The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Christine Maryland *DISCONTINUED*

Anger Issues?

Sherlock and I reached back to the crime scene, where I saw them take the body into a van.

Luckily, Sherlock already examined the body. I saw him do it before I went into my little...you know.

"What have you found?" I asked.

"Strangled," he said, "Man used gloves, though. The smell of latex was around his neck area."

"What about the....blood..." I spit out. 

The image came back into my head and I shivered. It disgusted me so much. 

I know people can be so cruel, but to be that cruel to them?

It's one of those things that, even though I can see why people do it, I just...I'll never understand it. I can never kill an innocent person. 

There's only one person in this world that I would want to see dead. 

However, I want to be the one to kill him. I want him dropped dead by me, with a gun in my hand, watching him bleed to death.

Just like he did to my mother.

My blood boiled with hate, my face flushing...

A hand was put on my shoulder, which snapped me out of my heated trance.

I jumped and looked at whoever woke me up.

Obviously, it was Sherlock.

"Sorry," I said.

"No need to apologize," he said, "Apologies in this case are not necessary, Ms. Maryland. Your eyes told me you were thinking about one thing and one thing only...revenge. You're an overthinker, Ms. Maryland, and it's not something you should be doing when it comes to a case. Personal life and detective life do not mix."

"I know," I snapped, finding myself not walking anymore and trying to meet Sherlock's eye level. "But it's kind of hard when an influence in your life has been murdered, right in front of me I may add, in a subway with no service to call for help, and she is bleeding to death right in front of you so you can't run and get help in time. What's even worse is the man who has done it is sick and twisted enough to, before running off, look at you, smile and laugh at you, and then run off. Do you even care?!"

Sherlock didn't respond

He just looked at me, studying me again.

"Stop studying me like that!" I yelled, "You think this is all some stupid game, do you?! Fine! I will carry on this case myself! I don't need your help, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I am you, after all, right!?"

I stomped off, not willing to look at Sherlock anymore.

I didn't need his help, nor did I want him.

His lack of understanding made me lose all respect and interest in him. 

He's a cold-hearted man.

Why did I even bother?

However, Sherlock caught up to me.

Can this guy leave me alone?!

I was about to tell him to piss off, to tell him to leave me alone.

However, he said three words to me that made me freeze into my tracks.

"Intermittent explosive disorder."

My anger started to fade and it was replaced with shame.

He figured it out.

Yes, it's true.