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 A Tale of Fear

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The Improbable One
helping Molly in the lab
helping Molly in the lab
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Posts : 56
Join date : 2011-01-04
Age : 22
Location : America

PostSubject: A Tale of Fear   Thu Feb 10, 2011 3:38 pm

Sherlock Age:12

Something is in his bed, he can feel it crawling around on his stomach. He doesn't look. He knows what it is. He feels remorse for pissing Mycroft off earlier. He knew it was a bad idea, but at the time, making Mycroft mad was one of the only ways to stop being bored. There's something else in his bed too. And another one. He stares up at the ceiling, breathing hard and trying not to tremble too much. He blinks rapidly and slowly pulls his covers off, exposing the intruder. It meanders slowly up his stomach to his chest and sits there, blinking at him. Another one makes it's way over his leg and rests on his knee, just sitting there. A third scrambles up his hand. He squeezes his eyes shut and resists the urge to scream, that would only alarm them. 'I'm going to kill him.' he thinks before his mind takes over and runs in circles from fear. More of the pests craw up on the sides of his bed and mob his small frame, getting tangled in his curls and sheets.

The next morning

"Sherlock?" Mycroft calls up the stairs, a secret smile inside. That's the last time Sherlock will ever rearrange his things. "Sherlock?" No answer. "Mum, I'm going to get Sherlock up."

"Okay. Make it quick. Breakfast is getting cold." Mycroft sprints up the stairs and eases Sherlock's door open, knowing what will probably be streaking out the door as soon as it opens. Nothing stirs. He directs his gaze to the bed where the figure of his brother lay unmoving. For one moment fear grips his heart, had he killed his brother? 'It's impossible to die from fright.' he thought smiling.

"Sherlock?"

A shaky reply comes from the trembling body, "Shhhh-hhh-hh-h!" It's quiet and scared. Mycroft smiles,

"They can't hurt you." No reply. A hairy leg plants itself on Mycroft's shoe, but he brushes it away with a kick. "Sherlock." No reply. He walks to the edge of the bed and looks into the terrified eyes of his brother. "Sherlock?" He doesn't move but continues to stare at the ceiling. "Sherlock."

"Mycroft? Have you gotten Sherlock yet?" His mother's soft voice floats up the stairs. Mycroft flinches. He's made his brother paralyzed with fear. He's twitching now, look at that. Sherlock lets out a whimper and his eyes start to fill with tears.

"Sherlock?"

"He-el-p me."

"Sherlock."

"Sh-ut up. He-lp me." Sighing, Mycroft plucks the cause of Sherlock's despair off his bed and drops them onto the floor. He's going to have to clean them up later, mother will make sure of it. Once she hears about this... Mycroft shakes his head and gathers his younger brother in his arms. Sherlock clings to his neck and starts to cry.

"Did you sleep?"

"Noooo!" Mycroft rolls his eyes.

"Don't be a baby. Come on." Mycroft carries his brother down the stairs and sets him at the table, preparing himself. A telling off from his mother is sure to follow this stunt.

Sherlock Present Day

I've got to stop being so bloody bored all the time. I stare at the ceiling,

"BORED!" Not helping. John can't hear you, and he hid the gun last week. Again. I know where it is, under the loose floorboard near his bed, but I'm not going to go get it. "BOR- Oh forget it." I sigh loudly, hitting at the wall halfheartedly.

BORED

SH

Might as well. I'm bored as it is.

Sorry Sherlock.

Find something to do.

JW

That's the point John.

I've got nothing to do.

I'm BORED.

SH

-sigh-

JW

Not funny John.

SH

The bathtub drain could use unclogging...

JW

Very funny.

SH

I'm serious.

Fix it by the time I get home or you'll have a very unhappy flatmate when you get home.

JW

No. He did not just... He's like my mother. Sighing I get up from the couch to get the make shift unclogger from the hall closet. Basically it's a twisted hanger with a makeshift hook at the end that reaches down inside the drain and pulls whatever is clogging it, up so you can throw it away. I'm not in the mood for doing chores, but I don't want John to yell at me. He says we're having a movie night, something about watching 'Primeval'. Grudgingly, I make my way to the bathroom and pull back the shower curtain. I look down and shriek at the top of my lungs, throwing my hanger into the tub and cringing in the corner. Spider. Spider in the tub. It's going to eat me!

John, several hours later

I put my key into the lock, turning it only to find that the door is unlocked. Rolling my eyes I push into the flat.

"Sherlock?" No answer. I wonder what's up. "Sherlock?"

"JOHN?" He's shouting from the bathroom, his voice sounds scared and croaky.

"Sherlock? Have you cleaned the drain?"

"JOHN!" his voice is squeaky now. I roll my eyes again and head for the bathroom. Sherlock's cringing in the corner next to the toilet, trying to inch as far back as possible from the tub. He looks up and points to the bathtub frantically. "KILL IT!"

"What the Hell?"

"KILL IT!" He gestures wildly again and turns toward the wall, looking like he's about to cry. "KILL IT!"

"Wha-?"

"STOP ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS AND JUST KILL THE DAMN THING!"

"What is 'the damn thing'?"

"JUST KILL IT!" I peer over the edge of the tub only to smile. It's a silly spider. A bigger one, but small compared to the ones I've seen before.

"It's just a silly spi-"

"JUST KILL IT! STOP TALKING AND KILL IT!"

"Have you been standing here the whole time?"

"KILL IT!"

"YOU HAVE!" I start to laugh. He's been cringing in the corner since he texted me. "I'm just surprised you actually decided to clean out the drain. Really, it's just a little spider, you should be able to kill it yourself."

"KILL THE DAMN THING OR SO HELP ME YOU WILL NOT SLEEP FOR A WEEK!"

"Fine. Fine. Fine! I'm getting it." I go to the kitchen for a glass and coax the spider into the cup. I throw open the window and toss it outside, watching it fall to the ground from two stories up.

"IS IT DEAD?"

"Yes."

"THANK GOD!" He comes out of the kitchen, looking paler than usual, if it's even possible.

"It was a spider."

"Don't. Just. Don't."

"But-"

"DON'T."

"What's the story."

"Do you want me to unclog that drain or not?" I think about it, he wants the TV night so he's willing to do the drain.

"I'll do the drain if you tell me the story and we can have a television night still." He half-smiles.

"Sit." He pushes me onto the couch and turns the armchair to face me. "You want to know the story?"

"Yes."

"When I was younger, I thought it was brilliant when I upset Mycroft, especially when I'm bored."

"You don't think that now?"

"He does something governmental now, and the punishment's harsher, although I do try... Anyway, don't interrupt. One day I decided it would be really smart to mess Mycroft's filing system up and to rearrange his room while he was out. Worst. Idea. Ever. Mycroft didn't say anything, but I wasn't stupid so I knew that he found out and was pretty pissed. That night, when I went to bed, I discovered what he had done. He had unleashed a legion of spiders onto my bed. They were as big as my hand. They crawled over me all night. I couldn't sleep. I was paralyzed with fear. Worst experience of my life. Ever since then spiders, no matter how big or small, freak me out." He looks at the ceiling as if praying, "God, they just-" he shivers.

"How did you get back at him? Because I know you did." This time he smiles, a real smile.
"Mycroft hates snakes. Guess what was waiting for him when he got home."

"A snake?"

"A bed full of snakes. Big ones, small ones. You should have heard him scream." His eyes glaze over as he ponders on the fond memory of his brother. "What are you scared of John?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you dare challenge me, because I will find out."

"It's on."
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