A New Life

Chapter Eleven

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The stairs lifted as I reached the top of the fire escape, leaving John stranded down below. He would never be tall enough to reach it. I stood beside a smiling Sherlock.

"Are you two gonna help me up?" I heard John holler.

I leaned over the railing to look at him.

"Sorry love, you'll have to meet us at the front. After all, we need a look out! It's a very important job," I joked, with a wave goodbye.

Sherlock was already headed inside, so I started to follow. He let out a small gasp, causing me to jump in fear.

"You ok Sher?" I speedily asked.

His face was inches from mine as he stuck his head outside. I took in a deep breath, his close proximity clouding my mind. His eyes wandered across my face before locking with mine.

"Yeah, just watch out for the vase," he muttered, slowly moving his head back inside.

My breath hitched for a moment before I regained control. What was this man doing to me? I climbed inside avoiding the vase. Sherlock was leaning down, with his hand on the rug.

"Someone else has been here," he whispered to me.

"Your whispering is freaking me out, Sher," I whispered back to him.

The eerie apartment putting my nerves on high alert. Straightening up, he placed his hand on my shoulder helping to calm me.

"Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just as you did?" I asked him.

He nodded and we headed towards the kitchen. It would be the quickest way to see how long the owner has been gone. Sherlock moved to the washing machine as I checked the fridge. I took out the milk and checked the date, shaking my head. I noticed Sherlock remove some clothes from the washer, he sniffed the handful of clothes grimacing. I closed the fridge and walked around the living room. The doorbell started ringing, alerting us to Johns attempt at gaining our attention.

"D'you think you could let me in this time?" John called from the front door.

I was going to allow him inside, but Sherlock stopped me.

"The washing is starting to smell," he told me.

I stepped closer to him, something felt wrong to me.

"The milk's gone off too," I added.

"We're not the first," he hollered, alerting John.

I heard the letterbox opening as John's voice filled the air. "What?"

Sherlock stepped closer. "Somebody has been here before us!" he yelled.

I took out the pocket magnifier from Sherlock's coat, invading his personal space without caring. I moved over to where a foot had rucked up the rug, leaving an impression of the intruder's shoe.

"Size eight feet," I mumbled to Sherlock, handing him his magnifier.

To my amusement, he took a quick look, before nodding his head in agreement.