Sherlock : A Story Of A Short Story

“Tom,” Booker sighed and struggling to his feet, he moved over to the couch and sat down. “I don’t want to talk about him, I want to know if you’re

John rolls his eyes and starts walking over to untangle the detective. "There's like twenty knots, how did you get yourself into this position Sherlock?"

"I'm afraid so Mrs. Hudson. He hasn't stirred from that spot ever since he got a text from Lestrade, vaguely outlining his worst fear. Which of course for Sherlock is like displaying it in bold."

“Neville Longbottom,” Minerva answered as she entered the room, her eyes downcast. “It’s the first initiative we’ve seen from him in five years.”

“Wait! How did you know what I was thinking!?!” -- colored her tone. ‘Could he be a mind reader?’ Nervously wringing her hands as she inched away.

Sherlock said, “Thank you. And about that problem you’re having with Markel, I’ll tell you this, there’s no cow on the ice.

"Oh really?" KID teased. He just stood there, not moving, his hands in his pockets. Conan wondered why he was still there instead of

Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street had lived alone for quite some time. The girl who lived in the basement had stopped coming home from America, his flatmate had married and moved to the countryside, and dear Mrs. Hudson had died a short time later. Her funeral was the last time Sherlock had seen John Watson, and neither had made any attempt to reconnect. Their days of detective work were far behind them now.

“H-Hi…” Simon squeaked shyly, a pale blush on his otherwise deathly pale cheeks. He held up the newspaper that had the ad for the roommate. The man laughed, turning away for a moment.

Stiles walked over to me as he helped me up "Thanks" I mumble to him as we both looked at the chair that lay on the floor. Stiles went over to it to pick it up.

"No one you have to worry your little head about sweetie." He kisses Billy's forehead and he starts to get really nervous, his pregnancy was very tough because of his age and he was still suffering from postpartum depression. He would have panic attacks anytime he thought of Sherlock and him falling from the rooftop. He gets down on his knees, low on energy from playing with Billy and his panic attack is also taking

Happy he cast his lot to be back on the force, Sherlock got to his feet. “My game is Dominoes. I’m ready when you are to call it a day Cap.”

I pause, considering how much I should tell him. Right after Sherlock put down his phone he ran and didn't stop until we arrived here. At the time I didn't ask for any details, I didn't need to. Looking at his face was enough to know the details weren't pretty. There was a shift in his character, a total change in appearance and in manner, and I recognised that same fear I had seen once before, he's hiding something again. I break away from John, I'm not going to tell him about this yet. Even if I wanted to I can't, there's still too much I don't even understand, too many missing puzzle pieces for it to make any sense. While I feel bad considering John and everything there's too much I don't know, too many secrets and lies to uncover and know the truth

“Most of you have heard, ‘Mr. Blanchard is scary.’ Is that true?” Mr. Blanchard asked.

No, Sherlock wanted to tell him. No, I am not okay. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s awful, but his mind refused to do so with the insistence that, ‘John would leave if he found out,’. “I am fine!” he ended up yelling, “I am perfectly fine!” His words slurred together as his speech grew quicker and quicker as anxiety stabbed into his shoulder blade. “There is nothing wrong with me! I am fine,” Sherlock stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind