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One Step Closer *Finished* - BBC Sherlock (For LovelyLinda)


AppleBlossom

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Hello again! This is a VERY early birthday present for my awesome friend Lovelylinda! Why? Because she is amazing and wonderful, and she deserves it! smile.png

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It was precisely twenty-something seconds in to 12:32pm on a Tuesday afternoon on January the 2nd, 2012. Of course, Sherlock would have known that. However today, Sherlock was doing something that he solemnly swore that he would never do; have a lie-in.

Well, a lie-in is one thing that you could call it. In reality, Sherlock fell asleep halfway through his breakfast, sitting in his armchair, not even dressed.

The occurance would not have been a problem, except today was not a weekend, but a weekday. Sherlock was due into work this very morning. Evidence needed analysing, photographs of the crime scene needed studying and the investigation team needed a bloody good shove in the right direction.

Watson wasn't around. He told Holmes that a learning course had opened up quite a distance away from the center of London, and had decided to stay in a hotel, seeing as the course would increase his understanding in the medical field. Sherlock couldn't really complain. In the long-term, this would probably help them in different cases, but Sherlock couldn't help but feel utterly abandoned by his only friend.

In the days coming up to the departure, Sherlock felt more wary at the increasing boredom, creeping towards his direction and eating away at him slowly. He began to feel more sluggish, neglecting to eat regular meals and even forgetting to go to bed on a few occasions. Even though his recent case was almost finished, John leaving him would only make Sherlock, regretfully, prolong the investigation, just so he wouldn't go mad with boredom. Something that he was not proud of.

Even though he was sleeping, blissfully unaware that he could be using this time to lock away a psychopath or two; somebody had remembered him. Somebody had noticed his absence in the workplace, and was eager to find out the reason.

And there was Molly Hooper, standing nervously, a gloved finger hovering over the doorbell of 221B Baker Street.

Her hair parted in the way that Sherlock had appeared to like it, curled strands flicked in the winter air. Dark warming eyes scanned the building in front of her. Her thoughts turned back to the Christmas party a few days ago, his bitter words had burned her, yet, in the same minute, Sherlock caused her heart to flounder uncontrollably inside her chest. Wisps of mist flowed out her frozen lips sighing heavily, shifting from one foot to the other.

But Holmes sniffled in his sleep. Mauve, thin lips parted to allow air to softly slip in and out. A prominent nose glistened at the tip along with flushed cheeks, sunlight shining over his slumped, motionless frame. And then, something awoke him, making him jump with such a fright, to made his skin turn cold.

Buzz!

Glassy eyes flashed open with a thin, moist coating of sleep deprivation. His detection ajusted and kicked throughly into action. Realising his unfortunate, badly clothed situation, his senses turned to the door bell. Buzz! No, just no. Ignore it. It will go away. Buzz! The pressure applied to the doorbell seemed urgent and hurried. Whoever who out there would eventually leave. Buzz! Buzz! God, why couldn't anyone just leave him for one moment's peace--!

Sherlock heard the door abruptly creek open slightly, he noted Mrs Hudson's motherly voice soften from the guest's appearance at the door. He could not make out the muttered words of the guest, and decided quickly to be on his guard. He climbed out of his chair, and began making his way back to his bedroom, noting which clothes he would hurriedly decide to wear. Sherlock notified the pressure applied on each step and the time taken to move onto the next one; determining the stature, weight and height of the person in question.

Flinging off his silk dressing gown, calculations and assumpions shifting through his mind as to who could possibly be at the door so early in the morning. Throwing on his usual purple work shirt, someone called out to him. "Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson's voice made him stop dead in his tracks, trying desperately to speak out, but the sudden soreness of his throat convinced him otherwise.

"Sherlock dear, you have a visitor!" Her shrill voice struck panic inside of him. "Really Sherlock, I am not your housekeeper!"

He would have replied if it were possible, concentrating on making sure he had buttoned his shirt properly. What? Since when did he have to think on how to put a bloody shirt on?

"Heh'tsshh! Eh--! NmHmmph!"

The sound of his abruptly stifled sneezes ripped through the air as he sniffed noisely to try to control the nose that betrayed him.

"I know you're in there, dear! You can't keep your guest waiting!"

"Whoever is it, whatever they want, I don't care! Tell them to leave!" He huffed childishly, trying desperately to pull up his trousers. Remembering suddenly, that he had left his shoes in his living room, due to an unusual experiment he was conducting the night before, he hurriedly made his way there. "I'm coming in--!" The door suddenly unbolted, Sherlock smashed a shoulder against the wooden frame, both hands still desperately trying to zip his pants up.

"For goodness sake, Mrs Hudson!"

"Well I never!"

A light tap came to her shoulder, "It's alright, Mrs Hudson. I'll just go and let him be--" Her gentle voice was cut off, a frustrated growl cried out, "Oh no, you won't! Sherlock! Come out here this instant!"

"Will you hang on?!"

"Sherlock, I'm giving you to the count of 3! 1... 2--!"

"Alright!" He bellowed, the door swinging open, flicking his wrists to adjust his sleeves, "You don't half moan."

"Sherlock, Miss Molly is here to see you."

