer revealing the contents and his face goes white. As I look down I feel my feet go numb and I can't take my eyes off the drawer. This is the scariest, most grotesque, appalling thing in my life. I almost break down on the spot. I was so scared. Sherlock looks at me to see my reaction then immediately takes the belongings and rushes out of the home and yells for Lestrade and Donovan, I don't really think I have the guts to move but I run after him as fast as possible and we get into the cab that waited for us and we are driving away in no time.
"St. Bart's please!" Sherlock tells the driver.
"What? Sherlock? No!" I argue confused at why he would do this after THAT.
"Sherlock did you just see what was in that safe?"
"It was nothing, just evidence. Just act like it never happened ok, or Mrs. Hudson will kill me."
"That's all you care about?"
"No of course it isn't!" He looked at me in absolute agony and he finally let me see it. He was scared to. He did see the dolls. The dolls that looked exactly like me, him and John. The dolls that though beheaded, had an exactness and intricacy of similarities to Sherlock, John and I. Why me though? I had barely known Sherlock for even a whole month and I didn't think Sherlock even cared about me until I saw the fright in his eyes. He wanted to sort this out. And I wanted to help but was I just putting myself in more danger? Or was I just being a coward? For the first time I wasn't sure and I didn't like it.