SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

Mullen Talks to Watson

John Watson’s eyes opened and he found himself sitting on a surprisingly comfy surface. After being tied, blind-folded, and thrown into a jet, John expected to wake up in a dank, dark cellar with spiders. Looking down, he saw that he wasn’t wearing his casual clothes, but instead a fluffy, flannel robe. John raised an eyebrow and the uncomfortable thought of some stranger dressing him disturbed him more than ever. Sighing, John slid off the bed and scuffled over to a note on his door. It read—

“Dr. Watson, there’s a suit in the wardrobe. Please dress yourself and meet me in the center of this unit. Follow the light.

-        Seth Mullen”

John went to the oak wardrobe accordingly and swung open the large, heavy doors. A grayish suit with a red tie hung on a hanger. Shaking his head at the unnecessary opulence, John took it off the hanger and slipped it on. After he had buttoned it and straightened up the lines, he stroked the front and said quietly to himself, “Very nice suit. Very nice.”  He then took a comb to his hair, tied on his shoes, and left the room. John made his way down the dim-lit halls in his usual, unhurried manner.  

When he arrived to “the center”, he spotted a figure sitting in a chair staring at active monitor screens. John swiveled his mouth to one side of his face and placed his hands in his pockets. In a sarcastic voice, he said through a smile, “Monitoring the world, are we?”

“Just about,” Mullen replied, spinning his chair about and popping up to his feet. He sauntered over to John—the mask still hiding his face. “Have a seat in that chair, John. I’d like to have a chat. By the way, did you like your room?”

John walked up to the directed chair and sat down. He folded his hands and stared hard at the masked man. If Sherlock was with him, he could tell him why Mullen was wearing the mask. Thinking of Sherlock, John began wondering if Sherlock was on the prowl and was going to jump out from his hiding spot any moment and save him. Coming back from his contemplation, John answered questioningly, “Did? You said did I enjoy my room. Meaning that I won’t see it again?”

Mullen chuckled and went right up to John. Looking down at him, he said in an animus tone, “In the war, John, I admired you. Really admired you. Like you admire Sherlock Holmes.”

“Admired me?” Such a risible thought surprised John. “Are you daft or something? What was there to possibly admire me about?”

“Oh, John, there are lots. You are noble, honest, a hell of a soldier—,”

“All right, all right, no need to go on like that. So, you admired me. What makes you practically hate me now?”

Mullen’s eyes widened and leaned in so close their noses met. “I envy you now. I hate how you’re fine and I’m not.”

“Oh, God. Are you having some childish tiff with me?”

Mullen inhaled angrily and retorted with a strong, “No! I admired you—practically wanted to be you. And then when you promised to cover up for my mistake, I—that’s when I completely obsessed to be just like you.”

“What changed? Because now you leave notes saying I destroyed your life.”

“You remember that day on the field?” Mullen’s voice trailed to the past.  “When I was lying practically dead and you came over, I saw that look in your eyes. That look that betrayed everything I had ever thought about you. You wanted to leave me for dead.”

John dropped his head and shook it regrettably. “I’m sorry, Seth—,”

“And now you found a friend in this, Sherlock Holmes! Sherlock is just as ordinary as you and me. You see, all one needs to do is take an ordinary, intelligent man and tell him to investigate the world. There’s nothing special about him!”