"Well, why would she what to do that?" Talking aloud as if she wasn't even present in the room, eyes quickly looking back from Molly to Mrs Hudson. "You didn't come into work, I thought something was wrong." Molly announced, speaking up, as Mrs Hudson closed the door behind her.

"Well, everything is fine." He spat at her, swiftly turning away, walking to his desk. Flipping the laptop open, he began to work his way through investigation filings. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for a more interesting case, is that alright with you?" His hand left the keyboard as his breath hitched sharply, just making it in time to pinch off the sound, "-Nng'cht!" As little, pathetic breaths filled its lungs, as he pinched his nose between thin fingers. "Eek'Ghxh!"

"Are you okay?"

"I am perfectly alright, Molly!" With firm, snapping tone, not bothering to even glance at her.

"Why aren't you at work today? I-I mean I know you wouldn't come if something really interesting came up. You never miss a day."

"Please, Molly. You're continous rambling is making me feel sick to my stomach!" He quickly bit back his words when he felt the hurt cut into her.

"Just, give me a reason. Give me a reason why you didn't come."

"I don't need to give you any reason at all." Lowering his tone, he snatched a quick glance in her direction.

"It's okay," She scanned his face quickly, taking note of his tired figure, "You didn't have to anyway."

Abruptly standing up, Molly thought he was personally going to throw her out; yet he turned at the very last moment, and returned to his faithful armchair. Sherlock opened a book which was resting on the arm of the chair, casually flicking through a few pages. The next moment, he slammed the book back down, cold eyes dug into Molly.

"If you're not going to leave me in peace, you might as well sit down." he spoke, muttering his low words from clenched teeth.

She perched on the edge of the opposite armchair, Sherlock muttered something about women not being able to sit in chairs properly. Molly didn't care to lock eyes with him, she found a tea-stained spot on the wooden floor a lot more interesting.

"Do you have a cold?" Molly asked after a short, uncomfortable period of silence.

Brushing a knuckle under his sore nose, he replied with a firm, "No."

"Why are you lying to me? I can clearly see it, it's all over your face--"

"Then why can't you leave me alone, Molly Hooper?!" he snarled, overly pronouncing every single word to intimidate her, "I didn't want you in my home, I made that perfectly clear!"

His shouting had seemed to cause a vibration in his sinuses, irritating him to no end. He had tried to fight it out, but now it was growing even more than ever.

"H- hh!"

He twisted his body away from Molly, eyes rapidly closing as he did. His chest was now fluttering with struggling breaths. But then, his face cleared and he returned back to his normal, irritated self. He whirled back to Molly, before he could speak, sneezed six times thunderously, leaning over the arm of the chair with harsh explosions.

"Eh'ISHhhuu! Hh.. Nhh--! ktschh!" His head snapped down as his large hand clamped on his nose hard as his shoulders shuddered with the strain. "Ohh god-- iiSCHhh! h'KISh'uh! ISH! ...Uh'NGGgSCHchu!"

Stumbling over to the bookcase, leaning on it for support, trying to find his box of tissues. "Huh'kissh'uh!" He failed, and the evidence had dispersed in the air. His hand gripping the wood of the shelf, knuckles thinning and white. Molly; completely struck with fear and helplessness, that she could only say the first thing that came to mind, "Bless you--"

"For fuck's sake, Molly!"

And Sherlock threw a thick book straight at her head.

Molly, however, moved barely a second before the book hit the wall behind her. A cry escaped the petrified woman, her pulse vibrated within her ears, noticing she was visibly shaken, Sherlock's eyes softened, "Molly, I--"

"No, no. Enough!" She shrieked out loud, so much that she had frightened herself, "I've had enough." her voice softened, almost as if she was telling herself. "Y-You treat me like nothing. As if I mean nothing to you! You always need me help for something or other, and I am at your side every, single time. And yet, here I am, again... Why do I always do this to myself?"

"Don't cry, Molly." Without any warning, he was standing by her side. Molly tried to step back and just leave him in his mess, but Sherlock came forward.

Slender, mansuline fingers ran through Molly's curled locks. Gently pulling at the strands, Sherlock leaned closer catching a warm flush spread across her cheeks. "Grown women don't look good with tears." Molly quickly obeyed and calmed her breathing down, not wanting to act even more of a fool in front of Sherlock. "It's my fault after all." The smooth skin of his finger grazed across her wet cheek. Her foot stepped back a fraction away from him. Eyes open with a mix of interest and confusion. Sherlock let his hand fall back to his side.

"Come on, let's go." He moved towards the door, leaving Molly stunned.

"W-Where?"

"Out. I need some fresh air." Grabbing his dark coat from the hook.

"But it's raining now," He sighed heavily, "Are you coming or not?" He questioned, wrapping his scarf around his pale neck.

Molly didn't say a word, but meekly exited the flat, Sherlock silently trailing behind.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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I'm just going to sit quietly in a corner and sigh happily over this, okay? :wub:

Your descriptions of his fingers and hands are ridiculously sexy.

And that fit... Jeezus... :dribble:

Poor, sweet Molly, though. Cold-ridden Sherlock = scary but sexy as hell Sherlock.

