literature

Sherlock? Chapter 1

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The next morning, I woke up late.  My phone usually provided me with an alarm at six, but seeing as I had turned it off, I woke up instead at nine thirty.  Mumbling to myself frustratedly, I rubbed my eyes sleepily as I remembered that it was Sunday; my do-whatever-I-like day.  I sighed as I let my head flop back onto the pillow; deciding to turn my phone back on to check for any missed calls.  I had forgotten about what happened the previous night, but when my phone told me that I had 17 messages, it all came flooding back to me.  I gulped, deciding to look at the messages before deleting my internet history.

Saturday; 11:58 pm  Sherlock:  Am I to take your sudden leave of absence as proof that I was correct?

Sunday; 12:58 am Sherlock:  I should say so, considering it’s been an hour now.

Sunday; 1:58 am Sherlock:  Two hours.

Sunday;  2:58 am Sherlock:  Three hours.

Sunday;  3:58 am Sherlock:  Four hours.  I could go on but I’ve long since grown bored of the subject.  Shall I mention now what else I have deduced about you during the time you’ve ignored my messages?
Sherlock:  Well for one thing, you seem to suffer from the paranoia that someone will find you.  It could be due to the fact that you’re under the age of eighteen, and are afraid of hackers getting ahold of your personal information.  A thought that is both reasonable and unreasonable at the same time, considering that while it is possible that one would do such a thing to a random person; it is far more likely that it would only happen if you were of some importance.
Sherlock:  Or it could be because you are trying to be a rebellious teenager and are going against your parents rule of “don’t talk to strangers”, but you are failing at this and hence you are still afraid of getting in trouble if you are caught.

Sunday;  4:03  am Sherlock:  Which brings me to my next theory about you, in which you arrerw

Sunday;  4:37  am Sherlock: Miriam?  It’s John again; I got my phone back.

Sunday; 4:40 am Sherlock:  Miriam?  He’s scared you off, hasn’t he?
Sherlock: Actually, what am I thinking?  You’ve probably gone to sleep by now, haven’t you?

Sunday;  4:41 am Sherlock:  Sorry for disturbing you, I’ll try again at a more reasonable hour.  Goodnight, Miriam.

Sunday;  8:30 am Sherlock:  Miriam?  It’s John.  I just thought I’d try to reach you before the day got too hectic.
Sherlock:  Listen, about what Sherlock told you last night. I know he can come off as a bit… eccentric, But he’s actually a decent man.  You just have to get past the fact that he can figure out invasively accurate information about you, he treats everyone else like they’re idiots, and you really are determined to ignore me, aren’t you?
Sherlock:  If you want an apology from him, trust me; you’re not going to get it.

Sunday; 8:37 amSherlock:  Alright, don’t reply.  He was trying to scare you off, you know; so you’re pretty much just doing what he wants.

Sunday; 8:43 amSherlock:  Well, if you ever decide that you might want to talk again; I’ll be waiting.

I stared at the messages for a very long time.  The more I stared at them, the more I believed that they were in fact the real John and Sherlock.  But my mind kept telling me that it was impossible.  I huffed, deleting the messages and erasing my internet history, scanning for viruses the whole time.  My computer came up with nothing; so I convinced myself that the website could very well be safe.  I took a deep breath and got out of bed, deciding to wait a while before trying to continue the conversation.  I decided not to bother changing out of my pajamas, seeing as I would not be going anywhere that day.  They were comfortable anyway, with simple pants and a button-up shirt that had the same pattern.  I left the room and freshened up before heading to the kitchen.  My mother and father were making breakfast together, so I grabbed a book from the shelf and began to read while waiting for them to be done.

           “Well, good morning, Sleepyhead.”  My dad greeted, having noticed me.  “We’re almost done with breakfast.”

           “Morning.”  I mumbled, only having just noticed that I had grabbed one of my many Sherlock Holmes stories.  I huffed out a laugh and put it aside, deciding to watch my parents cook instead.  I was an only child, and it was days like these that I was glad of that.  Being seventeen years of age, I would no doubt have been the oldest had there been more children; which would lead to having to resolve their constant arguments and havoc.  Plus, now I got my parents all to myself.  I helped them set the table, and chose not to mention what happened last night involving the role-players, if that is what they were.
After finishing breakfast, Mom and Dad decided to go out to watch a movie, so I was left alone to stare at my phone for three hours, deciding if I wanted to reply or not.  Finally, as the clock struck noon, I decided that I would risk it.  It was a dumb decision, to be sure; but I had to grow up eventually.  I made myself a cup of tea to calm down, and I opened up the tab again.  I took a sip of the tea, letting the soft peppermint trickle down my throat.  I then grabbed the phone and began to type.

