“Why do we need to go there?” Livy yelled to Sherlock as he sprinted out of her room down the stairs.
“No time to explain, Olivia! Now move it!”
Livy quickly threw her hot pink sweatshirt back on with her black and white polka dot rain boots. Frantic she’d lose the British man, she looked around for Sherlock’s book. Finding it under her fluffy white blanket, she threw it into her messenger bag, hoisted the bag over her head and ran after him.
As she rounded the corner to the stairs, she nearly squashed the Brit.
“Oh, jeez,” she said when her face smashed into his back. “What’s wrong, Sherlock?” She walked around to his front. His face was stern, concentrating on the window above the door. The rain was pouring in buckets now, you could barely see out the window.
“I can’t go outside,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Of all the idiotic things in the world!” Sherlock threw his hands in the air.
“Why can’t you go outside?”
Sherlock huffed. “WordSpeaker or not, in your realm I am bound to my story, which is written in ink. Ink and water do not mix well.”
Livy reached for the book in her messenger bag. Looking at the new cover, she flipped open the crisp pages, the blank spaces reminding her of her mission. “What happens if you get wet?”
“What happens to a book when it gets wet?” He replied sarcastically.
Livy sucked in her lips and nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll have to send you back and carry you to the library and when we get there, I’ll speak you back out.”
Sherlock looked at her with a face that completely surprised her. One that held an emotion she never thought Sherlock Holmes would possess: admiration.
“Olivia, what a brilliant idea!” He jumped, clapping his hands once. “Excellent! Now how is it done?”
She knew her face held utter confusion once more because Sherlock was giving her the “why do you not know this” look again.
“You don’t know?”
“Of course I don’t know!” She snapped back. “I only just found out about all this stuff.” She motioned to him.
“There’s no need to dramatize, Olivia. I’m sure we can figure it out. We just need to think.”
Livy and Sherlock stood in front of the stairs for a few moments before an idea dawned. “I got it,” she said, snapping her fingers. “In order for me to speak you out of the book, I had to have the book opened and speak as if you were right here with me, right?”
“I suppose,” Sherlock replied, looking at her skeptically.
“Well, what if I did the same thing, but in reverse.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
“You know,” she continued, “like, I talk to you, but instead of wanting you here with me, I want you to back to your story.”
Sherlock pursed his lips, filing through the information. “Yes,” he said. “That might work. Okay, let’s try it.”
Livy took in a deep breath then opened the book. She assumed it didn’t matter where she opened it; the whole book was about him. “Sherlock, go back to your story.” They both looked at the book. There was no glow or colored lights. It was just a book. Livy huffed.
“It didn’t work,” Sherlock said dryly.
“Yes, I know it didn’t work, Sherlock.” Livy closed the book frustrated and stared at the front cover. How was she going to get Sherlock back in?
“You have to mean it.”
She snapped her head up to see the tall British man staring down at her. “What?”
“You have to mean it,” he repeated. “You wanted with all your heart for me to come to life, so I did. So you need to want with all your heart for me to go back.”
Livy frowned. “But it’s so great that you’re here. How can I make myself want you to go back?”
“Oh, that’s easy. I just need to upset you. Don’t worry, I’ll only be describing things that are obvious.”
Livy raised an eyebrow. This didn’t sound good.
“First off, let’s start with that so called friend of yours, Matthew, is it?”
Livy gasped. “How did you—”
“Please Olivia, I’m trying to upset you. I can’t have you interrupting my observations with your layman remarks. Now Matthew, I couldn’t think of a worse character for you. I mean even Darcy would be better than him. He’s all talk, no action and his family life isn’t much better.”
“That’s not his fault,” Livy jumped in. “He didn’t have a choice, he had to leave.”
“Yes, well, there are always other options with that sort of thing.”
“What do you mean other options?” Livy exclaimed, feeling her heart beating faster. “He would be dead if he didn’t leave.” She then saw Sherlock looking at her with a satisfied smirk.
Holding on to her anger, she quickly grabbed the book and flipped it open. “Go back to your story, Sherlock,” she growled. In an instant, the book began to glow. Like a vacuum sucking up unwanted dirt, the book sucked Sherlock back into the story. As soon as the last colored bits were in the text, she slammed the book shut and shoved it into her bag.
Livy sat on the top step, digging her palms into her eyes. Sherlock had done a great job getting her upset. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. How had he known about Matt? She knew he was brilliant, but was her heart really on her sleeve where he could read it? She groaned. She didn’t want to be that dumb lovesick protagonist that got their heartbroken in the end.
Deciding to ignore the thought, she popped up and raced down the stairs. Flinging open the door, the wet wind whipped the loose strands of her hair back and forth. She quickly undid her bun and stuffed her curls into the hot pink hood.