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Darling, darling, darling. You've done it again! This is absolutely brilliant, and I honestly can't get over your writing style. It's so interesting and descriptive and to die for<3

"Whoever is it, whatever they want, I don't care! Tell them to leave!" He huffed childishly, trying desperately to pull up his trousers. Remembering suddenly, that he had left his shoes in his living room, due to an unusual experiment he was conducting the night before, he hurriedly made his way there. "I'm coming in--!" The door suddenly unbolted, Sherlock smashed a shoulder against the wooden frame, both hands still desperately trying to zip his pants up.

"For goodness sake, Mrs Hudson!"

Also this was absolutely hilarious. I just sdkf;jslfsdlkj clapping.gif

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Bahaha!! So good! I have such unhealthy love for Sherlock...even when he's ill and pissy :wub: Perfect. I could totally hear his voice when he threw that book, by the way, you got him spot on!

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Oh my goooood!!!!!!

You are so sweet, this is such a lovely present <3 And it's just in time before I'll be on vacation this week!!! Thank you sooooo much!!!! <3

YOU are amazing :)

Here are the thoughts I had while reading :)

"…not even dressed."

Rowrrrr, makes me think of that white sheet and Buckingham Palace ;)

"but Sherlock couldn't help but feel utterly abandoned by his only friend."

N'awwwwwwww.

As little, pathetic breaths filled its lungs, as he pinched his nose between thin fingers. "Eek'Ghxh!"

Mmmmmmmmm *_* Poor Sherly. Sexy stifles. Love your spelling, btw.

"I am perfectly alright, Molly!" With firm, snapping tone, not bothering to even glance at her.

I can totally see this in my head, it's so in character!! You got his tone down sooo perfectly <3 I really love your writing style!!!

"Do you have a cold?" Molly asked after a short, uncomfortable period of silence.

Brushing a knuckle under his sore nose, he replied with a firm, "No."

"Why are you lying to me? I can clearly see it, it's all over your face--"

Awww, I love HER analysing HIM, and him being uncomfortable and pissy about that.

"H- hh!"

He twisted his body away from Molly, eyes rapidly closing as he did. His chest was now fluttering with struggling breaths. But then, his face cleared and he returned back to his normal, irritated self. He whirled back to Molly, before he could speak, sneezed six times thunderously, leaning over the arm of the chair with harsh explosions.

"Eh'ISHhhuu! Hh.. Nhh--! ktschh!" His head snapped down as his large hand clamped on his nose hard as his shoulders shuddered with the strain. "Ohh god-- iiSCHhh! h'KISh'uh! ISH! ...Uh'NGGgSCHchu!"

Stumbling over to the bookcase, leaning on it for support, trying to find his box of tissues. "Huh'kissh'uh!" He failed, and the evidence had dispersed in the air. His hand gripping the wood of the shelf, knuckles thinning and white. Molly; completely struck with fear and helplessness, that she could only say the first thing that came to mind, "Bless you--"

Thissssssss here killed me in the best way possible. *_* I love you, love you, love you.

There's too much that's brilliant to list it here.

I just wanted to tell you, that this is FANTASTIC!

Thank you soooo much, you don't know how much this means to me :)

I'll be eagerly awaiting your next installments *_*

(I hope you're fast, I don't want to wait until after the classtrip to read it....)

Lots of lovely LOVE,

yours Linda

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VoOs: Haha! I can't tell you how much I secretly enjoyed writing that bit. So much fun! :D

Tma: Thank you for commenting! I'm glad you liked my descriptions.

Always: I felt so naughty writing the trouser bit, but who wouldn't want to see a half naked Sherlock, or even better a--! *ahem* N-Never mind. :wub:

Quite Contrary: Get ready for some even more stubborn Sherlock, and I can relate to you about love of Sherlock! ;)

Lovelylinda: I'm so happy that you liked your birthday present, and there is still more to come! Sorry, this took a while to write, but it's here now! I hope you enjoy!

_________________

The wind battered the odd looking couple. Every rain drop felt like miniature hammers. Molly looked, observing the bitter, cold wind whipping the harsh rain against them. Grabbing her small, black umbrella, Sherlock slammed the door, as Molly clumsily trying to open her umbrella.

"Give it here." He moaned, holding out his hand for the umbrella. She sighed in defeat, handing it to Sherlock. Opening it easily, a blinding liquid fog surrounded them, as they hurried to find a cab. 

Grey thick clouds surrounded the city of London, air thick with polution made its way around, kinking and swirling through the rays of light trying desperately to shine through the clouds. Sherlock could already feel the burning tingle growing. The bridge of his nose wrinkled with irritation, nostrils twitching unbearably, as he inhaled helplessly. "-Hh’kKschh!"

The first sneeze took him by surprise as it echoed slightly across the tower blocks. His ebony hair flopped a little, from the force of the sneeze. A hand clasped quickly over his nose and mouth, as it somehow seemed to intensify the throbbing coming from his forehead.

"--Isscht! Heh'GgSCHT!"

The harsh, desperate sneeze had bent him at the waist, the umbrella dropped from his hands, and Molly was only able to catch it just before it hit the ground. She sucked on her bottom lip, muttering, "Sherlock, I think we should go home."

