The Soldier and his Lover
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- Parts 8
After I woke up in the hospital bed, my mum and sister looking at me with sad sympathy, I knew something was seriously wrong. Then I remembered: the projects, the sting as a bullet grazed my skin, the puddle, the live wire. I destroyed my own leg. There wasn't anything from my players, which pissed me off. Not because I was overly sentimental, just the fact that my bloody nerve endings were shot!
"Where's Mary?" I asked out of instinct, my tone soft and scared that she'd abandoned me too.
Harry confirmed my fears when she shook her head and had the mixed expression of anger and pity. "But, someone did leave something for you. If that means anything to you" she said softly
I noticed a cane by my bedside, and it took me by surprise. I searched for a note but I it was fruitless. But it smelled like yew trees, dirt, books, harmless chemicals, and nicotine. Sherlock. I need to apologize to Sherlock.
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