“Stay dry, Sherlock,” she said as she put her head down and raced out of the house. When she looked up briefly, she saw the outline of a big red truck in her driveway. Ugh, they’re back, she thought to herself as she ran down the sidewalk towards the library.
Why couldn’t her mom act like a normal mom and not a stupid teenager? Livy tucked her chin into her chest. Something had to have gone wrong when she was born. Maybe her and her mom had switched personalities, like a Freaky Friday sort of thing. All her life, Livy had acted more like an adult, while her mom acted like the eighteen year old.
Livy sighed and looked up once more, her shoulders relaxing when she saw the grey stone steps of her second home. She raced up the steps and tugged at the first door. She felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. It was locked. She groaned. How could she have been so dumb? She knew the library closed at nine!
Her messenger bag jumped against her leg. Startled, Livy looked down to see a glow coming from the creases in her bag. Opening the flap carefully, she pulled the glowing book out. It shook violently in her hands. She looked around. The steps were underneath an overhang and, while it was a little wet, it wasn’t too bad. Hoping she wasn’t wrong, Livy opened the book. “I need your help, Sherlock.” Just as before, the book spewed colored lights, forming her favorite British man.
“Curse that Irene Adler!” Sherlock scowled. Livy gave him a questioning look. “Ah, good you got my message.”
“What message?”
“That I wanted to be released from the book. You see, before you spoke me back into the story, I calculated the approximate time in which we would arrive at the library. Thus when the time came, I notified you that I wanted to be released.” He shrugged, straightened his coat then headed towards the locked doors. Livy watched him study the door then crouch down to study the lock.
“Are you alright?” Sherlock said, not taking his focus off the lock.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Livy replied, walking until she stood next to him.
Sherlock jiggled the handle and the door swung in. “Ah, you see, every lock can be unlocked.” He turned and looked at her. “Olivia, I’m not very good at this, sentiment and all, but I want you to know I only said those things about your Matt to rile you. I do apologize.”
Livy blinked three times then remembered to breath. Her favorite literary character was not only alive and speaking to her, but had just apologized for being a jerk. She felt a silly smile brimming her lips. “It’s no problem, Sherlock.” Sherlock nodded then swiftly turned and headed into the library. “Hey wait, how did you get the book to glow?”
Sherlock paused. Not turning around to face her, he spoke, “I thought really hard.” He then preceded to walk into the library.
Livy furrowed her eyebrows. Was that another snarky comment? Or was he being serious? She rolled her eyes and walked towards the door.
In a few short hours, her comfortable sanctuary had transformed into an eerie dungeon. Darkness filled every crevice except for the gloomy, wet moonlight shining through the peaked windows. Silence screamed louder than ever before.
Livy held her breath as she stepped through the threshold, into the wasteland. Still clutching Sherlock’s book, she looked around. Where had he gone? “Sherlock,” she whispered. Her rain boots squeaked softly as she took another step. “Sherlock,” she tried again. Where was that impossible British man? She took a few more steps until she reached her favorite spot. Only hours ago, she sat here, drowning in her woes of self-pity. She laughed at herself. If only she had known how quickly her world would change. She was about to head towards the nearest shelf when a hand clamped her shoulder.
She screamed, flinging the almost six hundred page book behind her at the owner. She heard a large thud then an “Ow, jeez.” She turned around to see Matt standing in the moonlight of the window, rubbing his head, ruffling his perfectly swooped hair. The heat began to rush to her face, her heart pounding at an impossible speed.
“Oh, hi,” she said meekly.
“Yea, hey,” he said gruffly, bending down to pick up the literary weapon. “What are you doing here, Livy?”
She startled at his stern tone. Matt was hardly ever stern, especially not with her. She studied him as he stood in the moonlight. His back was hunched, his shoulders hung. His clothes wrinkled, looking like they were about to sprout holes any minute.
“I—uh,” she stammered over her words. She couldn’t tell him about what had happened to her in the past few hours. He would never believe her! A thought then dawned on her. What if he was mad about her smashing Peyton’s foot with an encyclopedia? Livy bit bottom lip. And where did Sherlock go? She couldn’t let Matt see him.
Seeing her confused face, Matt softened his. “You know you can’t be here after hours, Liv.” Then he smiled. “Even if you absolutely have to have the next book in the series.”
Livy smirked a little, then dropped it. “What are you doing here? It’s way past closing hours. You should be home.” Or with Peyton, she thought grimly.
Matthew dropped his smile. “Well after what happened in the library earlier, Peyton ran to the nail salon to get her toes fixed.” He looked at her with a sideways glance. “Apparently her ‘Too Hot Too Handle’ nail polish was chipped and she couldn’t be seen so disgraced.”