"Molly." He warned, drawing out her name. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he didn't notice the rain seeping through his coat. "I'm just worried about you." Sherlock scanned the street, ignoring Molly's words. He noted a taxi coming around the third bend of the street. "You-- You never really think about your wellbeing. I really think we should get you inside."

"Thank you for your concern." He breathed, finally locking his eyes into hers, the taxi coming up behind him. "But I have taken your thoughts into consideration." In one swift motion, Sherlock opened the door swung his legs into the moving taxi, giving a little wave, before the taxi sped off, leaving Molly standing in the rain.

"S-Sherlock?" Running out into the middle of the road, looking through the bitter rain, she screamed, "Sherlock!" Panicking, she flagged down another taxi, hurriedly telling the driver to follow the other one. Molly growled in frustration, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the black cab. That infuriating man! How in the world was she ever going to control him? Curving round corners, peering round streets, she watched Sherlock's cab come out of a long drive way, through tall metal gates.

 

Jumping out of the vehicle and paying the driver; brown eyes scanned the building in front of her, before Molly's eyes borred into the back of Sherlock's head. The corner of his lips twitched, as he turned to face her. "How long do I have to wait for you? Be more considerate, Molly."

Running up to the entrance, umbrella in hand, she cried, "But-- I? You were the one who left me just standing there!"

"Well of course, Molly. I had to see if you would follow me."

"But, why?" Sherlock blinked, lips pursed together, azure eyes merged into hers. Molly felt her knees getting weaker and the temperature in her cheeks rose. They didn't say a word, but it was the fact that they didn't have to. It made Molly's chest seem to barely contain her heart, like it felt strained to keep it in, like it didn't belong to her anymore. "Shall we go in?" Sherlock suggested.

"Alright." Almost like a gentleman, he opened the door for her. She wondered why he stood waiting for her in the pouring rain. As they entered the sanitized building, the petrified screams, mumbling and demonic rambling hit Molly hard.

"W-What is this place?!"

"An asylsm, Molly. Even you should be able to deduct that from the very large sign outside the door."

"I was too busy looking out for you!" She huffed, flicking the water out of her hair, "Why are we here?"

"A convicted psychopath was charged with the murder of her only friend."

"That's... horrible."

"Oh, but it gets better!" He grinned like a young boy, before noticing the look on Molly's face, before returning to his original point. "This man, her friend, was found late one night, with rope tied around his wrists, ankles and neck. Hh.. However, what's even more interesting is the convict.. Ihh-- issht! H'ISCHT! ...convicted killer."

"Bless you."

"Stop it." He spat, shooting a sideways glance at Molly. She could tell he was not pleased, even so he carried on.  

"The convicted killer just happened to wander into this asylsm, in the middle of the night. She does have some psychological disorders, but they are not high enough on the spectrum for her to be placed in a mental hospital."

"So why did she go to the asylsm?"

"Exactly. She never even confessed to murdering her friend, yet she somehow ended up mentally unstable and in a straitjacket." Walking towards reception, Molly butted in.

"Wait. How did you even know about this case?" Stepping forward in Sherlock's path.

"I looked it up while you were still babbling away at me."

Moving to the desk, a bleary eyed man looked up at them, as Sherlock place a hand on the desk. "I'm looking for Savannah. Savannah Aubree?"

"Are you a family relative?"

Flashing his stolen police badge, he insisted "I'm a detective. Good enough for you?" The receptionist came out from behind the desk, flicking through his chain of keys, "She doesn't like visitors."

"Well, she hasn't met me." Sherlock smirked, as a hand came to scrub at his now pink nose. 

The threesome began walking quietly along the bleached white walls; each of the cells stopped howling and muttering as they listened to the steps on the tiled floor. Turning the final corner, the receptionist stopped in front of a door, and opened the slide to look inside the cell. "She's awake."

"Good. She can answer my questions." Sherlock smiled forcefully to the man, catching a quick glance at Molly, as she nodded at him. "I'll get security for you, just in case." He called someone over his radio, and other man came to his side, almost hesistantly, he unlocked the door.

"Savannah? You have a visitor." The security guard called out to the ball of white in the corner of the padded walls. Then, she turned towards them.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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Ahhh, update<3

Really loved this, and the case seems incredibly interesting.

"Bless you."

"Stop it." He spat, shooting a sideways glance at Molly. She could tell he was not pleased, even so he carried on.

And I especially loved this little part. :wubsmiley:

Can't wait for more, love~

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Ooo... more intrigue. I cannot wait for more. This is brilliant!

The passage that Always quoted- that was one of my favourites as well. Just so good!

Oh.. and

Flashing his stolen police badge, he insisted "I'm a detective. Good enough for you?" The receptionist came out from behind the desk, flicking through his chain of keys, "She doesn't like visitors."

"Well, she hasn't met me." Sherlock smirked

just brilliant! Love it! :wub:

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The game is on. *excited wriggling in chair*

You write him absolutely brilliantly. It almost gives me goosebumps. :wub:

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Always: Thank you very much for commenting! All of your comments fill my heart up! :P Yeah, Sherlock can be such a little child sometimes!

