[Sherlolly fanfiction] Silhouettes

Chapter 22-- Significance

Around one minute later, Sherlock approaches me casually with his hands in his pockets. I glare at him, "You're in so much trouble."
He pauses, glancing down at the file in my hands. He glances back up at me. "'Benjamin Jonah Joules, serial killer. Froze his victims', correct?"
I look at the file. "Yep." I know that he's trying to change the subject.
He walks forwards, "Did you know he used his basement as a fridge to preserve their body-parts?"
"Yep, says here."
"Over eighty-three decapitated heads were found in the freezer."
"Also says here."
"Do you know what gave it away?"
I look at him. "What?"
"The fridge magnets on his cadaver freezer spelt 'corpse collection'. He would've gotten away with it if he hadn't have done that."
"Really?"
He nods. "Yep. The police went around because apparently he'd been sighted publicly urinating and when he'd invited them in for tea, one of the officers wandered off and saw a door with 'corpse collection' on the front."
I laugh. "That's amazing!" I forget all about my annoyance as he continues to tell me about this bizarre case.
He finishes his explanation and dithers, watching me. "You'll probably want to know why I'm here. I'm searching for information on an old, unsolved case from a couple of years back; it's just popped-up again. You're welcome to look at it with me?" He's a little sheepish as he's aware of how inconvenient all of this is for me, but I can see the surprise on his face as I smile in agreement.
**
(2:57AM)
(SHERLOCK'S POV)

Molly only lasted one hour before she fell asleep. I wasn't expecting her to last all night, but I was impressed she got this far.
She's curled up by a bookshelf with her head leant on a pile of murder files, her jacket acting as a blanket and a file in her arms --fittingly-- cataloging a sleep-serial killer.

As it's so early and so dark and none of the radiators have been turned on yet, a death-like chill circulates around the cavern of a room like a serpent; finding any scrap of warmth and engulfing it whole.

But despite the cold, I continue my search, every now and then checking if she's still asleep.
My palms are slick with a dark, brown dust that has settled upon the surfaces of the folders and files; the dirt has stained my finger tips, irritating my skin.

I was certain that the case I was looking for would be in this section of the archives, unless it's been moved again. But I doubt they've done that; nobody has the time or effort to search through all these files just to find one case. Well, apart form Molly and I.

As I glance at her, she stirs softly and brings her hands into her chest, as an attempt to warm them. I tuck my current file in my teeth and kneel in front of her, cupping her hands in mine and trying to warm them a little. Admittedly, I'm not much warmer than she is, but I am a little. And so, I take off my jacket and lay it over her before taking the folder back from my teeth and retching at the taste of the sickly, brown dust on my tongue. After a moment, I open the file with teeth indents on the front, expecting nothing more than another fluke, but find myself with a sense of victory as I read the correct file with the correct photographs too.
I smile, despite the images, and tuck it under my arm. The dust, once again, staining my shirt, but I couldn't care less. I move Molly, so she's leant against the bookshelf rather than the murders, and tidy away the folders. Once I'm done, I nudge her, trying to wake her as softly as I can.
She remains asleep.
After another failed attempt, I shrug and sit down next to her, starting to read through the file I'd been searching for for over three hours.

I store quotations and photographs in my mind-palace as I read, but eventually, the transition between reality and my mind becomes slower and slower until it's stops all together and I'm lost to that place where lack of reality and attempted realistic thought are combined.
The abyss where my untamed thoughts lurk in a river of stars; like a long, thin constellation that shifts with its own smooth current.
This is the one space of water I am not afraid of drowning in. I've never been afraid of this.
This speculation of warm, comforting insanity.
And to think I didn't believe it as a necessary, natural requirement; sleep.
**
(7:00AM)