Livy snorted, trying to keep her laugh in.
“It’s not funny, Livy,” Matt said, trying to subdue a smirk growing on his lips.
Livy busted out laughing, breaking Matt into laughter with her. Once the laughter had subsided, she brought her question back up. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
Matt’s face turned serious once more. He looked out the window then sighed, looking at his feet. He brought his right hand up and rubbed his neck. Livy held her breath as she admired his attractive form in the moonlight. “I got kicked out of my place.”
She quickly snapped out of her daydream. “What?”
He looked up at her, his eyes more tired now than they had ever been. “I couldn’t make this month’s rent, so, yea,” he said with a light chuckle at the end, hoping it wouldn’t sound as bad. His head hung once again.
“Matt, why didn’t you tell me?” She said, taking one step forward in her squishy boots. He immediately snapped his head up, his eyes hard.
“Because I don’t need help,” he growled. Her eyes went wide and she took a step back. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Livy, things are just really tough for me right now. For the meantime, the boss said I could stay here until I can find another job to pay for rent.”
She was about to offer comforting words, when she heard a crashing sound from around the corner. Matthew spun around and began walking swiftly towards the noise.
Livy took in a deep breath. Sherlock! She ran after Matt, her short legs having to work twice as hard to catch up with his long ones.
“Matt, wait!” she cried. If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it and kept his quick pace.
When he rounded one of the shelves, Matt stopped dead in his tracks. Livy soon caught up to him, gasping for air. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worked out. She followed his stunned gaze. There staring at the basement door was Sherlock.
Sensing their presence, Sherlock turned. “Olivia, quite good, I have found what we are looking for.”
“Who are you?” Matt demanded, immediately pulling Livy behind him. Her heart leapt at his desire to protect her.
Sherlock gave an annoying glance towards Matt then looked to Livy. “Olivia, we don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“Right,” she said, moving from behind Matt. “Uh, Matt, this is—”
“Sher—” Sherlock began.
“Sherry! My good friend Sherry, who just came in from England!” Livy smiled wide. Matt gave her an unconvinced look as Sherlock rolled his eyes.
“Oh, right,” Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Sherry…Homes, nice to meet you, Matthew.”
“How do you know my name?” Matthew glared at the British man.
“I told him about you!” Livy jumped in, cutting of Sherlock who was getting more agitated by the second. “I wanted him to meet my best friend.” She mentally kicked herself for putting herself in the friend zone, but she had no choice.
“Yes, all she ever does is talk about you,” Sherlock added, turning back to the door. Matthew gave her a surprised look, as if it was absurd she would talk about him to anyone. Was he really that thick? If it wasn’t night time, Livy knew both men would have seen her face turn bright red.
“Well, you still can’t be here,” Matthew said, not taking his eyes off Sherlock. Livy felt a thick tension beginning to arise.
“Right,” she mumbled. “We’ll be on our way.” She began to walk towards Sherlock.
“No, we won’t,” Sherlock said calmly. “Olivia, we must get to the basement of this building. That is where the VasíleioBiblios is located! I just can’t seem to get this door opened.” Sherlock glared at the door for insulting his intelligence.
“Livy, what’s going on?” Matt said. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Livy held her breath. Was this that critical moment all protagonists went through? Where they spill their inner most feelings to the person they love, hoping they feel the same? Livy looked back at Matt. No, this wasn’t that moment. This was the moment where she tells her most trusted friend what’s really going on.
She took a deep breath and hung her head to her chest. “Matthew Rides, meet Sherlock Holmes.” She motioned towards Sherlock, not willing to meet either of their gazes.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Livy, I know you love books, but this is absurd.”
Before Livy could say anything, she heard Sherlock walk towards her. “There’s nothing absurd about it, Matthew. Olivia has a wonderful gift. One that should not be mocked.” Livy looked up at the scorn in Sherlock’s voice.
Matthew looked from Livy to Sherlock back to Livy. “Ok, I’ll play along. If you’re really Sherlock Holmes, what do you know about me?”
“Matt, no,” Livy began. She knew this would end in disaster.
“Please, Olivia, if Matthew wants proof, he’ll have it.” Sherlock walked towards Matthew and began circling him like a vulture.
Livy sucked in her breath. She didn’t know if she could handle the sudden rise in testosterone lurking in the air.
“Your name is Matthew Ezekiel Rides. You are the youngest of three siblings, the older two having been significantly older than you.”
Livy saw Matt cringe at the mention of his older siblings. She prayed Sherlock wouldn’t mention his parents.
Still circling, Sherlock continued, “You are nineteen years old, six feet, one and a half inches. You have broken your right wrist four times due to reckless skating and your left wrist twice.” Matthew’ eyes grew wide as Sherlock spoke.
