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Literature Text
"WATSON! WATSON COME BACK! WATSON!" Sherlock ran out of the thick gardens, jumping over the gate, circling around and around until he fell to his knees on the ground. He looked away only for a moment- not even a moment, maybe a few mere seconds and he still managed to lose her.
'No, no this can't be happening. I can't lose her. I can't let this happen again.' Sherlock thought to himself silently. He clutched the note, the scent of her light perfume still etched to the paper. He was a certified wreck and he was angry at the entire world, but more so at himself for letting her slip through his fingers. A high functioning sociopath that is currently the angriest person both at and in the world is not the best thing to have about the area, where residents inhabit.
For twenty minutes, Sherlock had a white hot rage running through his veins. His Watson was missing from him, yet again, and he had almost no way to get her back, except for some stupid clue that would only allow the sadist running it more pleasure. He'd already lost her once and he vowed he would never do it again.
You see, though Watson would seldom remember that faithful summer night it had always been Sherlock's favorite. The two were about the age of 8 years and Watson was in London for the summer visiting her relatives. She met Sherlock in a park one afternoon and they became fast friends. A bond was formed between them that day and into the evening of their friendship. They played in the same park they met everyday until her summer vacation was over. The night she left, she met with him one last time and they made a promise to find each other again when they were older so that they may continue their friendship, perhaps even making it something more.
Sherlock, when he came to America, had begun to lose faith that they'd ever cross paths again and was rewarded with his seeing her that first day. She looked absolutely stunning then, ever if she didn't remember who he was. the point remained that he had just gotten her back and was not about to let her go again. he got up and turned himself around to face the great lake. he squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, and spotted the Marina to his right.
He walked down the sloping hill to the docks, peering out to the horizon in search for any ships or boats out for an evening sail. When he arrived to the empty docks, there was a bright yellow paper int he shape of an arrow, pointing towards the boat house. Sherlock jumped the fence and entered though the surprisingly unlocked door. He looked around, sifting through papers old and new, in search for a box that could potentially hold any sort of key.
After five minutes without any such luck, Sherlock took a seat and put his fingers to his mouth, an old nervous habit he'd never grown out of. He stared at the window overlooking the piers and thought of something so ridiculous it could never work. He tapped on the top of the desk, grabbed a flashlight, and knelt down under it. Carefully, he moved the bottom of the desk out to find a small key attached to the desk. He dug his fingers under the key and secured a tight hold of it and ripped it off. Just as carefully he moved the bottom of the desk back and got out from underneath, examining the key under the flashlight.
He turned the key twice over in his hand to find small markings in it, resembling numbers. He looks closer to find the key read "04242". He walked out of the small office and onto the pier, overlooking the boats and the posts and the abandoned buoys. The note said to go through every single one of the locks. He had assumed there'd be individual locks to try, but he only needed one. He walked around the boats, until he came upon one with a rather unique name. "The Answer^2". This was where he needed to be. He'd read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy more than once, and he forever remember that the answer was 42. And 42 squared could be seen as 42*42, which could be seen as 4242. He smiled at his cleverness and climbed aboard the boat. But there was a problem. When he stepped on the boat, it swayed to either side. no matter how he tried to balance it out, it never worked and he nearly ended up in the bay.
He'd caused so much noise, in fact, that he ended up drawing the attention of one of the few security guards. 'Now I know why it said not to lose her...' he thought. The security guard came over as Sherlock exited the boat.
"What do you think you're doing out here this late at night young man!" The guard shouted, in a voice Sherlock vaguely recognized. "Well?" he said again.
Sherlock squinted through the blinding light of the guard's flashlight and could make out the outline of the guard's face. "Anderson?"
"Sherlock?" He said in reply. Suddenly, it occurred to Sherlock what had to be done.
"Anderson, for once you're going to be very useful." Sherlock said, a smug grin reaching across his face.
'No, no this can't be happening. I can't lose her. I can't let this happen again.' Sherlock thought to himself silently. He clutched the note, the scent of her light perfume still etched to the paper. He was a certified wreck and he was angry at the entire world, but more so at himself for letting her slip through his fingers. A high functioning sociopath that is currently the angriest person both at and in the world is not the best thing to have about the area, where residents inhabit.
