The Bás I Caillteanas Project

Infuriation

Two days later, I woke up in the middle of the night. I looked to my phone and the light was blinding.

02:37

I had a strange feeling that something bad was happening. I snuck out of bed like a secretive teenager. I heard rustling coming from downstairs. The stair creeked when I stepped on it and the strange sound of movement stopped. It had paused for what felt like an hour. It started up again, now knowing that I was there, so I continued walking. I reached out to the door handle and pushed it open. Just then, I realised I wasn't armed, and mentally facepalmed. A shadowy figure stood in the middle of the room, leaning on a cane of some sort. My hand climbed the wall, trying to find the lightswitch. When I became successful, the lights flickered on.

A man of medium height was stood there, wearing an expensive three-piece suit. His face was shaped in a bitter way. The cane I thought he was leaning on, was actually an umbrella.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" I said, edging towards to kitchen for a knife.

"I, my dear, am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having." He answered. His voice was piercing through the silent flat.

"And what's that?"

"An enemy."

"An enemy?"

"In his mind certainly. If you were to ask him he'd probably say his archenemy. He does love to be dramatic."

"Well, thank god you're above all that, eh? With the whole breaking into the apartment and using the umbrella to keep yourself standing. It hasn't rained in days, why have you got an umbrella with you anyway?" I sarcastically hissed, reaching back and grabbing a kitchen knife. I carefully walked back to the door with it.

"A knife, Miss Taylor? We both know you won't use that."

"How do you know my name?"

"I am...how would you say?...connected."

"And what if I shout to Sherlock right now?"

"I'd have to kill you." He snarled.

"So, what do I do then?"

"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

"I could be wrong, but I think that's none of your business."

"It could be."

"It really couldn't."

"If I was to offer you a large sum of money, what would you do?"

"I'd decline your kind offer. What was the catch?"

"No catch, just you supplying me with regular information about Sherlock. Now what would you say?"

"I'd still decline, thanks."

"Oh Miss Taylor, you're very loyal, very quickly. That could be considered as a weakness."

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested."

"So be it."

"Is that all for you? Could you possibly leave now?" I gestured to the door.

"Be careful who you trust, Miss Taylor, it could leave you broken."

I didn't reply to that. He made his way downstairs and out the front door, where a posh black car was patiently waiting for him. When they were finally out of sight, I ran into Sherlock's room. I saw the tea and biscuits were already gone.

"Sherlock!" I shouted, grabbing his shoulders and quickly shaking him out of his sleep.

"What is it?"