Mental Abduction

My life was drawing dull... so I decided to visit him again.

My heart was tugging me in one direction, but my brain was warning me better of it. Nevertheless, I found myself upon the doorstep, of 221b Baker Street fumbling about with the ruffles of my dress.

I heard his voice within. It was so tempting... so soothing... so enticing...

I was curious to discover details of such an interesting conversation. I figured he wasn’t alone. Surely Dr. Watson was in there with him, but I supposed that certainly wouldn’t be a problem. I rose my fist to knock upon the door, but my breath got caught in my throat and I lowered my hand again.

Why was my heart beating so fast?

Why was I so nervous?

I took a deep breath and raised my fist once more, but, the door suddenly flung open before I could knock. I expected to see the kindly Ms. Hudson. Instead, I found myself staring directly into the piercing gaze of Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself. His brow was drawn up tightly under the rim of his deerstalker hat, his thin lips were pursed in deep thought, and his long fingers were settled upon the breast of his frock coat. For a moment, I said absolutely nothing. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Dr. Watson shuffled out onto the step beside us. My eyes dashed over him, quickly observing his curious eyes seated right below his bowler hat, his warm figure wrapped in a neat little black suit, and his welcoming smile that appeared right under his mustache.

“Why, hello,” the doctor said, finally breaking the silence, “Who is your dainty young friend, Holmes?”

“Oh,” Sherlock sighed dismissively, “She would like to come along and follow us on one of our singular adventures.”

“She would?” Dr. Watson asked in surprise.

“I WOULD?” I sputtered involuntarily.

“Of course you would,” Mr. Holmes smirked mischievously.

“How do you know?” I retorted, “What if I called because I had a case of my own for you to solve?”

“You, milady, are not immune to my immense powers of deduction,” he sneered, turning on his heels and starting down the walk,

Dr. Watson raised his eyebrows and swiftly nodded at me before scurrying after his companion. The pair headed off down the street, leaving me standing on the step. Only Watson briefly glanced back at me as he scampered along. Sherlock, however, strode forward in a lanky yet dignified and determined way- indubitably a man with his mind made up. After blinking a few times, my legs finally regained consciousness and carried me down the way behind them.

Before long, I was in their company, going off down an unknown street in London with a medical man and an intellectual lunatic to who knows where. As the autumn sun vanished beneath the heavy fog, so did my self-control. I was under the curious hypnosis of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and there was no going back.