Darkness Follows...(BBC Sherlock Fanfiction).

Chapter 17- Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

A/N- So I'm not too sure about this chapter, it's not brilliant as I've been bogged down with exams. Next one should be better. xx

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Darcy's POV.

"Right, I'm going out." John announced as he pushed himself out of his armchair, I glanced up at him from my Grimm's fairy tales book I had taken from my bag. I was currently reading, 'Little Snow White' which was the original and dark version of the Snow White we know today.

That's why I loved it.

"Where are you going?" I asked him, as Sherlock was clearly in another world. His world, his mind palace.

John sighed and put his coat on, "Job interview." He stated plainly and made his way towards the door.

I nodded and looked back down at my book, starting to read intently once again. I heard him groan and storm down the stairs, slamming the front door behind him.

Now the queen, having eaten Snow-white's heart, as she supposed, felt quite sure that now she was the first and fairest, and so she came to her mirror, and said,

"Looking-glass upon the wall,

Who is fairest of us all?"

And the glass answered,

"Queen, thou art of beauty rare,

But Snow-white living in the glen

With the seven little men

Is a thousand times more fair."

"Could you pass me a pen?" I heard Sherlock ask, and I rolled my eyes not answering his question. Not moving to get him a pen at all, he should get it himself if he wanted a pen.

Lazy.

I was too engrossed in this dark, fantasy of a story. I glanced at Sherlock, who was sat on a dining room chair with his back to the table, over my book and saw him staring at the wall, his eyes almost glazed over.

I looked up to see the pictures Sherlock had printed off of the graffiti from the office that were pinned up around the mirror above the fireplace. My eyes were immediately drawn away from the pictures and back to my book.

Then she was very angry, for the glass always spoke the truth, and she knew that the huntsman must have deceived her, and that Snow-white must still be living. And she thought and thought how she could manage to make an end of her, for as long as she was not the fairest in the land, envy left her no rest.

At last she thought of a plan; she painted her face and dressed herself like an old pedlar woman, so that no one would have known her. In this disguise she went across the seven mountains, until she came to the house of the seven little dwarfs, and she knocked at the door and cried, "Fine wares to sell! Fine wares to sell!" Snow-white peeped out of the window and cried, "Good-day, good woman, what have you to sell?"

John walked very loudly into the living room and dropped his jacket in his armchair, I glared at him a little and tried as best as I could to continue reading.

"I said, 'Could you pass me a pen?'" Sherlock stated and John looked over at me as if he thought he was talking to me, I glanced up and shrugged innocently.

John frowned, "What? When?"

"'Bout an hour ago." Sherlock answered and I smirked, looking back down at my book. But realising it was hopeless and closed it.

John sighed loudly, "Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." He went to pick up a pen and looked over at me, "Why didn't you get him one?"

I just shrugged and gestured to the closed book in my lap, "I was busy." John rolled his eyes and tossed the pen in Sherlock's direction, who flawlessly caught it with one hand and still remained looking at the pictures on the wall intently.