Just Another Case

Chapter Three

Edited 10/25/17

When John walked into the flat, he could hear Mrs. Hudson making tea.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson!" John called. Mrs. Hudson came by the front door where John was standing. "Oh John, so good to see you!" She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm making Sherlock some tea, would you like some?" 

"Oh, no thank you Mrs. Hudson." John said as he walked upstairs.

When he made it up, Sherlock was speaking with a young man, who seemed nervous. He had auburn hair, was very pale and had a small mole under his left eye. It looked like he had Heterochromia (his left eye was a chocolate brown and the right was a deep blue) and had twig-like body structure, with no visible muscles at all.

"Good day, sir." John said politely. The client seemed to jump out of his sear at the sound of John's voice. "Oh," he stammered. "H-hello."

"John, this is Alfred Quimsby," Sherlock said, gesturing to their client. "And it seems that his dog has been murd-"

"Brutally murdered." Mr. Quimsby interrupted. "There was blood on the floor when he went missing!!"

"Precisely." Sherlock said flatly. "Are you sure you didn't spill fruit punch or something?"

"Of course I'm sure!" He squeaked. "But that's not all," he continued in a quivering voice. "my most prized possessions have been destroyed as well!"

"Sir, they probably fell of a shelf or your dog could've knocked them down."

"Certainly not! In fact, I think..." Mr. Quimsby looked both ways, as if making sure the coast was clear, before whispering, "I think there are demons in my flat."

Sherlock snorted and even John couldn't suppress a smile. "A demon?" Sherlock scoffed. "Wow, that's mature." Mr. Quimsby looked down, embarrassed.

"But sir," John said, trying his best not to burst out laughing. "We can still investigate your flat. We'll even call the ghostbusters to clear the demons out." That was too much for the both of them, and the both nearly keeled over laughing. Mr. Quimsby's cheeks began to redden. After a bit, the two finally calmed down.

"In all seriousness, Mr. Quimsby, we will gladly stop by your flat tonight to investigate." John said. This made Mr. Quimsby perk up a bit. "Oh, thank you." He said, sounding relieved, and he hurried out of the flat, leaving the two partners to themselves.

----------------------------------------------

It was the middle of the evening, and Sherlock texted John to come so they could go investigate Mr. Quimsby's flat. He was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. It seemed that John was taking forever. He checked his phone to see that only two minutes have gone by.

Finally, after two minutes and twenty three seconds, John entered the flat. "Hey." He said casually.

Sherlock's stomach immediately began to feel sick, but the good kind of sick, as if there were butterflies inside it. Is this normal for a person of average intelligence? He wondered. Why was he feeling weird (a good weird) around John?

"Ready?"

Sherlock looked up startled. "Oh, right. Just moment." He stammered. He quickly ran to the bathroom and shut the door. He looked in the mirror and studied his face. "I don't seem to be ill," Sherlock muttered. "So what is it?"

"Sherlock, can we go?" John whined. Sherlock straightened up and quickly looked himself over one last time. "Oh well." He mumbled as he rustled his hair.

"Sherlock, you shouldn't take this long to look good for Alfred." John teased. Sherlock finally opened the bathroom door and walked down stairs.

"Oh please," he said with a smirk. "I always look good."

The two walked out the door just as a cab parked right across the street, and a family climbed out of it.

"Do you think the demons will hurt us?" John asked with a playful smile as they turned a corner. "I don't know," Sherlock chuckled, "But something tells me that-"

BANG!!!

Gunshots were being fired right around the corner, and without hesitation, Sherlock and John ran towards them. There were crowds screaming, cars screeching, and the gunshots continued to go off.

When the gunfire stopped, Sherlock and John ended up outside the flat. And right across the street was the family who exited the cab only moments before, only three were dead, and only a child was left to grieve.