He's different: Sherlock fan fiction: Book 1

12: Sherlock's POV

Mary and John's house was a little further from mine, the taxi was driving when I noticed Sasha was passed out.

She's always asleep...

I started to deduce once again, but this time I couldn't come up with anything.

She looked so cute when she slept though.

I smiled to myself placing one of my hands on her thigh. "Hey... wake up" I said softly.

"Whyyyy" she whined waking up 

"Well we're here that's one thing" I said "and I'm sure the others would want to see you awake"  I added with a slight chuckle

"Your the smart one! Make me a twin" 

I laughed getting out of the car, she followed me with her hands in her hoodie pockets, I wrapped an arm around her. 

Mary slammed the door open before I could grab the doorknob.

"HEEEYYY" Mary shouted like a party was going on. Music was playing so... close enough, oh how I hate parties... and people for that matter.

BORING! 

"Hey!" Sasha yelled chasing after Mary to the kitchen.

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

Me and John were on a case not too far from home when John had to leave for some reason as did everyone else.

After a few minutes there was a pain on the back of my head.

However long later I stirred, slightly moving my fingers to wake my numb hands up. I frowned, why wasn't I able to move my arms more than a few centimeters, and why did my shoulders ache so much?

Even though I was still a little bit dizzy from being unconscious my mind was clear enough to figure out what had happened.

I'd been on a case, at a crime scene, John and Lastrade weren't with me at the time I was attacked.

The victim had been murdered, and there had been dried blood on the floor.

I had been examining the corpse when something blunt had hit my head, probably a baseball bat Causing me to black out and fall to the floor.

Sasha had stayed home as she wasn't feeling great, to be honest I'm glad she wasn't around.

The room I was in was dark as night and quite cold. It also smelled like it hadn't been cleaned in ages, the smell of mold hung thick in the air, which also felt damp, although I didn't know if that was just my mind playing with me or if it was reality. I wasn't able to see how big the room was, which annoyed me a lot.

My wrists where fastened above my head, in metal chains, they were already sore, and my shoulders hurt because of the position I was in.

I was almost standing on my tip toes, the floor felt like it was made of stone.

'Strange' I thought, because at the crime scene I'd obviously had shoes on.

Now that I thought about it my coat and scarf were gone too, I didn't like it at all, it made me feel rather vulnerable.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" a familiar voice suddenly said.

I was torn away from my thoughts, a cold shiver ran down my spine when I heard the familiar Irish accent.

"Jim Moriarty" he coldly said, he voice just as hard as stone.