perception of the mind (sh adaptation)

Sixteen • Caged

"You can't defeat the darkness by keeping it caged inside of you."

-Seth Adam Smith, 1991-

▪︎▪︎▪︎

A/N: There is a trigger warning for this entire chapter regarding substance abuse that one of the characters experiences.

《▪︎▪︎▪︎》

The sun gleamed through the windows on Baker Street, leaving a warm light to reflect on its people.

Although no matter how hard the sun tried, a chilly wind would occasionally blow the warmth out of the city. She had her bow dancing over the strings of her cello. The familiar notes rang through the apartment, echoing and bringing peace.

Ophelia's apartment was a mess. There were papers and files on every surface and mugs on counters. It was a busy week. She found herself extremely drained lately.

It could have been because being a pathologist was sometimes stressful, or the fact that intrusive thoughts were constantly being dangerous and interrupting her movements. Or perhaps it could have been because it had been a month since they last spoke, and it all went downhill.

"Out of all the things," she took his arm and pressed down on the inside of his elbow and shook her head. "You could have spoken about it." she hated the fact that her voice sounded harsh. But she couldn't help it.

It all began on a late evening, a week ago.

***

She dropped her bag to the ground next to the door, walking in quietly and placing her keys on the kitchen island and reached for a glass of water.

She filed out paperwork, sorted out her shelf of books.

Her phone began buzzing, the vibrations muffled from inside the bag. Ophelia sighed. She wondered how many times the calls she picked up were even genuine. She walked slowly, picking up her bag from the floor and answering the phone.

Before she had time to say anything, the shrill voice burst through the speakers. "Oh! Oh, Ophelia, is that you?"

She frowned, leaning into the phone. "Yes.. Mrs Hudson are you alright?"

"Please, you must come over. Sherlock's gone crazy, he has. And John's walked away!" her worried voice cried out as the sound of glass smashing rang through the speaker.

Ophelia reached over and picked up her keys as she spoke, walking towards her shoes. "What's happened, Mrs Hudson? I'm coming down," She heard his voice. His deep, accusing voice raising at Mrs Hudson as she shrieked fearfully.

"You must come," she whispered.

"I will, I am.." Ophelia glanced around her flat before rolling her eyes and opening the front door. "Just try and keep him awake."

"Oh Lord knows he's already done enough to keep him awake. He's like a bloody bat in the belfry!"

The call ended, and Ophelia had her lips in a hard line as she walked down the stairs of her apartment and out into the street. She knew what it was and what was happening. But she didn't want to accept it. She wouldn't.

Her shoulder brushed another's figure. "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't worry about it." John turned around and nodded. He was flexing his fists on either side of his body, glaring at the apartment.