SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

locked files

All night long, the clicking of the keyboard was the music in Sherlock’s ears. Click, click, click, click. Tap, tap, tap, tap, hold. Tap, hold, tap, tap, click. Sherlock brought his hands in between his thighs to keep them warm as he scanned over his thesis on genetic transformation and mutilated DNA. It fascinated him and cured his boredom when there wasn’t a case to be solved. For almost five years and reaching almost thirty years old, Sherlock was beginning to think his career was dwindling. At the mere thought, Sherlock dropped his head on the desk, sounding a dense thud on the wooden surface. He remained there for a few seconds before his phone vibrated in his pocket, bringing his hands around the plastic object. He pulled it out and read the caller ID. Mycroft Holmes.

Sherlock’s eye twitched. He usually ignored his brother’s bothersome texts, but this time, he was interested. He swiped the green bar over, entered his complex numeral code, and opened the text. He was immediately intrigued.

“Sherlock, I’ve been receiving several threatening emails, but I’ve ignored them since they didn’t seem too harmless. However, now they’re directed towards you. Don’t know if you’re interested--- you shouldn't be surprised if people hate you. But what makes it different, and the reason why I forward this is because the sender mentioned Alana and John. Hope you consider taking this on since you have nothing better to do. – Mycroft Holmes.”

Scrolling down the message and spotting several PDF files, Sherlock downloaded them all. They were documents of the messages sent as well as other information that could give him more evidence. Once the files had completed downloading, Sherlock opened the first one, revealing a rows and rows of copied text messages. He smiled slightly at the rush of excitement that sizzled up his spine. He slowly began reading the texts, slowly breaking them into parts and storing bits and pieces into different compartments in his brain. When he was done with the first attachment, he opened the second one. They were coordinates of where the texts were possibly coming from. They were all within the United Kingdom borders. The third attachment, however, could not be opened.

Huffing, Sherlock texted Mycroft. The last file won’t download. Did you put it in the right format this time?

Mycroft’s bubble appeared. Yes.

“It’s not opening, dear brother,” Sherlock said out loud as his fingers typed it. His thumb slammed the send button.

Well, it didn’t open for me. So I assumed you would know how to open it. Apparently you can’t if you’re texting me.

Sherlock growled and replied, Never mind. I haven’t tried yet. He powered off his phone to keep himself from distractions and stared at the red and white thumbnail. He first tried the simple route by clicking the right mouse key and selecting “properties.” The window opened, showing him completely nothing. Everything was blank. Sherlock saw that it was a huge file, but it was locked somehow. Sherlock opened several of his programs, dragging the file inside of them to see if they could read them. But all of them denied, stating that they did not “support the file.” Frustrated, Sherlock got up from his seat and went over to his multimedia bookcase. Drumming his fingers on his chin, he pulled out three boxes of software and five software books. Balancing them with care in his arms, he tottered back over to the computer and placed them on the floor beside him. He picked up one giant book and opened it to page one. He began reading.

At four in the morning, Sherlock closed the first book and picked up the second one. Before he could open it, John’s door opened and the doctor came out with his hand cupping under his chin. A thick, dark string of blood hung from the corner of the doctor’s mouth and snaked in his hands. Sherlock leaned back in his chair, placed a bent elbow on the back of the chair and stared at John, not at all very surprised.