Play the Game - Sherlock fanfic (Sequel to Painting Murders)

APS Security

Sorry it's been a while since I updated :S but here you are - another chapter too enjoy!

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I looked from John to Sherlock as I listened to Mrs Hudson answer the door downstairs. They both looked fairly unresponsive and absent to the fact they had a potential client waiting downstairs and I wondered suddenly if I needed to leave. Although clients were calling all the time, I wasn't usually present during the meetings since they didn't concern me. I wasn't a detective or a detective's blogger - if anything I was just a drifter. I floated around like a friendly Baker Street ghost, sometimes there and sometimes not, depending on what was happening.

I stood to one side as Mrs Hudson knocked on the door and stood aside slightly in the door way, "Sherlock, dear, there are some people here to see you. Should I show them up?"

Sherlock resumed his typical position in his chair and thought for a moment, John falling into his armchair with a heavy sigh.

"Send them up." Sherlock finally demanded in a low mumble, placing his arms on the chair and drumming his fingers.

Mrs Hudson nodded and looked around the flat, "Maybe you should clear up a bit. Make the place look nice for clients."

Sherlock grunted disapprovingly and Mrs Hudson left, her footsteps tapping all the way back down the stairs.

I cleared my throat and shifted awkwardly, "Should I leave?"

"You can stay if you'd like," John said, folding up the morning paper and throwing it down next to the fireplace, "But it could just be some crack-pot that has lost his pet frog."

I laughed and sat on the sofa. Just as I touched the material Sherlock shot up in his seat, "Not there!"

I sprung to my feet, looking for the potential danger I could have sat on.

"Why not?" John asked impatiently as we heard people climbing the stairs.

"Because the clients will sit in a chair over there. I can't have Everly sat behind them distracting me." Sherlock complained unhelpfully. I looked around for a empty chair and ended up sitting cross legged on the floor with my back against John's armchair, watching unsurely as three men dressed in suits walked into the flat, not bothering to knock.

"Hello, take a seat." Sherlock said dismissively and pointed to the one chair in the centre of the room.

The men looked at it then back at Sherlock as if they didn't understand what he was saying.

"Maybe I should get some more chairs," I said, making a motion to stand up but was stopped when a notepad landed in front of me after being thrown with violent force which was followed by a pen. It rolled away from me upon its impact on the carpet by my feet.

"Sit. You can take notes." Sherlock said before turning his attention to the men, "Whichever one of you is most interesting can sit down and talk. The other two can just stand silently."

The men looked at each other again until the man with sandy blond hair sat down in the chair. He had a stubbly beard and soft, tired eyes. His suit wasn't as sharp as the other two's; tie loose around his neck and shirt crumpled from when it had been hastily pulled on.

Sherlock smiled passively, "Good morning Mr Simons. What can I do for you today? Or rather, what story are you going to bore me with today? It's a rather important one though, going by the state of your dress, you hurried here to tell me. I'll try to remain interested."

The man looked suddenly alert, bemused and shuffled uncomfortably in the chair.

I uncapped the pen and wrote 'Mr Simons' at the top of a blank page in the note book in my best handwriting.