The Tables Are Turned (Sherlock x OC)

Chapter 4

I blinked once, and a blurry outline came into my vision. I blinked again, and I saw that my face was pressed into something soft and warm. I inhaled Sherlock's familiar scent and m realized that I was snuggling into Sherlock's chest. I shifted to look up at him, and realized that he had his arms wrapped around me.

"Redbeard," he muttered softly.

"Sherlock," I said, shaking him. "Sherlock..."

He woke up and saw us wrapped around each other, and I saw his face turn bright red, a rarity. He removed his arms from my waist, and I let go of his shirt, both of us blushing madly.

"I- I'm sorry about that," Sherlock stammered. "We can stop sharing the bed if you want to."

"I- It's fine," I said shyly. "We can keep sharing the bed."

We both got out of the bed and I retreated to my room, where I got dressed. We hopped onto the bus where we chatted together, although I don't think either of us truly forgot about this morning.

When we got to school Sherlock pulled me away from the goggling eyes once again, and this time we went to the library, where we talked in peace until it was time to go to homeroom.

I sulked through the beginning of Homeroom, then I decided I couldn't stand another minute of Richard's flirting, so I raised my hand.

"Yes?" Miss Cline said.

"May I go to the loo?" I asked.

"I suppose," she said reluctantly.

I got out of my seat and walked quickly out of the classroom, going down the hallway to the loo. I had walked just 50 meters from the classroom door a passed an adjacent hallway. The lights in that hallway flickered off for a second, and when they blinked back on again, I screamed bloody murder.

"Ahhhhh!!!!!"

I could hear doors opening up and down the hallway, and people streamed out of classrooms. I stumbled backwards and fell down, clasping my hands over my mouth, still staring in horror. Tears started streaming down my cheeks, and I choked back a sob. I heard many other girls scream, and the crowd pressed forwards.

I tore my eyes away from the gruesome sight and looked at the crowd through my tear filled eyes. Sherlock was pressing his way through the crowd, eyes locked firmly on the horror.

He finally got through, and dashed to the sight. He kneeled down next to it, and I knew he was deducing. A girl lay on the ground with a slit throat still oozing blood and dozens of slash marks on her arms and legs. Her blonde hair was so soaked in blood I nearly mistook her for a strawberry-blonde. She lay in a puddle of blood that was so large it could be mistaken for a lake. The blood was splashed all over the hallway, coating the walls and soaking into the carpet.

Sherlock stood up quickly.

"She's still alive," he said. When no one moved he spoke again. "She's still alive! Someone call an ambulance!"

There was a flurry of motion as kids pulled out their phones. They put their phones up to their ears or typed quickly, texting family members and friends. I saw Ms Cline pull out her phone and dial the police.

I felt someone pull me to my feet, and as I melted into his embrace, I smelt Sherlock's familiar scent of peppermint and marshmallows.

He walked me numbly away from the crowd and out of the school, where he sat me on a bench. I buried my face into his chest and sobbed quietly. He pulled me close and stroked my hair gently, his fingers lingering on the scar behind my ear.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice said.

I looked up, and through my tears I saw the police chief standing over me and Sherlock. I blinked at him, and he seemed to take that as recognition.