━━━━ 𝘽𝘽𝘾 𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆
Janet Watson, John's little sister, suddenly shows up on the doormat of Apartment 221B Bakerstreet, completely out of breath and not only with a black eye, but a big package of secrets locked inside her heart.
[S.H. x O...
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┏━━━━ ༄ ━━━━┓ zombie ┗━━━━ ༄ ━━━━┛
𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗧, John and Sherlock entered the police department, accompanied by an uncomfortable looking Lestrade, they arrived to the whole unit standing in pure chaos. Employers weren't at their desks, all murmuring to each other in the tensed atmosphere, glancing around insecurely and with an unusual expression of fear.
"What is going on?", asked Sherlock right away, when they made their way to the floor.
It was, to his despair, Phillip Anderson who turned around. "What is he doing here?", he snapped immediately, stepping backwards, unnecessarily pointing at Sherlock and shooting Detective Inspector Lestrade a reproachful look.
„ I thought you weren't here today, Anderson?", sighed Lestrade, avoiding to look the forensics worker in the eyes, as he wasn't in the mood for explaining himself.
Anderson tiptoed and stretched his neck. "Who is that person behind Sherlock? I can see red-ish hair."
Janet rolled her eyes, forcing her way forward. "Wow, what a great detective you are. It's actually brown. In specific light it appears red, though. A good detective, however, wouldn't just assume something according to an impression. They'd make sure it was right. They'd always look for proof. I'm Janet Watson, by the way."
"He's not a detective", said Sherlock slowly. "He's a moron. Even less intelligent than Lestrade."
"Excuse me, I'm right here", complained Lestrade, appearing seriously indignant.
"I'll excuse you." Sherlock nodded and spread his arms in expectation, looking towards Anderson again. "So, explain the situation. If you're here, at least make yourself useful."
Anderson snorted offended, but apparently the situation was too serious for pouting. "There's been a killing", he said, though with a defiant undertone, "The teacher was beheaded."
John let out a gasp. "Beheaded? Like, actually ...".
"Yes, Watson", said Anderson with arrogance. "Actually beheaded."
Anderson sighed dramatically. "Arse", he whispered, audible for everyone, then went on: "The head was sent... it was sent here. It's on your desk, Inspector Lestrade. It had a name on it."
"What do you mean, a name on it?".
"It was addressed to you, Sherlock."
"I'm Detective Holmes, for you. Don't call me by my first name"
Anderson was waiting for Lestrade to defend him, but Lestrade passed. Anderson let out a scream and kicked a white, padded chair. "I'm out. You can do it on your own. I'm so sick of your ignorant, complacent comments."
