Deerstalker - a Sherlolly story

A Princess for His Palace

It had been almost two weeks since she moved in. He had mixed feelings about suddenly having her in his mind palace, but right now he hated it.

Sherlock’s eyes scanned over the various pictures, maps, newspaper cuttings and notes that were pinned to his wall. The dials in his head were turning, but they just wouldn’t click.

“Dogs bark. The noise disturbs the neighbors. Suddenly, they are poisoned with household pesticides,” he mumbled to himself as tried to connect all the events of the previous weeks. “The O’Malleys’ business is discovered. One of them is poisoned by his sleeping pills. Not much later, Phil drunkenly vandalizes a farmer’s shed. His brakes are cut and he gets into an accident.”

He closed his eyes. Entering his palace. Obviously, someone had decided to start to play cop in this little village. Controlling the inhabitants, by (nearly) killing them. But who? And how could he be so successful? What was the connection between these events?  To know the criminal, he needed a connection…

“You’re slower than I thought, asshole.” Molly, in his mind palace, shocked him out of his concentration. Sherlock could see her perfectly, walking the stairs between ‘Survival techniques’ and ‘Poisons’. The sight of her brought him back to last Friday; Him bursting out of the classroom, leaving Molly in the doorway.  His eyes flew open. It had had nothing to do with her. He would have skipped Chemistry anyway, he just needed to deliver their report. There was also no other reason for her to show up in his head, except for… for…

“Ooh, Sherlock….” He could hear her say, even though he had left the spaces in his mind.

“Out!” He yelled , while he picked up a book from his desk and hurled it at the wall.

‘Smack!’ it went and fell on his bed. Taking deep breaths, he tried to contain himself.  He knew he losing control and he couldn’t stand it.

“Sherlock?” Suddenly a voice came from downstairs. “Is everything alright up there?” His father.

“Yes dad, everything is great!” He reassured his father in his sweetest voice, hoping that he would accept it as the truth. Unfortunately, footsteps were already coming up the stairs.

“Sherlock,” his father began while he peeked his head through the slit of the door. “What is going on up here?” As his father walked into his room, Sherlock noticed he was still wearing the Christmas sweater his mother had given to him.  It was February, for god’s sake.

When Sherlock didn’t answer his father continued, while he sat down on the bed right in front of his son;  “I can tell something’s up. You’ve been acting strange all weekend  and-“

“Did mom tell you to talk to me?” He interrupted his father, while avoiding looking into his concerned brown eyes.

His father shook his head a little and admitted with a faint smile; “She did. So, is she right? Is this about a girl?”

In that moment, Sherlock wished he had been born to a different mother. For once in his live he didn’t go out of his way to conceal all the clues and immediately not only she, but the entire family knew what was going on.

He sighed, still pretending to study the pictures above his father’s head and answered; “I guess mom’s starting to slip up. Like I said, everything is fine. Perhaps, I just ate too much of that cranberry pie of hers.”

“You know, Sherlock. If there is one thing I learned from that brilliant pie-baking mother of yours, it is not to be afraid. “ He launched into a probably rehearsed speech, dismissing Sherlock’s answer. “Boy, was I scared to ask that woman. When she finally agreed, though, I fell for her immediately. And that terrified me, because how was I ever going to spend my days with the most sharp-minded and sharp-tongued individual I’d ever met? I remember telling myself over and over that I shouldn’t love a girl like her. Yet,  I did and look where we are now. So when you get your chance, Sherlock, don’t be afraid to take it.”