Sherlock is alone on the floor with his back against the bench. He bounced a small rubber ball off the floor and cupboard in front of him and catches it before repeating the action constantly. John finally comes in.
"You got his message I take it." I ask, sitting on the counter, fingering the flower necklace my grandfather gave to me on Christmas 14 years ago.
"Yeah, I did." Sherlock catches the ball and holds on to it.
"The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it - beat Moriarty at his own game."
"What d'you mean, "use it"?"
VHe used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook."
"And bring back Jim Moriarty again." He stands up.
"Somewhere in 221B, somewhere - on the day of the verdict - he left it hidden." He turned and faced the bench, putting both hands on the work surface. John walked to stand beside him, unconsciously mimicking his stance.
"Uh-huh." Both of them stared ahead of themselves, thinking. John pursed his lips, then looked at Sherlock. I put the necklace in my pocket and jump off the bench. "What did he touch?"
"An apple. Nothing else." He briefly drummed his fingers on the bench.
"Did he write anything down?" I ask, hopefully.
"No." John hissed in a breath and looked away, and again unconsciously mimicking his friend by drumming his own fingers on the bench. After a moment, he turned and walked across the lab, blowing the breath out again. Sherlock lifted the fingers of his right hand, hesitates for a moment, then began to drum them again but now he started beating out a specific rhythm. He lifted his head as John sighed heavily, unaware of Sherlock's sharpened expression. Straightening up, Sherlock turned his back to John, takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to type a text message.
It's only hours later until dawn starts to break. Sherlock was still in the same place in the lab, sitting on a stool with his feet up on the bench. He rapidly rolled the rubber ball from side to side across the bench, his fingers flickering rapidly over the top of the ball. John had sat on a stool at a nearby bench and he had his head down on his folded arms, asleep. His phone rings and I jump at the sudden noise. Lifting his head tiredly, he groaned and answers the phone. "Yeah, speaking." He listened for a moment. "Er, what?" He gets to his feet. "What happened? Is she okay?" He listened again. "Oh my God. Right, yes, I'm coming." He switched the phone off.
"What is it?"
"Paramedics. Mrs Hudson - she's been shot." I jump up and quickly walk to John's side.
"What? How?"
"Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. Jesus. She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go." We turn towards the door.
"You go. I'm busy." John and I turn back towards him, John's face appalled, mine horrified.
"Busy?"
"Thinking. I need to think."
"You need to ...? Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her."
"She's my landlady." He shrugged like it was no big deal and I just gave him a sad look.
"She's dying..." John flailed a hand in front of himself in utter disbelief at Sherlock's attitude. "You machine." I look down, shaking my head. "Sod this. Sod this." He heads towards the door." You stay here if you want, on your own."
YOU ARE READING
ONLY HUMAN Book 1 ✅
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] Nakida suddenly had the opportunity to move to London for a job offer and immediately jumped to it, after wanting to go to the UK for years. After knowing an alarming amount of London life, he finds that he will be working alongside Dete...
