The real fall

Chapter Seventeen

"I'll get the food. I'll get some bread." He mumbles, rolling off of me but making no effort to get up. "Sherlock?" I say, puzzled.
"I'm to tired. The room is spinny. Rachel why are you spinny?" He yawns. I pull him up and he falls forward, causing me to almost tumble over myself. I slowly walk him to the bedroom and he lies down on the bed. He groans and his eyes flutter close.

I walk into the kitchen and gasp. There are test tubes EVERYWHERE. Most are fine but a few have shattered on the floor. I sigh and pull on some rubber gloves before gingerly picking up the pieces of glass and throwing them in the bin. I then wipe the floors and shake my head. I was away for one night and he gets all of this! I decide to not dispose of it because it got him so mad last time, but instead clear out a cupboard to store it in and half the amount. I fit bungs on the tubes and place them in racks in the cupboard. I then wipe down all of the surfaces and make myself a sandwich before having a shower and getting into bed. "Rachel is that you?" Sherlock whispers.
"It's me." I whisper back. He smiles sleepily and he moves closer to me, encircling my waist with his arms.

When I wake up the bed is empty. I frown and leave the room, my eyes widening in shock at what I find. An obviously high Sherlock is jumping about the room, shooting the wall and talking to himself. I look around and my eyebrows raise. On every wall and piece of string pinned across the room are pictures of a man. I look closer at one and recognise the face. Culverton Smith. In other words the super rich dude that you see on tv all the time - game shows, adverts, all of that stuff.
"Sherlock what the -"
"ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS, ONCE MORE, OR CLOSE THE WALL UP WITH OUR ENGLISH DEAD! SET THE TEETH AND STRETCH THE NOSTRIL WIDE, HOLD HARD THE BREATH AND BUILD UP EVERY SPIRT TO HIS FULL HEIGHT. ON, ON  YOU NOBLEST ENGLISH, WHOSE BLOOD IS FET FROM FATHERS FROM WAR - PROOF! AND YOU, YEOMAN, WHOSE LIMBS WERE MADE IN ENGLAND, SHOW US HERE THE MEDDLE OF YOUR PASTURE!" He yells, running about the room and gesturing with a gun in his hand.

Mrs. Hudson peeks around the door and he smiles at her. "Oh, hello. Can I have a cup of TEA?" He asks. She hurries to the kettle and then Sherlock spots me. "Ah Rachel! How lovely you areeeeeee!" He sings, pulling me to him and kissing my head. I tense slightly at the contact but this goes unnoticed by him. "A cup of tea! Oh, for goodness' sake! What's the matter with you? Are you having an earthquake?" he snaps at Mrs. Hudson, mimicking her shaky actions as she holds the cup of tea on a saucer. "Sherlock don't be so -" I begin, before being interrupted. "DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK? SHUT UP WOMAN!" He yells, causing me to flinch and sit down in an armchair.

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson drops the teacup. Sherlock places the gun on the side and grabs it seconds before it hits the floor, spilling only a small bit of tea. Mrs. Hudson picks up the gun and points it at him. "Right then mister, now I need your handcuffs." She snaps. "I happen to know there's a pair in the salad drawer." I call through. Sherlock Holmes ignores me and gawps at Mrs. Hudson. "Oh get over yourself, you're not my first smack head Sherlock Holmes." She says. We come up with a plan and bribe the cafè men to help us get Sherlock in the boot of Mrs. Hudson's really nice car. He yells. Loud. Really loud. They stuff him in the trunk, I jump in the front with Mrs. Hudson and we drive to John's therapist's house.