The Sherlock and Watson Association

Chapter 5

I was lying down, two scratchy sheets between me. I inhaled. Hospital, I thought.

Then the memories came back: the rope, the key, the plunge. It was all like a movie playing on my eyelids.

“This is a dream,” I whispered to myself. “You are going to wake-up soon on your blue bedspread, staring at your Sherlock poster.”

“Oh, Honey,” said a familiar voice. “This is not a dream.” It was Mrs. Edmark.

My eyes shot open. I was in a blue little room, in a small cot. It looked like a small hospital room I stayed in when I got my tonsils removed. It smelled like Lysol and cotton balls and there were too many machines to count. I looked down. I was in a blue robe that was the same shade as the bed sheets, with at least five tubes hooked onto various places on my body. The machines around me beeped. I turned my head to the chair beside me, containing a small woman, in a floral dress.

“How was the ride?” Mrs. Edmark asked, pushing me pack so I was lying down again. A million questions swarmed around my head.

“You have a lot of questions,” she said, leaning back. I nodded. My head throbbed and questions buzzed, but I didn’t know what to say. I was frozen, my mouth refusing to move and my brain screamed, “ASK SOME QUESTIONS YOU IDIOT.”

“Those will be answered at orientation, honey, right now you sleep,” she said, replacing the fallen blanket over my shoulder. She walked slowly toward the door, and turned to me with a sly smile on her face, and said

“And welcome to the Sherlock and Watson Association."

"Oh Cathy," I whispered, "I don't think you're in New York anymore."