Tma: Aww thanks! I was actually wondering if that was too out of character, but I'm glad I kept it in! :)

VoOs: Thank you! I love writing Sherlock, he just so..... Yum! :D

Oh and... HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELYLINDA!

_________________

"Who are they?" Her voice dragged across the air in one monotonous purr. Sherlock and Molly moved into the room, yet Sherlock spoke first. "We're here to talk about your murdered friend."

"What is your first name?" Savannah specified.

"Mark." Sherlock lied.

"You're lying. Mark is a normal name, and you are not normal. You're abnormal. And your face is too. So, I'll ask you again, what is your name?"

Hesistant, he replied, "Sherlock." The girl grinned widely, twisting to face him head on, "I thought so, Sherlock is an ugly name. An ugly name for an ugly face." Molly bit her cheek, wishing she hadn't followed Sherlock all the way here. Sherlock didn't say a word; only breathing heavily through his increasingly blocked nose. 

"And the female?" Brown eyes met each other, Molly swallowed, "Molly. My name is Molly." A finger pointed to her, "Honesty!" Savannah exclaimed happily. Suddenly, she stood from her corner moving closer towards him, "Something you don't have." She cursed Sherlock quietly.

"Can you tell us why you came here, to the asylsm?" He questioned, ignoring her last statement. "I thought this was somewhere else." Her eyes lifted to the dim lightbulb stuck inside the ceiling.

"What do you mean?"

Before Savannah answered him, she began to walk along the walls of her room, lightly clicking the roof of her mouth with her tongue as she did. Coming towards the couple, she paused, before saying, "You're in my way." Sherlock and Molly walked into the centre of the room, only then did Savannah continue pacing along the edges of her room.

"Tell us about yourself, Savannah." She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "I need to know the names of things."

"Such as?"

"I like stars. I know their names and when they come to visit me. They tell me the date in return." She smiled brightly, like an innocent child who just told a very naughty secret. Sherlock didn't understand why, but he could feel the air tense up around the guard behind them. 

What annoyed Sherlock more than not being able to analyse her (because of the white-washed uniform she was wearing, and her unearthly presence), was the growing itch inside his nasal cavitites. This was not the time to be fighting a losing battle with his own body! And yet; his nose continued to decieve him. 

He sniffed once. And then again. Feeling the prickle build inside of his nose, he breath became sallow and hurried. Eyes squinting, nostril flaring, he could not longer control the urge. "Ih' ekgSCHHuh! Hh—EKSSCHt!" Sherlock managed to cover his nose just in time. He was, however, incapable of preventing a small but exhausted moan escaping his lips. Despite the warmth of the room, he shivered and coughed lightly into his fist.

"Germs." Savannah began pointing frantically at the thin air, rapidly naming each and every organism which Sherlock had released into the air around them: she was becoming hysterical and Molly tried to calm her. 

"Savannah? Please, can you listen to us? We need to talk to you about your friend. The one people think you have murdered. Can you talk to us?"

"I can talk." She piped up, "But there are too many people here," Copper eyes scanned only to lock with the security man standing by the door. Savannah moved closer to Molly, unnnaturally close. "I will talk later. When no one is around."

"Okay, we'll talk later." Molly agreed with her; Savannah grinned before clicking her tongue and walking across the room.

Sherlock; on the other hand, had his fingertips clasped at his temples, trying to create his 'mind place'. Deep inside his own thoughts, he analysed every step, every word, and every sound he remembered... Every sound. 

"That clicking, that tapping; whatever sound you are making, stop it this instant!" Sherlock gritted his teeth, turning his neck to the girl.

"It keeps my sanity. It is not my problem if it removes yours."

He growled, returning back to analysing Savannah; he noted her hair - Not important - her clothes - invalid - her eyes... Sherlock swiftly strided towards her. "Her pupils are severly dilated."

"Yes, I'm--"

"Doped up on all of the drugs they have been prescribing her." The security man smiled, "No worries." Sherlock nodded, 'I see what she means. We should talk alone' He thought, referring to the man's sudden opinion in the matter.

His head snapped away from her, and his senitive nose began to cruelly tease him again. As Sherlock's mouth trembled, he began to try to squelch sneezes into the sleeve of his coat, abruptly turning away from the party. "Heh- Ttsschh! IsSCHH!" He breathed loudly through his mouth, catching his breath. 

"I think we've seen enough. Snf!" Sherlock faked a smile, "I just need her prescriptions for her medication."

"Why?"

"Just standard procedures. That's all." The security man agreed and let the two out of the cell. Returning to the reception, the medicine was ready for them. "Here is her dopamine tablets, and her antidepressants."

"Antidepressants?"

"Yes. Wouldn't you be depressed? Alone in a room, no communcation with the outside, 24 hours a day for 7 days a week?" Sherlock smirked before turning around and talking to the open, empty corridor, "Look, they gave me your doggy bag."

"Well," He watched Savannah take 2 and half steps into the light. "I am your pet."

"You're not my pet. You're the victim," He looked back at her, and caught the glimmer in her eye, "For now."

