You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 35

Some hours later, dawn is breaking. Sherlock is still in the same place in the lab, sitting on a stool with his feet up on the bench. He is rapidly rolling the rubber ball from side to side across the bench, his fingers flickering rapidly over the top of the ball. I am sitting on a stool at a nearby bench and I have my head down on my folded arms, asleep. My phone rings. Lifting my head tiredly, I groan and answer the phone.

"Hello," I mumble. I listen for a moment. "Excuse me, what?" I get to my feet. "What happened? Is she okay? Shit, yeah I'm coming."

"What is it?" Sherlock asks.

"Paramedics. Mrs. Hudson's been shot," I state.

"What? How?" Sherlock questions, looking genuinely concerned.

"Well, probably one of the killers we managed to attract ... Shit. Shit. She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go," I rush him but he doesn't move.

"You go. I'm busy," he says, switching to look uninterested. I turn back towards him, my face appalled.

"Busy?" I snap, "Doing what, exactly?" I shout.

"Thinking. I need to think."

"You need to ...? For fucks sake, Sherlock. I need to think too, but that doesn't mean I can just shake it off! Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her," I yell out.

"She's my landlady," he shrugs.

"She's dying you damn baboon!" I flail a hand in front of myself in utter disbelief at Sherlock's attitude. "You damn machine. You damn coward! You can't stand to care for someone else! You- you're stupid, Sherlock! God, how did I ever love you?!" I shout, not catching myself in the process. Anger rushes through me. He stands there, looking blankly at me. I look down, shaking my head. "You stay here if you want, alone."

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me," Sherlock states.

"No. Friends protect people... I protect you," I mumble before walking out. I storm out of the room, leaving Sherlock behind. I struggle to hold back my tears.

Why did I love him?

***

2211B.

A taxi pulls up outside and I jump out and hurry towards the door, scrabbling for my keys. Hurrying inside, I see the tattooed bald workman standing at the top of his stepladder just in front of the stairs, drilling a hole into the wall. Mrs. Hudson is standing nearby watching him. I run towards her, she jolts in startlement, having not heard me approach over the sound of the drill.

"Oh, God, Rachelle! You made me jump!"

"But..." I start in shock.

"Is everything okay now with the police? Has, um, Sherlock sorted it all out?" Hudson questions. I stare for a moment longer and then it suddenly sinks in.

"Shit," I start. I turn around and runs outside, looking up and down the street frantically. Luckily I immediately sees what I need. "Taxi!" A cab begins to pull over on the other side of the road. I chase across the road towards it, "Taxi!" A man is standing at the side of the road having also just hailed the cab. As he leans into the front window to tell the driver his destination, I run around the cab and pull open the rear door, talking even as I scramble inside.

"Police!" I yell.

"Oh, thanks, mate – thanks a lot," the man grumbles before walking away.