deal or no deal | Sherlock Holmes

22

⚠️ TW! Blood!
𝐸𝓋𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒

It's strange how blood works. When it rushes out of your body it's a beautiful crimson color, one that would be in a pretty picture. But when it dries up it's this nasty burnt color. It's like a wilting rose or leaves in the autumn. The way the colors change over time.

Watching the blood run down my body as I rinse it off makes my mind race. How did my mother feel?

Did the blood leave the artery it belonged to in surges? Was it slow and steady like her heartbeat? Did it gush in a more rapid flow? Coming in thick and strong.

I rinse away the dried blood from my hands. I remember how her hands were covered in blood. I imagine she tried to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. But after a few moments more the blood was still escaping her body, her rapidly paling flesh, the pulses start to become weaker and weaker. Maybe she felt the blood weave between her fingers, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than her own skin. Till eventually she felt nothing at all.

A knock at the bathroom door frightens me.

"Y-Yes?!" I cough.

"Sorry to disturb you." Sherlock's voice is muffled through the door. "I had no luck finding your spare key but I've sat you some clothes out on my bed for when you're done."

"Thank you." I call out.

A salty taste spreads through my mouth. Tears. I stand under the water and let it run over my face and down my skin. I'm a mess. I don't know how to handle any of this. I feel lost.

Once when I was a child I was at the market with my mother. Sam never liked to go so I always went with her. I loved this old gentleman, Mr. Dowry, he was a potter. An excellent one at that. I loved watching him carefully make bowls and cups. He always worked so diligently, he inspired me so much. He knew I adored him and he even gave me a few lessons for free. Though I wasn't very good at it, my vase had a handle on the top of it.

Confusing I know.

One day in particular I ran off to see him when Mother was preoccupied. When I was done with my visit I tried to make my way back to her but I got lost. I was absolutely terrified. For the next half hour I hid in an alleyway crying my eyes out until eventually I heard a faint voice calling my name. Her voice was euphonious.

It was her, mother. She found me. She was always there for me. No matter what. That is a mother's job but not everyone did it as good as she did.

Did. Past tense.

I'm lost, but she's gone. What am I to do now?

***

I hold up the nightgown Sherlock had laid out for me. Where on earth did he get this? It's certainly not mine. Truth be told I normally wear my birthday suit to bed if you know what I mean. I slide it over my head and straighten it out. It is very comfy at least.

I leave his room and through the dimly lit living space I can see him in his office studying a board. His case. I carefully step around his papers, making sure I don't disturb him or anything else. I look around him at the board. Ah another scramble. But it's numbers too. Looks like he's already solved it.