Chapter 2: Sherlock Holmes.

The three men in trench coats approached me with caution. Despite me being outnumbered with flintlock pistols inside their hands, they took my threat very seriously. You would think that I would be happy from them doing so, but I was not. I planned on waiting for them to laugh and mock me once more, so that I could shoot one down and proceed on with the others... but reality can often be disappointing to a man.

They didn't mock me, nor did they laugh at me, instead they formed unreadable poker faces as they all circled around me slowly. I couldn't hide it, I was scared out of my wits, my hand could barley hold my pistol from how it rattled, and I could barely stand from how flimsy my legs had felt. I was about to be perished in such a revolting way by these fools.

"You three gentlemen must be in search for food or water. I am sorry, but I'm all out of that... even the water supply is tainted with sludge, thus, I merely seek to venture out for more rations. I am empty as all else around us." Yes, I was empty as all else, in other words; the people around us who were asleep, and sent away into the dreamworld. They were empty and had no food or water, nor cash on them. I fit in perfectly with their struggles of poverty, so what else could these men want from me?

I was broke, I had no food, I had no good supply of water, only my pride and dignity. Eventually they stopped circling around me as one man laughed. It was the man who driven the car, he chuckled at my desperate words and would approach me. "You're empty are yah? Let's see if that's true, why don't we?" He motion forward with his skunk breath hitting upon my face, smiling as it shown his yellow teeth, most of them having holes inside of them... it was disgusting.

"Don't move and stand still, we're gonna pat you down—" Before he could finish his word, a deafening sound was heard echoing across the neighborhood, scaring the other two men who were behind me as they watched their mate fall backwards with a bullet in his head. They were all in shock while one on the left side of me dropped his gun. 

"You've made a grave mistake taking me lightly lads!" I turned around and dropped my flintlock pistol, tackling the one closest to me, and it was the one on the right. I tackled him to the ground and proceeded to beat on his face like a barbaric caveman, only fueled with rage and my instinct to survive. My fist pummeled into his face until it was bloody as his other mate beside me held his pistol at my head.

"S-Stop! You killed Oliver you bastard! I'll kill you!" The one pointing the pistol at me shouted, while also being nervous to pull the trigger. I see what was going on now — the lad has never killed another man in his life, and judging from the way he stood, and with the way he held the gun, he must've been a hunter long ago before the world was sent into an apocalypse. You could tell if someone was a hunter from mere body language, and I deciphered it with him.

I knew for sure he would bring himself to killing me if it was to save his friend that I was beating upon, though his friend was killed eventually after falling onto the pavement, and taking brutal hits from my fist. Before the one on my right side could fire the pistol I backhanded it away. Yes, I could've died there, but I relied on my chances and still won in the end. Once the pistol was backhanded away, I quickly tackled him as well, but he wrestled with me... and he was quite strong as if he kept his body in shape over the course of months.

It was hard to take him down... and in the end I failed to do so. Trying to push him down to the ground led to him grabbing my trench coat and flipping me over, slamming my back into the grass as he pulled me up... and slammed me down like a barbarian. My head repeatedly slammed onto the grass, and it was enough to give me a concussion if it continued.

"Rrrghh! Hrrraaa!!" His body was only fueled from a short burst of adrenaline like mine moments ago, so he overpowered me quite easily as my own adrenaline tank seemed to wear off. "I'll kill you! Die! Die... Rghhhhaaa!" His grip on my trench coat was strong and unrelenting, however to fight for my life, I had reached forward with my hands and placed them on each side of his face, digging my thumbs directly into his eyes as he tried to pull his head away. "Gaaaaaahhh!!" His scream was bloodcurdling once red liquid was pouring out from his eye-sockets.

"Ghhh!" I grunted once I had blinded him with gouges to the eyes, proceeding to rock him in the face with my right fist, sending him backwards on his spine. He fell viciously and held his face in pain. To finish him off I would walk over to his loaded pistol picking it up and pointing it at his head. He fought well, but I couldn't let him survive and risk bringing more after me on this block if I were to let him go. However curiosity was one thing that always made me stall before I finish my opponent, so I asked him a question as clear as the bright blue sky, "What gang are you part of?" 

He was still wailing in pain, but he responded from desperation, believing that I would keep him alive if he answered me. "W-We call ourselves the London Boys! We are a small gang just looking for resources! We weren't gonna kill you, you bloody bastard, we never had the intention! We were gonna spare your life!" He eventually stopped his crying and would sniffle, unable to see again from his eyes being torn into by my thumbs. "Can I go...? Am I free?" His snotty nose and his bleeding eyes, it pained me that I had to do this to the lad, but he left me with no choice. I could tell that he was young in the age of 18 or so.

