Sunday, September 16, 2012

Loveable Freak Presents: Sherlock Holmes and the Chest of Reality (A Fanfic): Chapter 9

Chapter Nine
The Reflection In The Mirror


    During the search, Sherlock had long since turned back into himself, and had half-dressed back into his uniform. Sure enough, The Chest was not there. He did, however, find a peculiar mirror. He'd sat in front of it for a good hour, staring at it.

  It was not an ordinary mirror, of course. He didn't see the reflection of a half-dressed preteen boy, his legs folded on the ground. His hands together as if in prayer, and looking as if he was deep in thought. In fact, the reflection didn't even match his current state at all.

  Instead, the mirror showed him and John, their proper ages, sitting in what could only be their flat. Lestrade would walk in, saying something inaudible to the reflection Sherlock. The mirror Sherlock would bolt up, and shout something inaudible as well. Then the three men run out. The same scene had played on an endless loop for as long as the young consulting detective had been sitting there.

  “Stare too long and you'll go mad, Mr. Holmes.” A voice said. Sherlock turned away from the mirror and saw none other than Snape.

  “What is this?” Sherlock asked.

  “It's The Mirror of Erised. It shows someone's deepest desire.” The professor said, looking at the mirror.

  Sherlock looked at the professor a little closer. “Of course. Why didn't I see it before? That makes sense.” He could see a sadness on Snape as he looked at the mirror. A longing. “Obviously someone he lost... and loved.”

  “Tell me, Holmes, what do you see?”

  Sherlock blinked. “My friend and I. We're home with another... friend. And I'm not bored.”
  “And by home, I'm sure you don't mean yours and Mycroft's estate?”

  “No sir.”

  “Well, Mr. Holmes, I can tell you what you're no doubt looking for is not here.”

  Sherlock sighed. “I know.” He got up. “By the way, sir. What was her name?” He asked. Snape was silent for a moment.


  Sherlock nodded and headed for the door.

  “And Mr. Holmes, don't ever impersonate me again.”

  “Yes, sir...” Sherlock answered, and exited the room.

  As he descended the stairs, adjusting his clothes in the process, a mob of students and faculty ran up to meet him. Moriarty and Moran led the throng, Moran dragging John alongside him. “There he is!” Moriarty shouted. “There's the one who killed Carl Powers!”

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