Patchwork - Sherlock Holmes (BBC)

Chapter 14

Thunk.

"Owwww," a voice moaned loudly by Sofia's ear. She jerked awake, before clapping her hand over eyes with a gasp of pain.

"Oh my god," she groaned as her head pounded. "What the hell happened?"

"I fell," a disgruntled voice said, and Sofia felt her stomach tighten as she heard the bassy rumble of Sherlock's morning voice.

"Are you ok?" She laughed, wincing at the sound as she looked down at the detective who was staring at the floor like it had tried to kill him.

"My head hurts," Sherlock said.

"Yeah," Sofia said, rubbing her eyes, "somehow I don't think that's because of the floor."

"Hmmm," Sherlock said. "I'm hungry too." Sofia sighed.

"I'm guessing you're incapable of making your own breakfast?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Sherlock looked at her as if she had suggested he jumped out of the window.

"Right then," Sofia said, pushing herself off the sofa with a groan and padding over to the kitchen.

"Let's see what's for breakfast."

She opened the first cupboard and stared dejectedly at the empty shelves.

"No luck there," she murmured, throwing open the next set of doors. "Or there," she said, glaring at the wooden back of the cupboard. "How long has it been since you last - oh shit!" She shouted, slamming the door shut on the bag of fingernails sitting in the cupboard she had just discovered.

"Not so loud," Sherlock groaned, burying his head in his arms.

"There's a - there's a -" Sofia gaped. Sherlock waved his hand nonchalantly.

"It was an experiment - don't worry, I only extracted them from dead people."

"An experiment," Sofia said, feeling faintly sick. "Right."

She summoned up the courage to look in the final cupboard and sighed, leaning her head against the empty shelves.

"Ok, there is officially no food in this flat," she said. "I'm going shopping."

Too tired to change out of her clothes from last night, Sofia went and grabbed her coat off the hook, shoving her hands into her pockets as she searched for her keys.

"Ow," she hissed as there was a sharp pain in her hand.

"What have you done now?" Sherlock asked exasperatedly as Sofia pulled her hand out of her pocket and sucked the thin scratch on her hand.

"I don't know, there's something sharp in my pocket," she frowned, reaching with much more caution into her pocket and pulling out a long thin object she didn't recognise.

"Oh my god," she said.

"What is it?" Sherlock said, not looking up.

"It's a syringe - from the drug den. I picked it up when we were attacked."

"What?" Sherlock said, on his feet and beside her in an instant. "Why didn't you give it to me before?"

"I forgot," she said.

"You forgot," Sherlock repeated, looking at her as if she was stupid.

"Well to be fair I did have other things on my mind," Sofia said, referring to when she was injected.

All of a sudden the syringe in her hand was gone, snatched away by Sherlock who seemed to have forgotten his hangover as he strode over to the door.