"May I tell you a story?" I asked him, waiting for his answer. The young man would grunt a few more times until he mustered the words: "W-What is it?"

I slowly moved the pistol away from his head and would keep it by my side, pointing it downwards to the ground. "My name is Sherlock Holmes, I was once a Victorian detective months ago before the world was sent into chaos from these... entities if you will, I've been-" before I could say anything else, I was interrupted.

"W-Wait a moment, you're the Sherlock Holmes? Dear god... dear god no!" The young man felt broken in his heart, as if he had done something terrible... and to be truthful... he did. He attacked me along with the other goons inside his group, threatening to kill me with their weapons, while I merely was protecting myself. "WhY gOd? Dear god why?! I've attacked such a prominent bloke! I can never forgive myself!"

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I looked down at him with saddened eyes, a bit regretful that I've gouged his eyes out, but at the same time I knew that I was safe from harm. "Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes, born in 1845, began my poems in 1865, and starting becoming a detective in 1868. Not many knows that much about me so I theorize that you're the first. But moving on; I was a man who believed in logic and science, and I found the first love of my life during 1868, the moment I became a detective. She was beautiful, she was filled with many talents, and I loved that about her." The lad upon the ground had stopped whimpering as he slowly sat up to his hands and knees.

"Was it the famous artist, Abigail Harriet? I-I heard about her and you being together years ago... s-so it's only realistic enough that I assume it's her, aye?" He spoke a bit hesitant as his body was trembling with fear, either from being blind, or from approaching death. 

"Yes, my beloved Abigail... that is her name. When I first met her, she changed my life forever and became the sole reason I began creating love poems... expressing my endless love for her beauty, and charismatic nature. She was gorgeous... she was a part of me, and I would never give her up. However as things were too good to be true, they came." The young man faced my general direction, raising his eyebrows as blood dripped down his cheeks.

"T-They? You mean the entities who brought the world to chaos?" He asked me.

"Yes, they're the reason that Abigail is no longer with me. Once they came to the place we call home, they decided to take everything from us, and use us like playthings. These creatures were enormous... just one of them could be the size of a continent as they towered over our planet with their grotesque appearances. They came from a chaotic realm beyond our universe, in such a place that mankind cannot comprehend... and to them, we're nothing more than insects inside of an ant farm." I closed my yes and looked down in sorrow. "Abigail seen them while they spoke to us. These creatures told us that they've created the Dreadbane disease, and if any of us falls asleep again, our soul and consciousness will separate from our bodies into the dreamworld, which is a place that they rule over. I couldn't believe what I saw, and I thought that I was simply dreaming... but in the end, it became true. Once people fell asleep, they never woke up again, and now Abigail is asleep... and I must find a way to awaken her once more."

"H-How will you do that Holmes sir? This disease is incurable... nothing can stop it, can't you see? God hates us... he hates all of us, that's why he sent them to earth in order to wipe out all of humanity by sending us into this nightmarish realm for eternity! This is our punishment!" The young lad on the ground seemed to lose all hope from the way he spoken. 

"I was once a religious man, lad, I always believed in god and followed his word... but ever since Abigail fallen asleep, my faith has withdrawn from my body. I believe that there is no man in the sky... but only entities who looks at our universe as nothing more than a spec of dust in a abandoned library." My words seemed to have installed more fear into the lad in front of me as he bowed his head down, forming bloody tears in his eyes that dripped onto the tall, and grassy ground beneath us. He was crying silently.

"...Then I will find out on my own, Holmes sir..." I was at first confused by his words, but then he looked up at me with a determined expression that any man would show once they've made up their mind. The cold and chilly air around us would blow through my hair as it did the same to him as well, but knocking off his bucket cap in the process. I could feel a disturbance in the air... as if this young boy wished for me to kill him, so that he could discover the truth.

"Are you saying that you wish for me to kill you, lad?" I asked him curiously, slowly holding the pistol back to his forehead, positioning the barrel. 

"Yes... my faith in god cannot be tampered with! I believe that he is watching all of this, and has a plan to stop these creatures. Please sir... grant me my death, I cannot live in this environment anymore. I've already lost my eyes, so I have nothing else to lose... except my life." He slowly tilted down his head, waiting for his death.

"If god does exist lad, may he bless you with eternal peace. I thank you for listening to my story, I needed to get that off my chest."

"...It was a pleasure, Sir Holmes."

"Aye, it was." I placed my finger on the trigger, pulling it down which released a terrifying echo that reverberated across the neighborhood. The young lad was shot through the head as his body fell backwards, landing in the pile of corpses from his other friends. I could finally rest easy, having the tension leave my body. 

In this world, it was kill or be killed. Remember these words.

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