You: Hello again.

A pause, and I began to imagine that they were pretending to be on a case again.  Perhaps I had messaged them at a bad time.  I closed the phone and reached for my tea again, taking another sip as I heard a beep.  I quickly unlocked my phone again, looking at the message.

Sherlock:  Miriam!  Glad to see you’re still willing to speak to me.
I smiled, trying to calm my nerves as I decided to be casual with this conversation.

You:  Yes well, I may have overacted a bit last night.  But I think I am ok now.  In a way I kind of asked for it, so it’s not entirely his fault.

Sherlock:  I see.  Well, as long as it’s all settled, where were we before Sherlock interrupted?

You:  We were sharing small bits of information on ourselves; but to be honest, I’d rather have a normal conversation. If you want to know about me, ask Sherlock.

Sherlock:  Ha.  That bad, was he?  But alright, what would you like to talk about?

You:  Well, how is your Sunday so far?

Sherlock:  It’s actually remarkably normal today.  I’m sitting outside a pub having a drink right now; Sherlock is at the flat, probably still trying to convince Mrs. Hudson that he does in fact need a full set of Samurai armor in the bathroom.

I nearly chocked on my tea as I read the message.

You:  What!?

Sherlock:  Something about chemicals revealing something at a certain temperature; don’t ask.
I laughed uproariously for a few minutes, trying to think of what Sherlock could possibly be searching for.

Sherlock:  I take it from your silence that you’re probably laughing.

You:  You have no idea!

Sherlock:  It’s only funny if you’re not the one who has to actually use that bathroom.  I swear, it’s like it’s staring at me, but Sherlock refuses to move it.

You:  Well I’m sorry to hear that.  Maybe he’ll figure out what he needs to by the end of the day; then you can get rid of it.

Sherlock:  I hope so.  How is your Sunday going?

You:  After a bit of a late start, today seems to be going rather well.  I’m just having some chamomile tea while watching the birds eat outside.

Sherlock:  Now that sounds peaceful.

You:  But too peaceful for you, right?

Sherlock:  Heh.  Yes, too peaceful for me.  I probably wouldn’t be able to stand it for very long.

You:  To be honest John, while it is nice; I’ve noticed that I’m getting tired of it myself.

Sherlock:  Really?

You:  Yes.  I guess after years of reading stories of adventure; I’ve come to wish for an adventure of my own.

Sherlock:  Well believe me when I say that it’s a lot more fun to read about an adventure than to actually be in one.

Sherlock:  I beg to differ, as it can be both exciting and perplexing.  Of course, that depends on what you determine to be an adventure.

Sherlock:  Sherlock, are you on my laptop again?

Sherlock:  Remind me to teach you the proper way to create a password sometime.

Sherlock:  For goodness sakes, Sherlock; I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t use my laptop again.

Sherlock:  And I told you not to trust someone you met on the internet.  It could be Moriarty for all you know.

Sherlock:  She’s not Moriarty, and I thought I told you that I didn’t want  you talking to her anymore.

Sherlock:  I don’t seem to recall that part of the conversation. And what makes you think they’re not Moriarty?

Sherlock:  Because… well…  Just because.  Why would Moriarty try to talk to me through this website pretending to be a teenage girl?  And besides, you said yourself that she’s from America, in the south.

Sherlock:  That was judging based on their manner of speaking; which could very well be faked.

You:  You guys?  I am still here you know.  And this is getting kind of confusing, seeing as I’m reading both of you as ‘Sherlock’.  Can one of you type in bold or something?

Sherlock:  Only if you agree to meet with us to reveal your true identity.

Sherlock: Sherlock, if she—Sorry.  Sherlock, if she really does live in America then she can’t very well come and visit us, now can she?

Sherlock:  Fine, we’ll just have to go and visit ‘her’ then.

Sherlock: What?

You: What?

Sherlock:  John, meet me at the airport in an hour.

Sherlock: Do we have to go right this minute? I still haven’t finished my drink.

You: What?

Sherlock:  Yes, now come on.  And as for you, ‘Miriam’.  You had better hope your story pans out.

Sherlock: Stop threatening her.  And get off of my laptop.

You:  What?

Sherlock: Sorry, Miriam.  But I’m afraid he’s made up his mind.  I guess I’ll be seeing you soon then.  Goodbye for now.

You: …………  What just happened?
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:iconmikuplz::iconsaysplz: Thanks to :iconlilydavinci: for helping me with this story!
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