For twenty minutes, Sherlock had a white hot rage running through his veins. His Watson was missing from him, yet again, and he had almost no way to get her back, except for some stupid clue that would only allow the sadist running it more pleasure. He'd already lost her once and he vowed he would never do it again.
You see, though Watson would seldom remember that faithful summer night it had always been Sherlock's favorite. The two were about the age of 8 years and Watson was in London for the summer visiting her relatives. She met Sherlock in a park one afternoon and they became fast friends. A bond was formed between them that day and into the evening of their friendship. They played in the same park they met everyday until her summer vacation was over. The night she left, she met with him one last time and they made a promise to find each other again when they were older so that they may continue their friendship, perhaps even making it something more.
Sherlock, when he came to America, had begun to lose faith that they'd ever cross paths again and was rewarded with his seeing her that first day. She looked absolutely stunning then, ever if she didn't remember who he was. the point remained that he had just gotten her back and was not about to let her go again. he got up and turned himself around to face the great lake. he squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, and spotted the Marina to his right.
He walked down the sloping hill to the docks, peering out to the horizon in search for any ships or boats out for an evening sail. When he arrived to the empty docks, there was a bright yellow paper int he shape of an arrow, pointing towards the boat house. Sherlock jumped the fence and entered though the surprisingly unlocked door. He looked around, sifting through papers old and new, in search for a box that could potentially hold any sort of key.
After five minutes without any such luck, Sherlock took a seat and put his fingers to his mouth, an old nervous habit he'd never grown out of. He stared at the window overlooking the piers and thought of something so ridiculous it could never work. He tapped on the top of the desk, grabbed a flashlight, and knelt down under it. Carefully, he moved the bottom of the desk out to find a small key attached to the desk. He dug his fingers under the key and secured a tight hold of it and ripped it off. Just as carefully he moved the bottom of the desk back and got out from underneath, examining the key under the flashlight.
He turned the key twice over in his hand to find small markings in it, resembling numbers. He looks closer to find the key read "04242". He walked out of the small office and onto the pier, overlooking the boats and the posts and the abandoned buoys. The note said to go through every single one of the locks. He had assumed there'd be individual locks to try, but he only needed one. He walked around the boats, until he came upon one with a rather unique name. "The Answer^2". This was where he needed to be. He'd read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy more than once, and he forever remember that the answer was 42. And 42 squared could be seen as 42*42, which could be seen as 4242. He smiled at his cleverness and climbed aboard the boat. But there was a problem. When he stepped on the boat, it swayed to either side. no matter how he tried to balance it out, it never worked and he nearly ended up in the bay.
He'd caused so much noise, in fact, that he ended up drawing the attention of one of the few security guards. 'Now I know why it said not to lose her...' he thought. The security guard came over as Sherlock exited the boat.
"What do you think you're doing out here this late at night young man!" The guard shouted, in a voice Sherlock vaguely recognized. "Well?" he said again.
Sherlock squinted through the blinding light of the guard's flashlight and could make out the outline of the guard's face. "Anderson?"
"Sherlock?" He said in reply. Suddenly, it occurred to Sherlock what had to be done.
"Anderson, for once you're going to be very useful." Sherlock said, a smug grin reaching across his face.
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Previously
“I love you” you mouth to him before you let your eyes fall closed.
---
[Sherlock’s POV]
2 hours had already passed since Sherlock had brought (f/n) to the hospital when john arrived. “Oh god, oh god what happened?!” john demanded
“John it was Moriarty… it was my fault I knew he was going to try something and I let her out of my sight and… and” Sherlock’s voice cracks slightly.
“I knew I shouldn't have brought her into this, I just wanted to protect her from everything, I just wanted to keep her safe. I’m so stupid, I have to find a way to keep her safe.
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(Ah, this has taken me forever but my head ache has finally subsided and I can get back on track with this. Enjoy?)
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No no no. That is a lie Anderson is never useful. No no no.