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twenty-three: so i can sherlock

warning: sherlock spoilers below cover your eyes if you haven't seen up to season 3

"I agree that he could have been, but I think that Sherlock wasn't telling the truth when he told Anderson how he survived from the fall. I mean, come on, an entire street sealed off? No offense, but most homeless people I know wouldn't be generous enough to even give me the time of day," I stated, contemplating. The guy sitting across from me, whose name was José, gave me a thoughtful nod.

He rubbed his round chin a little before saying, "True, true. I was so excited for the first theory when Sherlock smashes through the window and-" José immediately shut up about our common interest of BBC's Sherlock reboot and sat up straight in his chair. I frowned. I knew what he was going to say, and I absolutely agreed. Sherlock and Molly were just meant to be. So were Sherlock and John. Even Sherlock and Moriarty! Dang it, why wasn't polygamy socially acceptable? Although I doubted Moriarty would get along with anybody except for Sherlock. He'd probably strangle them all or devise clever ways to drive them insane.

sherlock spoilers done you can open them now

The guy who was running everything, Mr. Beer Belly, came stomped over and smacked me across the face. Ow. He even had on a gold ring, so it hurt even more. I shot him a look and was about to say 'I hope you breathe in Chlorine gas and it reacts with the water inside your lungs to form Hychloric Acid and Bleach that will melt your lungs and other important organs slowly and painfully,' but he looked really angry so I settled with a sharp exhale of dissatisfaction.

"You little bitch," he growled. "Your father declined to comment. He declined to comment. What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing, but you know what you should do? Quit drinking alcohol and start doing cardio and stop skipping leg day" was what I wanted to say but I couldn't find any words, so I just shrugged. Mr. Beer Belly was about to hit me again but José stepped up and restrained him, whispering something into his ear.

I didn't care what it was as long as I didn't get hit again. I stared at my fat thighs, wriggling my wrists against the rope to itch a scratch. "We'll get the money one way or another," Mr. Beer Belly sneered, and then took a drink of beer. "or else your daddy will never see his precious girl again."

I gulped. I didn't want to die! I was too young! I'd never even been to a thrift store, damn it! The entire song was about a thrift store being super cheap and swaggy, but I'd never been to one. I couldn't die not having been to a thrift store; that just wasn't fair.

Suddenly, a door squeaked open and Taylor walked in with a black eye, smiling. I wanted to spit at him, only my spit was about as unathletic as I was and wouldn't even reach three feet. However, I really wanted to thank whoever had given him that black eye. I would shine their shoes with my spit if they asked me to, because good job to them!

"What're you so happy about, burro?" Mr. Beer Belly demanded, shaking his beer bottle. Honestly, if he wanted to run a drug dealing ring, he should really learn about being stealthy and non-alcoholic, like the bald guy from that show Breaking Bad. Was he sneaky? I think he was. Or maybe it was his friend that was. I only watched half of the first episode. "Why did you leave?" Mr. Beer Belly added.

Taylor shrugged and looked Mr. Beer Belly straight in the eye, ignoring my glare. Actually, I probably looked constipated because my eyes were just squinted really hard, so maybe he was avoiding eye contact to make things less awkward for the two of us. Not that that would work, I still wanted to strangle him with a rattlesnake.

Mr. Beer Belly kicked and shouted some more (he reminded me a lot of my father, just more... drunk) before finally leaving José, Taylor, and I alone in the warehouse. He said he needed to go retrieve the next shipment of "goods". I had a lurking suspicion it wasn't stuffed teddy bears.

"I hope you fall into a well and break your neck and become paralyzed from the neck down and then slowly starve to death because there's still water in the well that always gets up your nose and all you can do is look up and starve to death," I stated, and then José looked at me strangely.

"Do you two know each other?" He asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing up.

"I hate him," I replied, at the same time Taylor said "Unfortunately."

We both shot a glare at each other.

José gave us an uncomortable look before saying, "Uh, I think I'm going to go to Los Soportars for a drink or something... bye!"

He walked out, leaving Taylor and I alone; well, as alone as we could be in a giant warehouse with drug gang-banger gun-armed guards patrolling the perimeter of the warehouse. "Listen, I called for help, your dad's going to help get you out of here," he whispered.

"I'm not listening to you," I scoffed. "Besides, my father wouldn't want to waste his money."

Taylor sighed. "Look, I know you and your dad aren't on the best terms, but he really does just want the best for you but you two don't see eye-to-eye-"

"I hope your eyes pops out of its socket and rolls around so you can see yourself with only one eye and the other eyesocket leaking blood," I intoned, and then rolled my eyes and tried to block out Taylor and thoughts of my father.

"Anyway, I think your dad called the police and they're planning on storming here soon, so I need to get out before-"

"Police! Freeze! Release the hostage and no one gets hurt!"