Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 15

I decided to switch things up and write in Sherlock's point of view for the first part of this chapter and I'm quite proud of myself. Let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

Sherlock's P.O.V.

I stood at my window and watched as Sarah climbed into the back seat of Mycroft's car. Sarah's eyes trained on me whilst they made their way down the street. I could tell she was upset with me but I didn't know what else to do in this situation. I was scared. Me of all people! Suddenly, my phone buzzed in the pocket of my dressing gown so I pulled it out to examine the text. It was from Sarah:

I hope you're happy.

What the hell have I done? For once in my life I was actually being an idiot. Before I had more time to think, John returned from bidding Sarah farewell with a frown on his tired face.

"Why were you being so rude to her?" he asked me. I wish I didn't have to explain anything to him. Life would be so much less tedious. Instead of answering his question I asked

"Did you find any clients on your way up?" I needed to distract myself and this was the best way to do it. He ignored me and continued

"You two were so close, I'd even go as far as to say that you were hitting it off. What happened?"

"Anyone at all?" I retaliated, trying desperately to change the subject. Eventually John stopped ignoring me, dropped his queries and showed in a new client: someone droning on about their wife spending too much time at the office. "Boring." "Yes." "Leave." "Boring." I dismissed client after client. Nothing. I couldn't stop thinking about Sarah and there were no interesting cases whatsoever.

"Sherlock," John said to me between idiots, I mean, clients, "Can you please try and be nice? You don't have to be so moody about this, you know. If you have a problem with Sarah then why not just talk to her instead of shipping her off to Mycroft? Why all this?" he gestured to nothing in particular.

"Because I can't, ok? Leave it." I snapped. I was in no mood for John to be playing therapist.

"Alright, alright. Sorry."

"Thank you. Now, let the next one in.". Three young boys, about eighteen, came dawdling into the flat. Bags under their eyes- probably didn't get enough sleep the previous night, up all night on the computer; not a gaming console. I could tell that by the way one of them nearly tripped over thin air on his way to stand behind the client chair that they didn't have the hand eye co-ordination for video games. When they did get sleep, however, they slept well as I could tell by their dishevelled hair. This led me on to believe that they were not accustomed to social situations and didn't move from their bedrooms unless it was to get food, that and the lack of deodorant. They weren't the type to play video games but they were the type to read judging by the tiny, almost un-noticeable, indents on their thumbs and forefingers. Thin and few so it's not novels, comic books then. Could be children's books but, as I said before, they're eighteen. Far too old for that sort of thing. Lack of sleep, up all night on a computer, don't leave their bedrooms, read comic books. Geeks. They interested me. That is, they did until they opened their mouths.

"We have this website." the head nerd muttered, "It explains the true meaning of comic books, 'cause people miss a lot of the themes.". I groaned and began to walk away, disinterested until they said something that made me stop, "But then all the comic books started coming true."

"Oh. Interesting." Christ, I must be truly desperate to be taking this case.

Sarah's P.O.V.

The car pulled up at what can only be described as Mycroft's mansion. It was huge, built in the 19th century judging by the corrosion of the limestone that it was made of. If Sherlock were here I'm sure he'd say something about how Mycroft's house matched his ego. No. I needed to stop thinking about him. He was the one who got me into this situation and I sure as hell wasn't thankful for him pushing me away. Mycroft's chauffer opened my door and let me out whilst one of his butlers collected my bags from the boot of the car. Everyone was dressed in suits and bowties; I felt so out of place.

Once inside I took a moment to observe the décor. Everything was mahogany. From the tables, to the staircase with it's wide strip of red carpet running perfectly down the centre, to the hallway floor and the doors with their shiny golden handles. The only things that weren't mahogany were the wallpaper, which was red like the carpet on the stairs and in the living room, the fake red and cream flowers and, like I said before, the golden door handles. Given Mycroft's taste and job, I wouldn't be surprised if they were real gold.

"What do you think?" Mycroft asked, coming to a halt beside me with his hands clenched together behind his back.

"It's..." nice. Grand. Too big for just one person. Not Baker Street. Not near Sherlock... "Good.". I had no idea what, exactly, I meant by good but it was the best I could do with my head in the mess that it was in right now.

"I'm glad you like it." the Holmes brother said in a monotone voice before turning to one of his staff and saying "Would you please show Miss Cook to her room.". With a curt nod, the butler began to ascend the stair case with my bags so I took that as a sign to follow.

My room was the third door down a seemingly- never ending corridor. Like most things in the house, the door was massive and made of mahogany with a rounded golden door knob. I twisted the handle easily and it glided open with surprising grace considering the size of it. Inside was decorated almost identical to the hallway- all mahogany and red wallpaper with a vase of flowers on both of the bedside tables- aside from the massive four-post king-sized bed against the wall directly to my left. It was covered in a quilt that matched the walls perfectly. I stepped inside and did what any normal human would do: jump on the bed. I leapt onto the mattress and the covers swallowed me instantly. Heavenly was the only word for this bed. Upon hearing the door shut I lifted my head to find that my escort had dropped my bags by the side of another mahogany door that was slightly smaller than the others. Immediately, I rolled off of the marshmallow mattress and walked over to investigate. I had given up deducing things for the time being. It reminded me too much of Sherlock and thinking about him hurt like hell. Hand on the handle, I pushed the door open to reveal a massive walk-in wardrobe already equip with an array of pencil skirts, white blouses of different types and black blazers along with both patent and matt black heels. It made my posh clothes look like shit. Nevertheless, I dragged my suitcases in and unpacked my clothes, hanging them on hangers and trying my best to make my jeans and t-shirts fit in but it just wasn't going to happen so I hid my clothes behind all of the outfits that Mycroft had kindly provided me with. This was going to take some getting used to.