Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Lost Locket

Nightmares, Experiment, and Molly

Sherlock immediately fell asleep when he hit the pillow. A dream unfolded and he was standing in a foggy field. He spotted a murky shadow in the distance and yelled to it. His voice didn’t work right. Then a loud ringing sound rumbled in the distance and a cold wind blasted Sherlock off his feet. He was flying the wind propelling him. Wait, but that can’t be right it was completely impossible for a human to fly..the physics...gravity...Newton’s laws. He then began to drift downwards through the clouds until he began to to fall faster. Sherlock flailed his arms wildly trying to slow down but he only seemed accelerate. There was a crash as he hit the ground. Surprisingly, he wasn’t dead. Wait, how can that be right. He was falling at a speed that should have killed because of his weight and the wind speed at 75 mi/hr… A pain suddenly shot up his arm. He screamed in pain and gripped his left side. Than he was coming out of his dream and the pain in his arm was real. His arm pulsed in pounding waves of searing pain. He moaned and whimpered as he opened his eyes to reveal the darkness of the room. He hastily looked around. His bed was ripped of his comforter and sheets. He must have been thrashing around to kick them off. OH, how Sherlock hated nightmares. It seemed by the impending darkness cast from the window it was 4:00 AM. There was sweat on his back that made his shirt cling to him. He looked down to see something soaked that rested on the sheet. Are you serious? he thought. Had he really just soaked his sheets in sweat? He hadn’t done that since he was 3 when Mycroft had scared him. He groaned and turned a reddish pink in embarrassment. If Sally, Anderson, or Lestrade saw this they would never let him forget. Especially Donovan..Anger ripped through as something flew through his head. He imagined himself standing with his dampened pants and Sally roaring with laughter and cackling “OOOooh looks like the freak scared of his wittle dreams.”

Sherlock awoke at 6:00 and quickly changed into freshly laundered clothes that Mrs. Hudson had nicely done for him. He pulled off the sheets and handed them as discreetly possible to Mrs. Hudson. He turned around but then was caught by her.

“What’s all this?” she pointed at the puddle. He froze.

“ eh… just an experiment,” he quickly turned to the door as Mrs. Hudson shook her head in disapproval. Poor Sherlock, still has trouble even today…”Sherlock had been in fact babysat by her but was still self-conscious. He had taken him a long while to sleep peacefully and would have numerous nightmares . He definitely did not want a repeat of that. He set off to the hospital.

Sherlock grimaced at the pain that erupted again from his left arm. It was pulsing with achiness  and it was now in a purple cast that Sherlock wasn’t too keen on. According to John his arm was too weak and thin “like a stick”. He arm was NOT skinny just excessively lean. Anyways he had to think. His head swam with thoughts. He picked up the tiny particle that he picked up from in the shoe. If he could just pinpoint the details and specimen he might find the near location of the thief who stole the locket. He picked up the small disk that held the particle  and put it under the microscope and then set off to matching the substances that flashed across the screen. His brow furrowed in concentration….graphite...no...eczema cream...no...sweat...no...hair...no...thyme...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...noo...NOOOO!!

Sherlock threw the disk in frustration across the lab and it shattered. The shards of glass nicked some of skin and he winced. AUGH!!! Just then the computer whirred and it brought up a wet musty texture on to its screen.

Yes! of course it had to be…Oh this was just brilliant!

The door of the lab flew open and a hasty girl with brown messy hair pulled loosely into a side pony tail flew in carrying books that were stacked so high they covered her face. She clambered in and slammed the books onto the table. He heard a muffled apology. Sherlock pressed his together clearly not hiding the fact of irritation a lump started to form in the bottom of his throat. He had just been sharing a very relieving and wonderful realization with himself and now people had to intrude on his personal space.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked timidly clearly having a hard time meeting Sherlock’s eyes. Insecurity, thought Sherlock. Boring…

“Yes, some peace and quiet will do fine, thank you,” he replied bluntly not taking his eyes off the screen. He saw out of the corner of his eyes, Molly’s face go pink and a hard and bitter expression replacing the weak pathetic attempt of a smile easily. She had really let herself go Had he done something wrong? He had always been bad with feelings… Before he could turn to her she ran off in a flurry and if he hadn’t mistaken it, he had heard a sob before the door slammed admantantly. He blinked in confusion but then it left him as quickly as it had come and he was back to working on the shoe sediment in a matter of minutes. He had in fact deleted in his mind what had just happened.