Fridge Arm

The session was about fanfiction, and, although we were given a prompt to continue a scene from a Sherlock fanfiction, I opted to create a new scene using the Sherlock universe. I’d love to continue this and make up a new case…

I slammed the front door and brushed the rain off my coat. The lights were off and an eerie glow surged from the downstairs kitchen.

“Mrs. Watson?” I pushed through into the kitchen. That glow was pulsing from the fridge, and a steady drip-drop reached me. Blood. The fridge—

A severed arm lolled out of the open fridge-door.

“Sherlock…” I accentuated the bass in my voice as I stormed up the stairs. An arm? Seriously? That was going far too far.

“Sherlock.”

He wasn’t in our living room-study area, though a new fountain of files spilled from the edge of the desk and pooled onto the floor beside my chair.

“John…” he mimicked in the exact tone I’d just been using.

His room. I stormed to the door – I’d learnt not to enter uninvited whatever he was doing.

“What the hell, Sherlock?” I yelled through the door. “Forget about eyeballs and teeth – that I can forgive – but an arm? A bloody arm? Fresh. Please do not tell me you—actually, I don’t want to know.”

Sherlock creaked open the door. One hand holding a vial of what I was pretty sure was blood to his eye, he gestured without a care in my direction.

“John,” he boomed, “I am disappointed with your absolute lack of faith in me. In fact, I believe that particular specimen downstairs just may be of use to our new case.”

The End

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