"Just Came To Warn You"

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"SHERLOCK!?!"

Sherlock Holmes paused, the water running into his eyes, slanting down his cheekbones and hammering onto his shoulders.

"Sherlock!?" John Watson's voice and his footsteps echoed through the passage, the sounds warping strangely as they made their way into the bathroom, where Sherlock was showering.

"What is it?" Sherlock grumbled as Watson knocked on the door. He pressed his fingertips together and rested them against his forehead, deep in thought.

"Someone here to see you!"

"I'm not here," Sherlock muttered, just loud enough for John to hear.

"It's a client, Sherlock!" John insisted, and Sherlock groaned.

"Have them come back later!"

There was a pause, and Sherlock could hear John shifting outside his door.

"Are you... are you showering?"

"Yes!" Sherlock answered, "now that you've hidden my cigarettes, I've decided to try dopamine as a replacement for nicotine. Although it doesn't work when people KEEP TALKING TO ME!!!"

"I'll go," John shrugged, (yes, he shrugged; so much was evident from his change in tone of voice) and his footsteps could be heard as he moved away, before stopping halfway the hallway.

"Ever heard of the Whytrairom Case? I'm not sure if I'm pronouncing it right, but..."

Sherlock froze.

"Ytrairom case..." he mumbled to himself.

"Have you heard of it?"

"No," he said quickly, "Never."

"Oh. He said he was here for that. I'll just send him off, and leave you to your Mind Palace."

"Too late, you've thrown me off now," Sherlock grumbled, switching off the shower and grabbing a towel. He rubbed his frizzy hair dry within seconds, opening the bathroom door.

John turned around halfway the passage, frowning.

"You can't possibly have gotten dressed that quickly," he commented as he saw Sherlock completely dressed, with coat and all.

"Once again you see but do not observe, my dear Watson," Sherlock grinned, throwing the towel back into the bathroom.

"You left the shower on while you were getting dressed?" John guessed.

"No," Sherlock replied, brushing past his friend.

"Wait a minute... your coat is wet! You showered with your clothes on!?!?!"

"Of course I did!" Sherlock shouted over his shoulder, "I can't go to battle without my armor."

"You're..."

"A highly-functioning sociopath," Sherlock replied, walking into the living room and taking in their client. He was of average height, although as with most people he seemed short when compared to Sherlock. He wore a blue cap with the word "London" written on it in big red letters, pulled slightly over his eyes, which were shielded by sunglasses. Obviously a disguise attempt.

Before Sherlock had time to further analyse his light tan-coloured jacket, white sneakers and dark pants, the client spoke. It was a soft gentle Irish accent, just two words.

"Miss me?"

"John," Sherlock went on, unfazed, "I believe we're out milk, would you mind fetching some?"

"Milk? I just bought milk this morning!" John frowned.

"I meant sugar," Sherlock corrected himself, his eyes glued to the client.

"I bought more sugar yesterday."

"I know, I used it all in an experiment."

"Does it have to be now?"

"For pete's sake Watson, just do it!" Sherlock snapped, his eyes still riveted to the man sitting, completely at ease, in his living room.

John Watson sighed, grabbing his coat and leaving. Sherlock and his client stayed motionless until they heard the door slam behind him, as he stalked off muttering about psychopaths.

"Did you?" Moriarty asked, whipping off the cap and sunglasses, "Miss me, I mean."

"Not particularly," Sherlock mumbled, sinking into his chair, "you're taking too many risks. John could have recognised you."

"Don't overestimate him," Moriarty advised, "he's smart for a pet, but he is still just that — a pet."

"You told him YOUR NAME!"

"And he missed it," Moriarty smirked, "Isn't that only proof?"

Sherlock scowled.

"Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are when you're angry?" Moriarty enquired, "It almost makes me not want to kill you."

"You're not going to kill me, not now," Sherlock deduced, "so what do you want? This is your third visit, I assume you have an actual plan."

"Finally asking the right questions," Moriarty almost purred with delight, "I've come to warn you."

"Why would you warn me?" Sherlock frowned.

Moriarty smiled.

"I figured that'd confuse you. I'll give you five weeks to figure it out."

He got up, striding out of the room. Sherlock watched him go, contemplating as always whether he'd just shoot the consulting criminal. But he needed to find the extent and the root of Moriarty's network first, and the best way to find that was to wait.

Moriarty turned around at the stairs.

"Five weeks Sherlock," he repeated, his accent clear as glass, "good luck."

With that he dropped the small gas-bomb into the room, pulling a mask over his face as the room filled with a thick pale green smoke.

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The chapters'll probably get longer later on. Don't forget to comment and vote ;-) !

-Ev

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