The real fall

Chapter Seven

At my words Sherlock smiles gleefully and my mother gasps. "What?" I ask.
"Rachel I don't want you living with this man! He doesn't seem... good for you." My mother whispers. My eyes harden and I turn to her. "You have no idea what he's gone through and what he's going through now. He's a human being who needs help and I'm going to give that to him! If you don't agree then fine. But I've made my decision." I hiss, before taking Sherlock's hand and pulling him upstairs.

I enter my room and close the door behind me before sitting him down on my bed. "You can just sit there while I pack." I say, before pulling my suitcase put from under ny bed and beginning to collect clothes. "You're 24 years old and live with your parents, although not for long as you are now moving in with me. You don't get on well with your mother, you prefer your father which is obvious to the ratio of pictures you have of them around your room. You used to have a cat, as there are slight claw marks in your douvet although no cat hairs, showing that no cat has been in your room for a while. You have a sister who has moved to South Africa to do charity work and you get post cards every two weeks or so from her. You also enjoy helping others because of all the medals and pins scattered around your floor linking to charity. So your sister went abroad but why didn't you? You're in a stable job and I'm sure you have a savings account because in the back of this book here you have a four digit code. So why didn't you join your sister? Maybe you dislike extreme heat or -" he starts to deduct before I interrupt him. "Or maybe I just didn't feel like going." I say. The look of concentration on his face drops and he nods. "Well yes that's always a possibility..." he mumbles, slightly annoyed that I had stopped him.

After a while or so he drops to his knees and looks under my bed, as if looking for something. "You seem better now." I point out. He doesn't reply and instead drags out a cardboard box. My eyes widen and I gulp before lunging towards the box. Sherlock looks at me and frowns. "Rachel what is in this box that is making you so protective over it?" He asks.