The Voice In My Heart

William

I was in the middle of a chemical analysis when suddenly a warm sensation came upon me. I wondered for a moment if I spilled chemicals on myself but as well as being a detective, I was also I highly trained chemist and such accidents didn't tend to happen under my watch.

Besides, it didnt feel like a chemical. It felt like...light.

It felt...good...wonderful.

I had just decided it must have been due to something slight and unimportant bodily malfunction when there was a knock on the door of the lab.

Then he entered. The man who would make my life one worth living.

The warmth, the light. They were so strong inside me that I found myself puffing out my chest and taking a deep breath rather than greeting my visitors.

It was the first time I'd ever felt this peaceful inside.

You can imagine my shock when one of the men, the short one, doing the same. The other one just stood there smiling, completely oblivious to anything passing between us.

"Hey, Sherlock. This is John Watson. He's-"

At the name the warmth became heat. But it was a glorious internal sensation that tingled like electricity at my finger tips and caused my whole body to shutter.

The man whose name I'd just learned was apparently having the same reaction. I could see from his face that he was just as confused and concerned as I was. He looked up at me with his eyebrows knitted and shook his head.

I had to pull myself together. Now.

"Looking for a fly mate as well?" I asked, remembering my last conversation with Stamford this morning.

"Oh, this ones as sharp as they get." He said to the man names John, being long used to my methods.

"Well, we have a discussion about my needing a flat share and the next time I see you, you've brought along a man who I've never seen before, but is obviously your friend, judging by the way you entered with him and glanced at him at my deduction. He's obviously in need of a cheaper accommodation. Just look at the state of his clothes. John, you may like to know, I carry out experiments regularly, go to bed at odd hours, sometimes don't talk for days on end, and will have clients around the place often. Any strange habits on your part?"

He seemed quite surprised and maybe even a little hurt, though I didn't understand why.

"Not really. I make my rounds on schedule and usually return so. I do a lot of reading and writing, but that's mainly it. Now what did you say a bout clients?"

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job."

"And that means-?"

"I often assist the police in criminal investigations and just as often assist clients privately."

"Wouldn't I have heard of your name then, in the papers, on the news?" He asked, obviously interested.

"Hardly," I said with a scoff, "I barely ever take credit for any of it. Art for art's sake. My name is passed mouth to mouth mostly."

"Oh, right. Ok, we'll did you have a place already picked out or-"

"Yes, nice little flat up aways from here. 221B Baker Street. Oh, and the landlady, Ms. Hudson, is quite a lovely lady. Rents perfect if we both pitch in."

"Alright, let's go have a look at it." He said, slapping his hands on his outer thighs.

Stamford had just stood by the door the whole time looking from to the other of us as we spoke and smiling broadly. John glances at him now as thought remembering he was there.

"Well, you two will get in fine. Yes just fine. I suppose I'll depart now then. You two can handle all thy follows."

With a wave he left the lab and John and I stood staring at each other for a moment.

"So..." He said awkwardly.

"Meet me there at four o'clock tomorrow evening and see how you like it" and with that I peered back into my microscope and remained there for a moment or so, just enjoying the warmth.

He walked out of the room and the warmth seemed to follow him. As soon at it faded I yearned for it. This sensation was nothing like the former one. This was cold, sad, and lonely. It was worse than it had ever been before.

Year suddenly sprang involuntarily to my eyes and I fought to resist the urge to collapse onto the floor.

Then the weight lifted once again and I saw him leaning on the doorway, clutching his chest and wearing a look of absolute horror and confusion.

I was leaning on a clear spot on the counter. We stared at each other for a while. Then I took a step forward and the light got brighter, the heat stronger. No it was his turn to step up. His expression became one if astonishment as he took another and another, the gap slowly closing between us.