Reminiscing

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It was raining heavily that night and I suddenly realized that I forgot a crucial item. "Oops! I haven't bought a new umbrella!" The old one has a hole in it because I used it in one of my murder plan so I burned it.

I offered Sherlock a blanket as he insisted that he's comfy enough to sleep on my sofa. I kept the fire going and took a glance at his sleeping figure. Sherlock's past... He once had a best friend named Victor but one day he was missing- no, he was killed. The incident got him so stressed that he forced himself to rewrote his memory, where those two don't exist.

Why did I say TWO? Well, that's because there is one more person Sherlock wants to forget. They were both part of his childhood.

A childhood huh...

I throw more firewood into the chimney. They must be happy, unlike me. I watch the raging fire, then my memories drifted to the burning mansion. When that happiness is gone, he became like this. I guess that's what makes him human.

Then, what about me? Before papa died, I too, have happy memories, do I? Why didn't I look as terrible as Sherlock?

That day at papa's funeral...

*Sob! Sob!* "Honey!" Mama cried at the corner of the room. Some of our relatives tried to console her but failed.

I tugged my uncle's sleeve. "Uncle, can you call papa for me? Mama is crying." Seeing my uncle just stood there, looking at me with pity, I let go of him and try to console her instead. "Mama! Mama! Don't cry! I told uncle to call papa! I'm sure he will be back-"

*SLAP!*

That was the first time mama slapped me.

"You demon child! Are you out of your mind?! It's all your fault! He died AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" Mama tried to hit me but the relatives held her and protected me from harm.

"Calm down! Be rational for once! Stop blaming a child for someone's death!" One of them said.

"Um- papa... Papa is dead?" I looked at my uncle who protected me at that time. "What does dead mean uncle?" I could remember my uncle's crestfallen face as he couldn't muster a word to answer my question.

I watch the cackling fire as I sighed after remembering my past. "He's an impostor, mama." I mumbled to myself in front of the fire. Papa died long time ago. He killed him. Why do you hate me? I saved us from him. "Perfect murder... How scary." It's such an unthinkable for anyone to believe I pulled that out when I was a mere 6 years old.

The day I killed the impostor is still fresh inside my mind.

"Papa! Papa! This ball you bought is reaaaally cool! My friends are jealous you know!" I flatter that impostor with obliviousness.

"Really Miu chan?~ That makes papa happy, but why a ball? Shouldn't girls like Miu chan play with dolls?"

I grinned. "That's because papa liked to play soccer! That's why I wanted a ball for my birthday! I'll become as good as papa in soccer!"

"My daughter is such a lovely girl~" I'm not your daughter bastard.

"Watch me! Hiyaah!" I kicked the ball to the empty road.

"Ah! Miu chan! Let me get the ball." He went to the road and at the corner of my eye, truck-kun is coming. "You shouldn't play near the road. It's dangerous!"

"Papa! Papa! Stay there! Let's play catch! Throw the ball to me!" I jumped up and down, earning chuckles from that man.

"Hahaha! Sure. Here! Catch!" I successfully caught the ball. I smiled while holding the ball.

"Good job Miu chan! Now it's your turn now~"

I smirked. "Yeah, it's my turn." I looked up to see his unsuspecting gaze. "Goodbye impostor."

"What-" *BAAAM!* Truck kun strikes again. Mama don't have any proof to my murder. She just blamed me for insisting to go out and play with 'papa'.

I once again brought back to reality by the cackling sound of the dying flames. "All those memories, despite being somber, they are, my only treasures." I'm already an incomplete human with lack of remorse. Sensei told me that I'm a psycho, but I still can be a good person.

"If you want to be a good person, then do good deeds. But that doesn't mean I allow you to let yourself be played by others' schemes! You must be cunning to strike back! Not because you're annoyed. but because they will endanger you if you just stay still!" That's what he once told me.

"A good person..." I stare at my palms. So far, I haven't killed anyone other than to save my own life. Such perfect existence doesn't exist. No one is 100% good. Everyone has their own flaws of crime. The only difference is how strong the flaw is, determined by someone's background. But that doesn't mean they are 100%  bad either. Sometimes they are just...."Delusional." While the me here is being delusional on how to become a good person.

I put more firewood before entering my bedroom.

"..." Sherlock kept quite while listening to Mori's random ramblings.

"He's an impostor, mama." "Perfect murder... How scary." "All those memories, despite being somber, they are, my only treasures." "A good person..." "Delusional."

Are all the only things Mori spatted out while he was covering himself underneath that blanket. Sherlock could guess that Mori's past isn't a bright one, but despite that, he just kept smiling as if nothing had happened. Those memories are breaking Mori, he thought. That's why he prefer not to mention anything and kept it to himself, just like how he did.

Mori doesn't want to lose himself, Sherlock admired that part Mori has. To him, Mori is another mystery that has yet to be solved. "Pfft- how interesting. London now has three consultant." Detective Consultant, Crime Consultant and Death Consultant.

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