An Awkward Situation....(a Sherlock story)

The encounter with the unknown...

"We are going to get caught!"

"Yes, yes we will, if you keep saying that! Shut it, and be discreet." Mycroft hissed at Molly as he tried his best to act casual. The lab coat he'd found was two sizes to small, so he had to leave it unbuttoned and wear one of Johns hideous sweaters underneath because apparently his normal suit was to conspicuous. He was just glad Sherlock wasn't there, surely he would be calling him "fat." or "ridiculous." or some other form of verbal abuse.

Molly glared back, adjusting her lab coat, which fit infuriatingly perfectly, "Yeah right, says Mr. Lets fly my helicopter into the window with the queens guards. Yeah, somehow I think this was a better plan."

A few people glanced sideways at them as Mycroft mimicked Molly being hanged if she messed it up, but besides that, they managed to avoid attention to themselves as they wandered through the hallways.

Mycroft balled his fists tightly, wishing the hollow feeling of dread would go away. He'd met the owner of the laboratory, a man named Jamen Cassius for business purposes years ago. He knew there was something off about the man, the way he talked about his test animals, he talked as if they were machines rather than living, breathing creatures. The way his eyes always flickered to the right, almost if he was always lying.(when someone is lying they tend to look to the right, a sign their using the creative part of the brain to think up a story. Some education y'all.) Now he had hold of Sherlock. He hated admitting feelings, but it terrified him. His stupid brother always managed to get himself into trouble.

He had his phone in hand, prepared to call the queen herself if something went wrong, but for now, they were walking through a maze. The signs were all medical terms, which provided no help, so they were left walking through the hall, hoping for some miracle where one of the signs said locate Sherlock and his lunatic buddies here.

The hallways were all the same, the scientists who walked past wore blank, dead expressions. It wasn't much unlike Mycrofts memory of when he was in school.

It wasn't until he heard Molly gasp when he realized she'd stopped walking. She was staring about ten feet away besides a door, her hand on her mouth as she stumbled back.

"What is it?" Honestly, he thought to himself, what was the woman doing? Here she was whimpering at a door when his brother could be being tortured at that very moment. He took a step closer, ready to snap at her when he realized her eyes were clouded with tears. Not sad tears, or angry tears. Terrified thick tears that streamed down her face, making her eyes blood shot and her body tremble.

"Molly," he whispered awkwardly, he was always horrible when it came to comforting others, "Why are your eyes raining?"

When Molly didn't answer, he began to walk slowly to the window, preparing for the worst. Were their experiments? Dead bodies? Sherlock's dead body? His imagination provided the adrenaline he needed to stifle a gag as he slowly peeked into the room.

The walls were covered in long, thick raven black sheets to block out all light except for the single window Mycroft was looking into. In the middle of the room was a single table, it was metal and bolted to the ground, with various large needles and chemicals spread across it. It wasn't that that bothered him though, it was the thick blotches of red that seemed to slide down the walls and into the middle of the room.

It wasn't blood, it was to thick, but the way it slithered made it almost seem alive as it pooled underneath the table where several data collecting lights flashed faintly through the matter. Radioactive signs were plastered messily around the room, as if someone had been in a hurry to put them up.

Mycroft had never seen anything so unnatural in his life. It was as if thousands of slugs had been combined into one bulbous mass, and crammed into a room. It wasn't possible, anyway. It was probably some sort of fungus. But why was it pooling into the middle of the room? And why did Jamen Cassius have it?

"What is this place?" Molly whispered, grabbing Mycrofts sleeve. For once, he didn't care.

Mycroft tore his eyes away from the strange substance, squeezing Molly's shoulder as he managed to say, "I don't know. But we need to find Sherlock, fast."

...

John slammed against Ludovic for what seemed like the hundredth time as he muttered, "No, no, not this way. Unless you're in need of a tinkle."

"Why would I need to-are you sure you worked here?" John hissed, pulling Ludovic away from the hallway as two scientists strolled past, discussing something about a headless chicken and a fork.

Ludovic pulled the collar of his coat up-John hated it, only Sherlock could do that and look cool. "Yes, but I don't quite remember the layout. I actually once got myself stuck in the ladies bathroom because I couldn't find the exit."

"For the love of...new plan, go find one of your work buddies and ask them where Jamen's office is."

"That's a great idea," Ludovic said, "But..."

"But...?"

Ludovic shrugged awkwardly, "I don't have friends. I've been told I'm needy and I chew with my mouth open."

"Wow, can't imagine you not having friends," John drawled sarcastically, before peeking his head into the hallway. There had to be a way to find Jamen's office. But how? Ludovic was no help, the building looked the same and was a complete maze. He was about to consider shooting his gun randomly until he came up with an idea when he heard a giggle.

Ludovic groaned, "Lucy, what are you doing here?"

Lucy, who was a scrawny, thin girl with a small face and two pale blonde braids stood in front of John, tugging on his pants, "You carry a gun. That's funny."

"Yes...quite entertaining..." John said absent mindlessly. The girl was covered in a hospital gown that swallowed her tiny frame, and her bare feet were almost black from dirt and muck.

"How'd you get out this time?" Ludovic asked cautiously, walking back slowly as if the girl would try and murder him.

Lucy giggled, or John assumed it was giggling. It sounded like sandpaper crawling up a wet piece of rubber, "Guards are stupid. They left the sedative on the table for me. They want me to sleep...but instead they sleep..."

Wow, John thought as Ludovic nodded nervously, what a freaky, messed up kid. Her large green eyes-which seemed to vibrant of a green to be real-began examining John's coat.

"Where have you come from?" She asked playfully, holding her gown like a dress.

John knelt down, obviously this child had seen some stuff. She reminded him of hopelessness and sour milk, "My home...err...why are you here?"

"I was taken." She muttered, her eyes softening for a second before she began to giggle again, "My mommy gave me away because daddy wanted to test me."

"Daddy?"

"Yes. Jamen. The scary man."

John nodded slowly, this may have been the most messed up, nightmare provoking child he'd ever encountered in his life, but she could help them find Sherlock.

Hi! Thanks for reading, I'm finally getting into my mystery I've been planning. I hope this is getting more interesting to you, because I'm planning a super rad story...glad you read this and HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEN. It may be in a week, but whatever (: