No nightmares today.

No serial-killer Matt, no Afghan children dying in my arms, no mad soldiers shooting at mom.

It’s just me, sitting here, or resting here, or breathing here, here were?

My eyes feel gummy, and my head aches like hell, as if it is being squeezed between two blocks of stone. Then the pain is gone, just like it came.
Something soft is caressing my cheeks, it feels like a fluffy cat, but it is scarlet, how can a cat be scarlet? Oh god who cares, it is so good...

"Finally, you’re up" Blaine says.

"Where am I?" I see everything in a blur; Blaine is standing near the door.

"Umm" I hear he coughs. I rub my eyes." In my bed"

"Oh dear god... Why didn't you tell me?" I stand up in a jump. My hair is a mess, I try to cover it with my hands, as if it was the most embarrassing thing I have done today, or was it yesterday?

"Because you fainted and Finn thought he had killed you and ran away, as usual. Then I woke up and find you lying on the floor." He explains.

“Oh yeah, the freakin pet of his, is that even legal?” I whine, stretching like a cat. I have to admit I slept like a baby.

“I’m afraid it is”

I see he is already full dressed, with one of his Dolce & Gabbana shirts, black pants and his right sleeve pulled up so the arm where he was injured lays immobilized and tied to his chest. His other arm seems half okay, he doesn't move it a lot, and it is always loose at his side.


"And how did I get into your bed? How did you manage to dress on your own?" I demand an answer, not even my shoes are off, that explains the pain in my ankles. God they feel so heavy, and my back feels sore too.


"I blame your somnambulism…” He states. Oh Christ In heaven. How can that possibly happen?!! I feel a stab in my stomach, it feels funny, but I’m a bit disconcerted.

“Oh dear God, did I dress you while I sleepwalked or something like that?!”

“Eh, nope, you just stood up and slipped into my bed, of course. And the dressing, well, it took me longer than expected, but I managed to do it on my own. Nothing you can’t handle when you’ve taken a few courses of yoga before. You know I can't lift heavy things now, my arms are a bit useless..." Well, he sounds convincing, I try to calm down. I sigh in relief.

Dear God, I dumped Chandler last night, fainted and slept in Blaine's bed with Blaine included. This just can't end well.

"Oh, I see. I'm glad no one saw that..."

"What? It was an experiment, I kept it in there for science purposes…" He frowns.

"What-?! No, never mind, I don’t wanna know about your experiments. I mean, me, sleeping, in your bed, with you" I point at him.

"Is that bad?" he asks innocently. Aw, Blaine, always so disconnected about actual human behavior.

"You have no idea... You went to uni, didn’t you? People might talk"

"They always do, but you don't really need to hear them. You definitely watch too much crap telly, doctor"

We smile at each other. Yeah, I'm afraid Chandler will find out soon, he will get mad, but we didn't do anything... Inappropriate, did we? Blaine clears his throat.

"Well, I need to work on a way to finish my experiment without hands..."

"You're not going to eat your breakfast?" He frowns. Well, he frowns mostly all the time.

"Um, no today is Wednesday, I don't eat on Wednesdays remember?"

"Neither on Mondays, Tuesdays and Sundays... However, you ate a lot when we went to that Chinese Restaurant, how do you explain that?" I demand an answer. He tries to shrug but the pain hits him in the way.

"Ow, it was an experiment... Eating slows me down. I only care about my brain, everything else is just transport"

I squint at him, he turns away.

"But you're injured Blaine, you need to eat something... You wanna heal soon don't you?" It might convince him.

"What for? It'll heal in 3 weeks... Nothing to worry about doctor"

This guy is a bit fatuous. I can make him eat something though. I stretch my arms.

"Does your experiment involves butchering animals?" he frowns, then he walks to the living room. I follow him out.

"Nope, it's the coagulation of blood in the liver after pouring sulfuric acid in a below cero environment"


Well, at least that sounds a bit decent, bearable. I've got a chance.

"Okay, so here's the deal, you eat something, and then I'll help you in whatever you have to do"
He looks at me with interest, his triangular eyebrows raised.

"Sounds tempting"

Almost there, now, I need an extra incentive.

"Or if you want I can call your brother" I say shrugging. He looks at me a little annoyed.

"No! Okay it's a deal. I'll eat and you'll help me". He sits in front of our improvised table. I tidy some things to make some space.

"What's in the fridge?" i ask him.

"Yours or mine?"

"The real fridge, not the improvised morgue, of course mine Blaine!" I open the fridge and take out a few edible things. There's no point in asking him, he never eats as far as I have seen.


"You're so grumpy some days you know... I wonder why" He looks at the ceiling.

"Oh for God’s sake, you're the consultant detective you tell me..." He looks at me for a while. Analyzing look, the one he uses when he is thinking in one of his cases.

"I'm still looking for your father, if you ask" He finally says. I wasn't really expecting that, but I try not to show my surprise. I keep making breakfast.

"Yeah? And how is it going?"

"There is a lot of evidence missing" he says, dryly. I sigh, I stand no chance and I know it.

"So, not good?" He seems offended.

"I don't say that, of course it is going good it's just that I can't find enough data to work on with..." He tries to justify himself. Really I don't care; it won't make any difference to me. I barely knew him; I've been living more than 20 years without him, that wouldn't change anything, would it? I try to change the subject.


"So we have some spaghetti, soup and orange juices... oh, please tell me this is not human” I ask him handing him a bag with something that looks like blood. He takes a quick glance and heads to the living room part not visible from the kitchen.

“My fridge is almost full today; it’s all I can say. After all I was the one who bought the fridge actually. I expect some benefits from that you know.”
I hold the bags further. Blood might be contaminated; anyway, it’s a safety bag. So the food is innocuous, I hope.

“Yeah, you’re right” I resign to make food with the un-biohazard things.

“Not much but at least we can do a decent meal with it. I'll cook some scrambled eggs with bacon and maybe we'll have a toast..."

"No need to tell me, just do it" He grunts.

"Okay" He is a little grumpy sometimes, but he is too proud to admit it.







Now I try to make a decent breakfast, it smells good. I've always loved cooking, its just something that works as a stimuli for me. I can take my anger by cracking nuts and eggs against the edge of a pan, and sometimes I see my sorrows dissolve like sugar in a tea cup. It's really pleasing, like a big metaphor of life. I don't like sugar of course, but I know Blaine does. This weird little detective that looks very sour sometimes. The scent of sweet pancakes feels the room. It's warmer now, and it swallows the scent of the formaldehyde and naphthalene which Blaine uses for ... Well I really don't know what he does with that.

Even Blaine takes deep breathes once in a while, when he is pretending to do something in the living room.

"Breakfast is ready!" I shout. Blaine makes a strange sound in response. I take the gloves out and walk to the living room. He is sitting (Both feet on the chair, knees bended, sitting in his toes) close to the desk, were he is typing something with a pen in his mouth on a computer... Wait.


"Is that my computer?" He nods, an continues writing.


"Mine is in the bedroom" I think he says, even with the pen I can slightly understand what he says.


"And you couldn't bother to get up?" He doesn't even mind looking at me.

"Busy, sorry"


"But it was password protected..." And I swear the password wasn't too easy to find out.

"Yeah, in a matter of saying..." He says, spitting the pen to the side. He closes the computer with his chin and walks to one of his boxes of things. I really need to get this mess cleared off now that Blaine is unable to stop me.


"Okay I've cleared the table, come here and let's eat something" I say with a huge grin in my face.

"Coming"

He sits in the chair opposite. I grab the fork and start eating the eggs with bacon. They're not too bad; perhaps they need a little bit more salt... No, too much salt is bad for health. Umm, the tea is great. I really like Earl Gray, I think I'm gonna get some more at Tesco tomorrow... I look at Blaine. He is staring oddly at his plate, like if he wanted to capture every single detail of the shape of the eggs.


"Why aren't you eating?" I ask biting my toast. He frowns.

"I umm... Seem to have an impossibility of making any movements with my arms, which is giving me a considerable amount of pain..."

Translation: Please help.

Ow, that was the problem. He bends his head down and tries to eat the egg like a chicken.

"Oh, no please, I'll just..." I stop him. Then I grab his plate and pinch the eggs with his fork.

"Here" I say, putting the fork near his mouth.

"I'm not a baby. This is humiliating" He complains.

"You need to eat" I threaten him seriously. Almost closing the distance between the fork and his mouth.

"Eating is bo-" I take this chance to shove the fork into his mouth, carefully. He opens his eyes wide while he chomps his food.

"See? It wasn't that bad" I grab more eggs with bacon and repeat the operation. He is no looking flabbergasted at me again, he just eats, normally, with that empty look he has sometimes. I can't really imagine what he is thinking; I've come to the conclusion that his mind is some sort of terminator like which only sees facts around it.


"I suppose I should thank you..." He says when the food is over.

"Yeah, you suppose correctly" At least he is trying to be nice. He struggles with three challenging words for his unkind-high-functioning mind.

"Thank you Kurt. I really appreciated your help." He stammers. I know he is not good with people, neither with modals, so this can be called progress. He deserves a huge grin.


"You're welcome" He quickly stands up and walks into the living room again, just to stare outside his window. Then he grabs his violin and starts playing a deep melody, sounds a bit epic, it could be Requiem for a Dream? I think so...











After a while, I eat my cold breakfast and do the dishes. When I take my apron off, I realize that Blaine is staring at me with interest. He is sitting (properly, almost, thank god) still with his bow and violin on each hand. Like if he was waiting for something to come...

"Okay I'll start with the experiment now..." I say, trying to hide my absolutely-not-interested look with a half-smile.

"Why do you do that?"

"What? The dishes? Because obviously you're never going to do the dishes, you're going to leave them there until they come to life and move by themselves..." He hushes me.

"No, well I mean I've already made a schedule for the measurement of bacteria growth in the dishes, obviously..." He cuts. Oh god he is insane. I let him go on.

“But, I just don't understand, why do you care so much about people? Why do you stay longer in the clinic eventhough your shift is over, or why do you take care of Mrs. Hudson’s hip when you know she can't afford a doctor, or why did you missed your dinner with your boyfriend just to take care of me?" He talks at an amazing speed, it takes me a while to think of a coherent answer.

"You even shot at a man when I was going to take the pill, remember?" He is looking for something in my eyes, I find his gaze a bit intimidating.

"Why do you do all this Kurt?"

"Umm, that's because I'm a doctor, I can't just watch people like you play with their lives as if there were nothing..."

"So, my life means something to you?" I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. That's not why I was trying to say, or yes? I nod, hesitantly.

"Yeah, of course, all lives mean something Blaine. I care about everyone. I get actually paid from saving lives you know." I stuttered. He seems convinced though.

"You’re not getting anything from me in return, doctor” He emphasizes the last word.

I open my mouth to answer, but then the door slams open. Detective Inspector Chang enters to the room.

"Oh, sorry guys, am I interrupting something?" Mike Chang apologized. Behind him, Sam Evans and Quinn Fabray stared with curiosity.

"Evans?! What the hell are you doing here?!" Blaine shouted, more than annoyed. Sam had a huge grin in his face, apparently, he enjoyed doing that. Blaine threw his violin and bow to the armchair nearby.


"Don't mind him, we were just heading to Regent's Park, apparently a maid found his boss pinned to the wall with a harpoon" The Asian detective says, as coldly as you can say 'oh, a cup of tea would be nice, thank you..."


"So? What's the matter?"


"He lived in the sixth floor. No forced entry and no witnesses.” Blaine joins his hands near his mouth, like praying, which I have named “the thinking pose”


"Sounds interesting"

"Um, but I see you got injured Sherlock, how did it happen?" Mike asks a little concerned. I have to ask him why does they call him Sherlock later. Noted.

"Irrelevant. Let's go then" Blaine blocked him, heading to the door.

"The freak can't come like that, he would be useless" Quinn objected. You can read “Bitch” in her face. She looks proud though, sharing a suspicious smile with Sam, Blaine stops.

"I won't” He turns around. “ I've got an assistant, doctor Hummel is going to help me" He says looking at me, with a huge grin in his face. Quinn looks a bit disappointed and Sam kills me with an angry look.

Touché.

"Is that true Kurt?" Mike asks, a bit skeptical. I sigh, I know Blaine is like a damn tape recorder which is going to repeat 'I'll help you with whatever you have to do' like my big mouth said.

"Yeah, that's true"









Carl Abrahams was his name.

The victim: a man in his mid-thirties, taller than the average English men, short brown hair, Armani glasses, navy blue suit, all splattered with his own blood. There's a huge harpoon coming out of where his abdomen used to be. I guess he has less than 24 hours dead, due to the smell. His flat is nice, quite posh for my taste, it has a room with all sorts of antiques, pity I can't touch them. There is a pair of nice sai swords that I could use... But it is a crime scene Kurt, focus.

Blaine enters the room eating a chocolate, how come he does that? It's a crime scene for god's sake! He eats a surprisingly amount of candy. His diet merely consists of Wonka sweets and Jelly Bellies. Perhaps because he might have ran out of nicotine patches.

I take a look of a picture nearby. There is a huge woman (well, proportionally talking she is just the size of the man pinned to the wall) hugging the man. It's their wedding day. She has short hair, a very tiny mouth and is proudly smiling.

"Dorothy Grint, his wife" Mike explains.


Blaine takes a look at the man from every angle he can.

"Kurt, magnifying glass please..." The consultant detective asks me, but it sounds more like an order. I roll my eyes.

"Where is it?"

"Jacket" He says pointing down with his chin. So he can eat chocolate but not reach his own breast pocket for his magnifying glass? Yeah, and without any complain I obey. Damn the Army for making me do this. Old habits die hard.

I put my hand into his pocket hoping that I don't find something either sticky or alive in there. I've had enough with Finn's spider today. There are several cold objects, a pen and... Bingo!

I take it out, opening it. He nods.

"Near the lips please..." I get it closer to his mouth. He opens his eyes wide.

"Um, the victim's lips Kurt..." He mutters. Oh, right. Do as he says.

"Okay, now neck... Fingers... Harpoon... Floor...." We examine almost every part of the crime scene near the man. He just bending and I holding the glass carefully, so he doesn't squint at me.

"What do you have so far?" Mike asks impatiently.

"Um, the victim was a trade agent. Recently returned from a business trip perhaps..."

"It was the wife evidently" Sam huffed. Blaine stood still and rolled his eyes. He loses his temper easily when Sam is around.

"Shut up Sam, you low the IQ of the entire street... It wasn't his wife; look at the man's tie!" Blaine shouts pointing at the tie, looking for a sing in our faces. We look at each other. Sam is frowning so hard that you can't see anything but his big mouth curling into a strange grimace. Terrifying, by the way.


“The question is for everyone who has more than a single brain cell Sam, don’t bother”.


Then Blaine looks at me, with a little hope in his eyes.


"I don't follow either..." I admit shrugging.


“Oh please, dear God why can people just think!" He seems annoyed. I guess sometimes he forgets that normal people don't really look at things the way he does.


"Enlighten us then" Mike sighs. "I just have five minutes"


"Here you can see the tie's knot is done to the right and not to the left, so obviously someone else helped him do that..."