“You have been friends with Olivia for approximately four years, but never wanting to go beyond friendship for fear of rejection. You think you aren’t good enough for her because of your past.”
“Sherlock!” Livy gasped, although she had always wondered why Matt never pursued her. He always acted like he enjoyed being around her, asking about her books and what she was reading next. But when they got closer, he always found a new girlfriend. That’s how Peyton came into the picture.
“That’s also why you read everything she reads. So, that when you talk to her you can strike up conversation about one of her books instead of how you really feel about her.”
“Sherlock, that’s enough,” she demanded. She looked over at Matthew, who was stunned to stone. She glared at Sherlock, who had walked back to studying the door. “Matt?” She said walking towards him. “Matt, are you okay?” When she touched his arm, he broke of his trance, staring down at her with his piercing blue eyes.
“He’s right,” Matt whispered.
“About what?” She whispered back, her heart beginning to race once more.
“Everything.” Matt took a step toward her.
Livy gulped. Was this the part where the protagonist and her love interest share their first kiss? She tried to steady her breaths. She had imagined this moment so many times. Matt coming to her, swooping her in his arms and kissing her passionately until she fainted. Of course she was dressed like a fair maiden and he a knight. She looked down at her soaked hot pink sweatshirt and blue fleece pants with polka dot rain boots combo. Well, she wasn’t a fair maiden, but that didn’t matter. As she anticipated his long arms enveloping her, she didn’t expect to be jerked away from the scene.
“We don’t have time for faerie tale fantasies, Olivia!” Sherlock said, pulling her away from Matthew.
“But—” she stammered. She was so close!
“Don’t worry,” Sherlock shook his head annoyed, “he’s a part of your story.”
Livy stopped mid-step. “What? How do you know?”
Sherlock smirked and turned to the door. He placed one hand on it, each slender finger spread out from one another. The door began to glow a bright white like the book had, then it faded to a green then disappeared.
“Blast!” Sherlock huffed. “It’s enchanted.”
Livy stared at the door. She had probably walked past it a million times. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She turned around to see Matthew standing inches away from her.
“I always wondered…” he began, letting his sentence trail away. Sherlock snapped his neck towards him.
“Wondered what, Matthew? If there is something in that dull brain of yours, you need to share it now.”
Livy made a face at Sherlock. Why was he being so cruel to Matt? Sure, he insulted anyone who didn’t have his intelligence, which was everyone, but he usually used a dry tone. With Matthew his voice was cruel and harsh.
“Wait here,” he said. In a moment he was gone, sprinting down the dark shelves.
Livy turned to Sherlock. “What was that about?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea to what you mean,” he replied.
“You know what. Why are you taking personal jabs at Matt?”
“I was merely proving my case, as any good detective would. He wanted proof and I gave it to him.”
“You didn’t need to be so nasty about it though.”
Sherlock stared down at her. “Olivia, there are things you do not yet understand, but you are under my protection. I cannot let you get carried away on another adventure before your first one is complete.”
Livy blinked three times, confused.
“Trust what I am telling you and know that I only want what’s best, but if you go trifling with idiotic romances when your story is one of adventure, then there’s nothing I can do.”
“What are you talking about?” But before she got her answer, she heard footsteps quickly approaching them.
“Here,” Matthew said, gasping for air as he held out a vintage English iron key.
Sherlock quickly snatched the key out of his hand and held it to the moonlight. The intricate swirls on the top of the key glistened in the light. “Impossible, I haven’t seen one of these in decades.” He turned and eyed Matthew suspiciously. “Where did you get this?”
Matthew shrugged. “My boss always keeps this in his coat pocket. One day, when it wasn’t there, he completely freaked. He tore almost every book looking for it.”
“Yes,” Sherlock peered at the key again. “A librarian, of course.” He turned to Matthew. “Very good, Matthew. You have proven yourself not as worthless as I once thought.”
“Sherlock, what is that?” Livy asked.
Sherlock flipped the key in the air, caught it then jabbed it into the door. The door bubbled as if it were a glass of water just disturbed by a straw. He swiftly turned the key, causing the door to glow a bright white, then a faint blue. With a quick push it sprung open.
Sherlock sighed, pleased at his work. “Mythoskleidí, I didn’t think there were any left.” He spun to face Livy and Matthew, who stared wide eyed at the open door. “This, dear Olivia, is a key.”
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Livy frowned.
“All in good time,” Sherlock said, walking into the shadowed doorway. Livy began to follow, when she was pulled back.
“Liv, what’s really going on?”
She turned around to see Matthew gripping her hand firmly, his face lined with worry. She smiled. She knew what part of the story this was. Tightening her grip on his hand, she pulled him towards the door with her. “I’ll tell you on the way.”
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