Chapter Twenty-Four

I've decided that I will record the next chapter's events mysteriously, but at the time in my life, things were damn mysterious.

Scottie was being grounded for stealing a pack of markers from a boy in his class, and then lying about it.  He sulked in his room.

Sherlock was being grouchy for some reason.  He wouldn't talk to me as freely as he usually did, and he snorted/grunted/moaned hysterically all day long.  I also noticed the pattern in his hair was a little off, like he was neglecting it.

Scottie's wavy blonde hair was getting longer and sat on his neck with a woosh thing near the front.  His hair was also getting darker like dirty blonde by the time he was six-and-a-half.

"I can sense danger," Sherlock muttered once.  I asked him what he meant, but he ignored me.

At that point, a bang sounded from above us.  "Unfair!" was shouted after that.

I rolled my eyes.  Scottie was still going to be grounded, no matter how much he protested and fussed about it.

"Lydia," Sherlock muttered again.  "Ly-di-a." His voice rang at every syllable.

"John? I need a drink of water!"  Scottie pleaded through the ceiling.

"Too bad!" I yelled back.  Then, he stomped.

I sat down, rubbed my neck, and closed my eyes.  I needed sleep, but my brain was turned up too much for that to happen.  Sherlock was making grunting noises, again, and I leaned my head on the arm of the chair.

"Can't you stop grunting?" I asked when I was finally fed up with it all.  "What is your problem? Do you have some secret locked-room case I don't know about?"

Sherlock put his hands to his chin.  "Lydia's in trouble," he said.

"How do you know that?" It was like I could punch myself in the eye.  Duh.  Lydia has been in danger since the day we met her, almost seven years ago.  Sherlock waved my question away like it was stupid, and I couldn't blame him.

"I can feel the danger," Sherlock said.  "I've never been so sure of it."

I shook my head.  Now, he was becoming a bloodhound.

I heard Scottie open his door, and stomp down the stairs.  "No.  You are grounded.  Go back upstairs."

Scottie cocked his head on one side.  "But I want to be down here with you."

"No.  Go-"

"Let him."  Sherlock had said this, finally facing me.

"I'm not gonna let him! He's supposed to be grounded!"

"Let.  Him."  Sherlock took his eyes off of me and looked at the wall, again.

I sighed.  I mentioned Scottie to come sit with me.  "Listen, Scottie.  Do you understand why you are being grounded?"

Scottie shrugged.  "I stole Tommy's markers."

"But," I continued.  "You also lied about it.  Lying about a crime gets you in even more trouble than the crime itself.  Remember that."  I patted his head.  "You can stay down here with us, but I hope you learned your lesson."

Scottie nodded his head.  "Oh, yes I did."

All of a sudden, the door downstairs flew open.  In alarm, I scootched closer to Sherlock.  I told Scottie to go to bed as Sherlock went to see who it was.

He yelled from the top of the stairs, he had not gone down yet, "No one-"

As Sherlock said this, a medium sized man, probably taller than me, but not as tall as Sherlock, casually walked through the door with his hands folded behind his back.  His hair was black like a raven, slicked back with precise detail. 

My eyes widened and I felt my mouth drop open.  I looked to Sherlock, but he just stared.

All was silent and still, and the only sound was the wind blowing from the door, still wide open.  He came in, and leaned against the wall, giving us a very "I Just Don't Give A Fuck Why The Hell I'm Even Here Right Now" face.  I gulped as Jim Moriarty, clutching an apple, opened his mouth.

"Surprise, bitch."