"Oh my god! How did she get out?!" The receptionist leaned over the counter-top, not really trusting his eyes. "Simple. You didn't lock the door."

They both sighed with relief, "Oh, of course! Sorry, I'll get her back inside." The security guard grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back in the direction she came. Savannah winked at Sherlock, sticking out her small, pink tongue as she did.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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Eeeee~

I know I keep saying it over and over, but my goodness this is brilliant! You're writing style is to die for, honestly! Do descriptive, I love it.

yes.gif

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...and this case just keeps getting more and more intriguing. Savannah is an extremely fascinating character.

Oh, and your spellings make me tingle in funny places. Ohohoho. <3

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Always: Thank you very much... Again! :D Do tell if I can improve any where, I swear I go overboard with the descriptions! :L

VoOs: Your comments always make me so happy! I'm glad you liked Savannah, I was worried about bringing in such a weird character, thanks dear!

Sorry guys, but the next part might take a while, I'm very busy at the moment with stupid school assessments and essays! :P

_________________

Both Sherlock and Molly sat into the labratory together. Sherlock looked through his microscope at the crushed dopamine drug, as Molly handed him each piece of equipment when he needed it.

"Sherlock?"

"Molly." He mimiced her childishly. She swiveled around on her stool, facing him head on. "How did Savannah actually get out of her cell?"

"I took the keys."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to talk to her later, even you explained it with her." He give a liquid sniff, before zooming in closer to the powder in its dish. "The other one," He murmured, raising his hand out to her.

"What are we even going to ask her?" She questioned, handing him the antidepressent drug. "We're going to ask her about what happened the night she came to the asylsm."

"What do you think happened to her?"

"I don't know, Molly. That's why I'm going to ask her!" He clenched his jaw, rethinking was he had seen. When analysing her, he detected the amount of steps that she had taken to stand in front of him was not nessesary. She was always in his personal area. She moved with complete prosistion, in line with each opposite wall beside her, and she turned corners at exactly 90 degrees, as is humanly possible.

And there was something else. What was it? ...Ah yes, it was--! "Heh.. iZzkXtchh!" Dammit. That sneeze lost his train of thought. With another thick wet sniff, Molly pulled a face in his direction, she moaned, "Why do you have to be so--?!"

"This isn't an antidepressent." He stood up, staring down the glass dish. "Are you sure you gave my the right one?"

"Yes, yes! I'm sure." She double checked herself, but she was right. It was the antidepressent drug. "Its molecular structure isn't right.. Why isn't it--?!" 

His voice trembled as he uttered the words, "Damn it.." then he launched into several harsh sneezes that he desperately tried to stifle. "Molly, hh--Eh'ttssch! d-don't let me contam-- Hhh'nNGXtt! contaminate the evidence!" The tips of his ears and the high points of his cheeks were a dull red. He couldn't stop. He couldn't function. He couldn't think.

"Hh'kKSCHH! ehh-- nNgXtt!"

Molly gently placed her hands to the sides of his shoulders, moving him away from the desk. She could feel through her fingertips tiny shivers through his thin black jacket. "kKnXTchh! I'm... I'm sorr.." he pressed a shaking fist against his nose, calming his breathing, only then did he mutter a uncomfortable "sorry."

She didn't say anything; she didn't want to embarrass him any further. After an awkwardly tense silence, Molly began the conversation again, "W-What about the receptionist? Why was he so worried about Savannah?"

He spoke, perking up a little more, "The receptionist saw Savannah, yet he said it as if it were physically impossible for her to leave her room. What is something to do with her medication?"

"I never did ask. Why did you take her medicine?"

"Easy. The security guard told me." Her eyebrow lifted in confusion, Sherlock sighed at the thought of explaining to her. "When I observed her, and noted her dilated pupils, the guard said it was because of 'all of the drugs'. The word, 'all' would indicate more than two, since all we have been given are two drugs. Secondly, the clicking noises. It's not an impulsation, because if it was, the only reason she would be doing it would be to calm herself down; and in both moments - when we came into the room, and when I sneezed - she did not click the roof of her mouth. Even in high stress situations, she didn't click her tongue, therefore it is not an impulse, she only uses it when necessary. But when it is necessary?!"

"Sherlock--?"

"Molly, please. You've asked me enough questions already; will you let me think?!" He groaned, pinching the bridge of his fragile nose.

"No, umm... I wasn't going to ask you a question." Sherlock didn't response, he merely kept his eyes closed. "Well, anyway; I once watched a doctumentary, late at night. It was programme about how people have a sixth sense, or something like that. When someone clicks their tongue, it bounces off objects and you can detect where the object is. Only, I don't think I'm right but... People who click their tongues," Blue eyes flicked open to hear her conclusion, "are usually blind."

Like a giant puzzle, everything fell into place. "Molly Hooper! You are a genius!" Overwhelmed with joy, Sherlock decided, at last, to reward her. Suddenly he took her face in his cold hands; from the pressure of his hands, she could tell he was almost nervous... Especially when he leaned in, she could smell the clean, soapy scent coming from him-- A scent which she knew she would never forget. When he leaned closer, a flutter of warm breath past over her, and pale lips just brushed against her soft forehead. She couldn’t help but tremble along hearing the sound of his heart pounding inside his chest, trying to hide the fact that her blood was flowing rapidly in her cheeks, making her face as red as ever.

