A Rose By Any Other Name | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 6

He looked down at the coffee table in front of him, his sleeve rolled up above his elbow. The needle glistened in the dim light that he had in his living room. The door was closed and locked, lest he allow an interruption by Mrs. Hudson. He loved the woman as if she was his mother, but at times she was too much to handle, even for Sherlock.

He kept telling himself he needed it. He told himself he needed the high to help him think clearer with this case. Sherlock knew, though, that once he came down, he'd want more.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes. Thinking hard about his next decision, he thought about what had happened that day with Aryn. It was the first time in years he had come that close with her. The way his heart raced and his protective instinct about her had caused some emotions he hadn't quite remembered feeling in some time. It scared him to think that there was one more person in his life that he felt that way for. Being protective of people like Aryn and John made him worry for their safety.

A buzz of his phone had him sitting up in a heartbeat.

$ records?

-AKC

He rolled his eyes. Of course he meant the financial records.

Yes...

-SH

Another buzz came in not twenty seconds later.

Meet me at Scotland Yard.

-AKC

He looked back down at the needle again.

Busy.

-SH

He set down his phone and traded it for the needle. He could see the liquid within, waiting for it to be coursing through his veins, delivering the happy feeling he so desperately desired.

Another buzz.

It wasn't a question.

-AKC

Rolling his eyes once again, he set both the needle and his phone back down on the coffee table. He could hear Aryn's words ringing through his head the first night she found out he was addicted. "How dare you throw away such a beautiful mind with this..."

He thought it was curious that she had called his mind "beautiful". Most people viewed it as a curse or an annoyance. Then again, even John thought it was amazing that he could make such accurate deductions within seconds. It was his craft, and he was proud of it.

He looked down at the needle once more. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed it and tossed it in to the trash bin next to the couch with frustration. He knew Aryn would be able to tell. He didn't want to suffer through a lecture from her at this time of night.

Removing the rubber he had tied around his arm and grabbing his coat, he made his way downstairs to the street where he caught a cab to Scotland Yard.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The boxes were now dumped out on separate sections of the table. The old photographs had been placed into piles on some of the surrounding chairs, and John and Aryn were combing through all of the information, looking for any flower shops that the victims had visited. There were hundreds of transactions to go through, John's eyes squinting after going through so many lines.

He sat up, his back cracking from slouching so long, and looked over at Aryn. Her face was of pure determination, her fingers running along the pages at a fast pace. He could tell the lead was bringing back her motivation. They finally had something to go on.