"Obviously?" I ask out loud. The Yard people look at me as if I’d just committed a sin, then they look at Blaine waiting for something (bad I think, due to the look in their faces) to come. Blaine turns at me again. His face is blank, if I don’t know him; I’d say he is just a mannequin.

"Look the graduation photos, the knot in his tie is always done to the left, then in those trip photos with his wife the knot is done to the left, so obviously she was the one that helped him... And no, the wife wasn't the one who murdered Carl, eventhough she does javelin throw in her spare time and he has been hiding something from her recently..." He says taking quick glances at everything around him.

I sometimes wonder how he survived high school, but then, I think that an amazing power like that could just serve for a simple purpose...

"Blackmailing..." Blaine says looking at me directly in the eye.

"Sorry?" Oh, now he reads my mind and answers my inner self questions.

"The lover, has been blackmailing him recently, but has nothing to do with the case. The wife didn't know he had a lover, and she didn't kill him, as you can see in the window"

"The window?" Sam asks rubbing the back of his head.

"Yes, the WINDOW! That rectangular frame of glass that is hanging over your head Evans, filistean. The window is too small for a woman like Dorothy to just climb in and stab her husband in a jealous rage... No. It was someone else..."
He makes a pause and looks at the man again for a while.

"Wow" I whisper. I hadn't seen that window since we came in, I guess I was too mesmerized with those beautiful sai swords.

"Kurt, insert your hand in the victim's mouth" Blaine orders with his face an inch aparet from the victim’s.
I hesitate. There's a reason why I decided to become an army doctor instead of a dentist, and it's killing me right now. Blaine seems to realize it.

"Hold on a sec" He orders and faces Quinn. "Give him your gloves" She seems a bit offended and turns to Mike Chang. He nods and shrugs. A minute later she is handing me her gloves. They fit perfectly in my hands.

"Okay..." I sigh.

Sanity, sanity SANITY. Ugh, this is disgusting, I feel the smooth tongue and the man's paladar, even with the gloves it feels cold and sticky, and I feel something is shoved in the man's throat. It's hard and small. It has several edges... I pull it out.


It's a black origami flower.


Sergeant Fabray hands me a plastic bag and I put it inside. Blaine has that strange semi-psycho look again. He is thinking very fast, his eyes jumping from one way to another at an amazing speed. We wait for him. I need to wash my hands, immediately. I escape from the crime scene to the bathroom right in front of the entrance. I open the door. Where's the switch?


I feel the cold wall, until I find what I want. I turn the switch on. I grab the soap, it smells good, it might be from a very expensive brand, and grab the towel. When I raise my hand to look at the mirror, I jump backwards.

There is a strange symbol painted with spray right at the place where my face should be.

"Blaine!" I shout, leaving quickly.


"He was avoiding something else, something that just concerned himself. Paying debts maybe? His wife didn't know, unfortunately... Something dangerous, could be, who knows?" Blaine speaks out loud, possibly directing his thoughts to Mike Chang, who has taken out a little note pad and starts writing what my flatmate says.


"Umm Blaine I..."


"Oh, there we can see from the angle of the harpoon..." He says not listening while he walks, eyes focused in the ceiling and his hands mimicking the scene. "It was a small woman, 5 or 6 inches shorter than me; she grabbed the harpoon from here..." I step aside.


"Blaine there is something you..."


"Obviously, Asian, she's got a Harley Davidson Kurt..." Yes, he talks to himself and includes me without me even realizing it. That’s… I’d say weird, but no. It’s just very Blaine.


"How the hell...? Oh never mind, there is something in the bath..." I try to explain, but he simply hushes me and looks at the each of weapons set on the wall.


"Eenie Meenie Miney Mo... There! We have it." He examines the sheath of a katana where papers are lightly coming out.


“Closed an envelope, that’s weird for someone as wealthy as him... Perhaps the warning is hidden in one of those, but no, it has to be something big, something that would terrify him."