For Molly; it seemed so slow and gentle, for Sherlock, it barely took a second. 

Sherlock rapidly returned to his excitement, "She's blind! That's why she can move around her room with such prosistion!"

"But s-s-she can't blind! How did she know we were even in her room? How did she know that I was a woman and you were a man? I mean, she even said you had an ugly face-- n-not that I think you do! But she did say it." Molly traced off silently, still overcome with shock of Sherlock's tender actions.

"She's not entirely blind! I remember back in the asylsm... Before we left, she winked at me--" 

"She winked at you?!"

"Will you let me finish?" He cut her off, noticing the jealously in her voice. "She didn't 'wink' at me, it was a sign. A signal. A visual code of some sort... She's not completely blind!"

"What kind of blind is she then?"

"She is blind-- well, she isn't. Not completely, but she is!" A hand covered his frowning mouth, nose scrunched up, eyebrows knitted close together in thought, staring sightlessly and wordlessly. 

"She has.." His foggy mind tried to frantically work away at the answer; when something clicked, slapping his forehead hard at his stupidity, "Ohh, night blindness!" Hands moving and flailing about. "It is a vision impairment that occurs at night or when light is dim. It does not the result in a complete lack of vision but significantly impaired vision! People with night blindness often have difficulty driving at night or... seeing stars!" He began jumping about, racing around the room for new equipment. "That's why she had to map out the stars! She couldn't see them!" He stopped for a moment, noticing the bewildered look on Molly's face, moving towards her. "Several different factors cause night blindness. What are they?!" 

Molly's brain suddenly began to function again, momentarily getting lost in Sherlock's blue eyes. "Oh, well, there are cataracts, birth defects, or even a..." Grabbing a pipette the other side of Molly, Sherlock squeezed a clear liquid inside of it, and delicately placed a liquid drop onto the crushed drug. A chemical reaction took place as the powder fizzed and bubbled; this seemed to confirm Sherlock's assumption, "A vitamin A deficiency!"

"They have been giving her vitamin A tablets!"

"But why did they give her vitamin A tablets? What does that even mean?!" Molly cried, Sherlock swirling towards her in a hyperactive spiral, gripping her upperarms and shaking them with every other word. "It means Molly, she never meant to walk into the asylsm."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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I'm so curious to see where all this leads! :bounce:

Sherlock having his triumphant realisations, like an eager little kid... too adorable. >/////<

And that forehead kiss! I'm melting along with Molly here. :wub:

This is so good. <3

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  • 2 weeks later...

Hiya guys!

Sorry about the wait, but I kind of need your help. I'm stuck on what should happen in the asylsm with Molly and Sherlock, I do know what sort of naughtiness they'll be getting up to after though! *snicker* :D

Any suggestions or thoughts, I'd be really grateful! ;)

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I don't have any suggestions, I'm sorry, but I just wanted to say that I hope you get some inspiration because I'm loving this story and I would hate to see it not be finished. Sneezy Sherlock forever!! thumbsupsmileyanim.gif

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I don't have any suggestions, I'm sorry, but I just wanted to say that I hope you get some inspiration because I'm loving this story and I would hate to see it not be finished. Sneezy Sherlock forever!! thumbsupsmileyanim.gif

Yup. Exactly this. Word by word. She nailed it.

Please let there be more *_* I'm so...sherlocked =D

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Sorry guys about the shortness and all the waiting for this part, but it's here now! I'm still a bit stuck but I am getting through this horrible writer's block! Thank you for reading! :)

______________________

"Okay Molly, don't do anything stupid. I know what you're like."

A gaping mouthed Molly tried to rack her brain for a comeback, but none came. She even whatever she said, he would always come out on top. Standing in a dark, cold hallway; the pair listened intensely for any sight of movement from anything. Sherlock slid the window slide open; observating a psychotic grinning Savannah, waving from her corner.

"She's in."

"Where else would she be?" Molly giggled, before pressing her lips together at the sight of Sherlock's agitated glare. "Wait outside."

"W-What? Outside, in the open corridor?!"

"Yes. I'm going to talk to her."

"But she doesn't even like you."

Sherlock ignored her, and motioned her to stand next to the door. Molly groaned loudly, but did as she was told, not wanting to get her head bitten off, by a sniffly Sherlock. The mess would be atrocious.

"Fine." Molly spat out into the darkness, leaning against the side of the wall, watching Sherlock as he slipped inside the cell.

Closing the door behind him, Sherlock turned to face the sweet smiling psychopath. "Hello Sherlock." She grinned, not bothering to click her tongue to see where he was standing.

That unsufferable itch returned again. Massaging the sides of his nose with his fingers, sniffling deep, he blinked. Sherlock could feel the slippery slope of tickish fluid running down his nose.

"Hh'ngXt!" Pinching his affending organ harshly, taking extreme care not to make a sound.

