Case Closed | Moriarty The Patriot

Chapter 9

It had been a few months since the murder of Lord Drebber. Everyone could tell that the lack of leads in the case of Hope's benefactor was getting to Sherlock.

Phoebe had gone to spend a few days at her family's vacation home, but came back only for John to drag her upstairs.

So there Phoebe and John were, stood in the doorway to the flat, both watching as Sherlock laid curled up on the loveseat, a pou etched onto his face as he rested.

"He's been like this for days. He wouldn't even eat the pie that you left with us," John whispered.

"It's that bad?" Phoebe spoke sympathetically as she kept her voice low.

"You have no idea. He won't see clients. This mystery mastermind has been plaguing his mind and I don't know how to help him. I was hoping he would listen to you," John said as he looked at Phoebe with pleading eyes.

"I'll see what I can do," Phoebe replied as she stood up straight. "But I'll do it later. I want him to get his rest."

"Alright. I'll be in my room. If you need me," John said before he went up the stairs that led to his room.

Phoebe walked into the living room quietly and made her way over to Sherlock. She knelt down and stiffled a laugh as he snored. She gently ran her fingers through his silky hair.

She lied her head on the sofa beside Sherlock's head and sighed softly as she closed her eyes.

"We'll figure this out," Phoebe murmured as her eyes fluttered closed.

🔎

Sherlock woke up after a few hours and when he opened his eyes, he saw a mop of brown hair beside him.

He sat up and saw Phoebe asleep, leaned against the loveseat with her head rested on the cushion.

He smiled to himself as he looked at her before she slowly lifted her head.

"Sherlock?" She mumbled as she looked up at him.

"I'm up," he said as he stretched out his arms.

"John wanted me to talk to you. He said you haven't been taking care of yourself and that you didn't even eat my pie," Phoebe said as she sat up straight, rubbing her neck that was now stiff.

Sherlock sighed as he leaned backwards and dragged his hand down his face.

"I'm fine, I just can't seem to get this case out of my head. I need to solve it Phoebe," Sherlock grumbled as he stared at the ceiling.

"I know there probably isn't much I can do to help, but if there's anything you need from me, just let me know," Phoebe said as she stood up from the floor, some of her joints clicking as she stretched a bit.

"You'll be the first to know," Sherlock replied, giving her a small smile.

"Good. Just promise me that you'll at least take care of yourself. I don't want you to drain yourself to the point where you can't work at all," Phoebe said.

"I'll be okay. Phoebe. Thank you. How was your trip though?" Sherlock asked, standing from his spot on the sofa.

Phoebe smiled a bit as she walked towards his desk. "It was fun, but I've been there so many times. I only go because of my family. Speaking of family, have you spoken with Mycroft recently?"

Sherlock scoffed, standing beside her to go through different telegrams and letters that he was sent by potential clients. "No. He only talks to me when it's convenient for him. I'm surprised that he never wrote to you."