"Oh, like a huge graffiti in his bathroom for example?" I say sarcastically. He winces and stares at me.


"Yes! That's brilliant Kurt! How could you possibly deduce that?" He asks a bit surprised. The rest of the Yard looks surprised too.

“Oh god, I told you it was contagious…” Sam quavers to Quinn, horrified.


"No, because I saw it a while ago and I was trying to tell you but-"


"Come on something, come on in then..." He squeaks excited while he walks out of the room. The bathroom door creaks open. He walks cautiously near the mirror.

“Oh” He whispers, I pass a finger through the paint. It’s dry, and from a very long time I suppose.

“Kurt, my phone, take a picture of it, it’s in my pocket” Oh god no, the breast pocket scene again. I try to do it quickly before the Yard agents enter to the bathroom.

“Careful!” Blaine complains. I roll my eyes. His IPhone has no code. I take a few pictures.

"What does that mean?" Mike Chang asks him. Blaine stares at it like a little child stares at his Christmas presents.

"That it is gonna be great!" He beams pulling me out of the house. It is weird, because he pulls my sleeve with a strong grip. We leave a bunch of confused Scotland Yard officers behind.


"I don't get it, where are we going?" I ask releasing my sleeve and walking right behind him.


“First, home, I forgot to shut the window “Blaine explains while I call a taxi. "Then, we'll need to find one of my contacts near the Thames"


"Why are you so damn happy?" Ok, now I really sound like the Grinch. But I can’t stand to look at his almost shining smiley face without knowing the cause of it.


"Something great is coming" He sighs. Then he looks a bit concerned. “I need to know something about you though”. A taxi stops and we get in. Blaine tells him an address.


“What do you need to know?” He turns and stares directly into my eyes.


“Do you feel like now is the time for being adventurous? Because, you can feel free to leave when you want to, Kurt, so if you want to turn back to your ordinary life in your ordinary clinic now it’s the time.” This sounds like a contract, the oddest contract I’ve ever done. I sigh, evading his shining golden eyes.


“I’m sitting in a cab, with the world’s only consulting detective, right after a visit to a crime scene, heading to god-knows-were well aware that you’re not the average London flatmate, and I’m not afraid”


“So you’re well aware that you won’t be able to turn back too?” He looks sideways. That’s not all of it. He is struggling, and I don’t need to have his analysis powers to know something is wrong with him.


“Why are you saying this?” I ask quietly. “Usually I try not to say this out loud, but you’re scaring me a bit”


He smirks. As he hadn’t heard that thing before… dozens of times. He turns completely to face me. God, he is talking serious.
“Kurt, there is a moment when you say yourself… “


“Oh, there you are…” I swear I can hear him breathe loudly. My heart is drumming loudly in my chest. I hold my breath.


“I’ve been looking for my skull forever, I can’t find it.” I let go my breath. What the hell where you thinking Kurt?!


“Everybody else seems stupid, and some indeed are, but you’re just, well, not everybody. I seem to think better when you hear me so… well I think you could be a great assistant.” He shrugs with his half-healthy arm.


“You’re an Army doctor, and you seem to have a fond for danger” I remain silent, first of all for the fright that he’s just gave me, and second because well, his words are very true. He glances out of the window.


“But I have dreadful enemies, people who will try to kill me when they have the chance. Do you want to live like that?”


I smile. Of course I love danger, and here I realize that I might just be as mad as my little flatmate is.


“Well, I’ve already decided that” I confess. He turns his head quickly. “Death has never been a problem for me. I’ll go with you, to your little mysterious cases”


“Despite of what people think about you?” He says apparently still not trusting his senses.


“Screw them then. I’ll go with you, I’ll help you even if Mercedes stabs me with a knife for taking this mad decision.” He takes his time analyzing each of my eyes, as he does when he looks at his cases. My words apparently weren’t the sort of answer he was hoping to hear.


“Okay” He ends with a little smile.