Sherlock ran a finger under his nose, feeling agitated when he felt the warm runny substance dripping out and that he hadn’t even realized it. How long had his nose been running? He sniffled slowly and carefully as he could. "I see they've given you your daily intake." Sherlock muttered, watching Savannah stand up in the moon-lit cell. "Yes, but they have halfed it. I don't know why."

"Well, we'll find out eventually, won't we?" 

Soft eyes shifted to the small window, she whispered, "They come in the night."

"What?"

"They come. Every night, the screaming gets closer and closer to my cell. They're coming for me." Savannah moved a little closer to Sherlock, something which he noted.

"How did you get here? Why did you come to this asylsm?"

She pulled a strange expression, "Why would anyone come to an asylsm?"

"Oh." Another hint gave his mind the sudden click with another piece sliding into the puzzle. Why did every woman he knew had to help him out with his investagation. First Molly, and now Savannah. God, was his illness really reducing his deduction skills? No, no! Of course no! He wasn't ill.

"You were forced here, weren't you?"

"Yes, things happened. And I accidently walked in on them doing the dirty."

He coughed, "What?"

"Murdering him, Sherlock. I watched them murder that man." 

Raising a pale fist to his flickering nostrils, his chest heaved and swiftly expanded, "Eh.. EH’nXTtsshhh!" He snorted wetly not even bothering to maintain any manners. "Well," he sniffed, "that was unfortunate."

"It was. And now I'm stuck here, alone." She blinked, looking through the latch of the door, "Where is your lady friend?"

"Lady friend?" Eyes flicked to the surprisingly quiet door. Oh, Molly. Opening the heavy door once more, Sherlock turned the corner to see a long, dark empty corridor.

"For god sake, Molly!"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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This is really well-written! 8D I don't even care about the fandom; this is an amazing story even without knowing who these people are because you make them stand out and stuff and omggg this is amazing can I has more

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Oooooo!!!! Another part!! *grins like a total goof*

:hug: :hug: I absolutely hate that "stuck" feeling- and *absolutely* no apologies for any lag. You are doing brilliantly and I wish you continued inspiration with your writing.

:wub:

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  • 3 weeks later...

*Runs towards you, clutching papers upon papers*

I g-got the first chapter! *catches breath* I love you all for waiting so patiently for this! There are still more chapters to come hopefully, as long as nothing gets in my way..!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

An annoyed Sherlock darted through badly-lit hallways, scanned the areas for any evidence that Molly might have left behind. Nothing. Not a scrape on the floor. Not a hair off her head. Everything was completely bare. Too bare. Maybe she left. No, Molly was too needy and caring to abandon Sherlock. His best guess was that she had been silently carried away. Probably filled with a cocktail of drugs. These men had had a career to practise this. 

Spending precious minutes looking for the daft woman; a noise came from behind him. Footsteps of guards patrolling the corridors; he looked towards the door of a storage room and his mind sprung into action. Sliding against the wall, sprinting hurriedly, he turned the handle, and quickly went inside the storage room.

The sudden run and adrenaline pumping through him made his breathing erratic and heavy. Concealing some ticklish coughs into the fabric of his sleeve, he tried desperately to create some kind of plan in order to find those bloody women.

Sherlock sniffed gingerly; a small irritating feeling has settled itself in his nose. Being surrounded by cold air in an unheated room wasn't helping the situation. A look of irritated anticipation came over his face: his eyes fluttered shut, his head tipped back, chest heaving with struggling breaths. But then, his face cleared and he returned back to his normal, tired self.

He couldn't sneeze, not when blulked-up men were outside just waiting for him to slip up. The tingling in the nose, however, would not ablige to his wishes. Raspy breath hitching uncontrollably, eyes watering, trying to fight back the urge to rid himself of that damn irritating feeling that was still dwelling in there. Long finger crushed his thin nose before letting the sneeze escape, "--nxt!"

He sighed with relief at his skilled quietness, and yet the tickle came back with venegance. With his head curled into his shoulder and promptly clamping his flaring nostrils shut, silencing three painful sneezes, each sending waves of pain through his head.

"NNgkx! KSHx! NNgx!—ugh."

With those agonizing throbs, something came to the brillant Sherlock Holmes; if he was caught by the men, they could take him to where Molly probably was. All he had to do was memorise the way there, free Molly, and make his way out of the asylsm.

Lowering his hands from his face, he tipped his head back, his nostrils trembling as his lips parted slowly. "Heh'nnGXTtch!" He sprayed out into the open air.

The door swung open and Sherlock was thrown out into the open; sighing, he let the men restrain him and push him to his knees. Concealing a childish smirk, he waited to be dragged away. However, the guards had a another plan in mind. The sharp sterilzed object penetrated through the skin just underneath his collarbone; panic and cold fluid drained down to his chest. Sleep seemed just so inviting to him. Dammit, no! This w-was no time.. to sssuccome--!

His body slumped and his mind faded. Another blurred figure came to his clouded vision, the outlining of a straightjacket and hands holding the figure back could be seen, before the darkness encircled him and Savannah sighed, "You too?"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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WHAT HOLY, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! D8

YOU CAN'T LEAVE US HANGING THERE DUDE.

Just those two words and I'm all sofuasifauiofuai ; n ; I hope you come back soon.

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