Chapter 1
Hi... Ms. Taken here... I honestly have no excuse for this story... It's just to procrastinate writing the others... I'm sorry
I'll continue this if anyone really wants me too... sorry it's not better.
Disclaimers... I don't own any version of Sherlock.
This has some touchy subjects covered. (Nothing too bad in the first chapter, but it might get darker later...)
Please don't read if you might be a little sensitive. I won't be offended, I swear.
This hasn't been Brit-picked.. and I'm not British... sooo sorry...
I hope you enjoy this story born from pure procrastination...
Let me know if anyone wants more... I don't know if I'll continue otherwise...
Also, this is an AU... John is a high schooler... and the timeline is a little messed up... I hope it's not confusing to read...
Enjoy?
Hello!
We are doing a pen pal program! I'm really excited about getting to know you, and vice versa!
My name is John. I am a freshman in high school. I really enjoy rugby and soccer. I'm planning to be a doctor when I get a little older.
I currently live with the 'great' Sherlock Holmes. It's not as great as some would expect… In fact it's downright terrible sometimes.
He's eccentric, messy, rude, childish and, honestly, an all around trouble magnet. I've been kidnapped about once a month since I came to live here in 221B. It's sad, but I've kinda gotten used to it…
I'm sorry if you know him (or that he's the reason you got caught and are in jail… I'm even more sorry if I helped put you there…) I also run his blog… a misconception a lot of people have.
Anyways, what's your name? Do you have any hobbies? Am I allowed to ask why you're in jail? If the answer to the last question is 'yes', Why are you in jail? Do you have a lot of friends? When do you get out? What did you use to do for fun (or what do you do now for fun)?
I hope to hear back from you soon!
-John H. Watson
P.s. Don't tell Sherlock we're pen pals… I think he would be really mad.
John put the paper into an envelope and handed it to the teacher.
He didn't know if it was a good idea to tell a criminal he lived with the world's only consulting detective… but it's not like said criminal could do anything to him… right? And, adding to that… it was common knowledge that the infamous detective lived at 221B… right?
Either way, he wasn't going to tell Sherlock. There's no way he'd approve.
It was part of John's grade… that's how he'd justify it. It was 50 points a letter. If he didn't do them, there was no way he'd pass the class.
The teacher had said they would do this once a week, but that the students could write to them in their free time if they wished (not that anyone would).
They were to write a letter to someone in prison. Some type of 'rehabilitation' help. John was all for it.
He liked to help Sherlock chase criminals, loved the thrill of the chase… if he were honest with himself, which, admittedly, needed some work, he also liked getting kidnapped… he loved knowing Sherlock was going to save him. Loved feeling just a little bit helpless, but also knowing he could beat the crap out of his captors if he wanted or needed to. Most of the time.
John supposed there was something wrong with enjoying that, but no need to worry anyone…
But John also just wanted these people to get help. He knew most of them have reasons for what they did. John believed in second chances. He'd gotten one, why shouldn't they?
The bell rang signaling the end of class. Students rushed out the door. John hung back a little. He didn't care much for being one of the first.
He didn't like being pushed around. The first ones out were usually people who pushed others. The lunch room wasn't going anywhere and the car parks were always backed up for the first ten minutes anyway.
"Mr. Bruce, when will we get replies from our pen pals?" John was curious. He'd never done something like this before.
"Well, we hope it will be before next Wednesday. If they are, we can get a grasp on the time-frame it takes the post to get where it needs to be." Mr. Bruce was a bland and, frankly, boring teacher. Never giving to much or too little homework. Never yelling… he was a very introverted man, very mild mannered , most students liked him… John didn't.
Some of Sherlock's 'Deduction' skill set had rubbed off on him. He could tell Mr. Bruce had a dark side. John hadn't know what until there were parent teacher conferences. John had to nearly beg Sherlock to come. John wanted to show how well he was doing in his school work.
Of course, Sherlock knew within the first ten seconds what the suspected 'dark side' was to Mr. Bruce. He often watched small children in his free time, he later told John.
He just watched, but Sherlock said if John found anything else, to tell Lestrade, a very good friend of both Sherlock and John, immediately.
Sherlock was currently trying to gather more evidence to put the wayward teacher out of a job where he was around the objects of his desire.
He packed his things up, giving a polite smile to teacher, then he was out.
Lunch was uneventful. So were the rest of John's classes. In anatomy they were told to take notes from the book. John found that a little odd, seeing as this was usually their homework, not classwork… but he was perfectly okay with it.
He suspected the teacher went out and got very, very drunk last night.
As John was waiting in front of the school for Sherlock to text him to take the bus or walk home, he felt a tap on his back.
It was Lestrade.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Lestrade!" John beamed. He felt slightly uncomfortable calling the D.I. by his first name. Sherlock couldn't even remember his name… But John refused to be impolite.
"How's it going, John?"
"Hanging in there, you?"
Lestrade leaned down to John's height and lowered his voice a little.
"I'm about to arrest one of your teachers. Want to help?"
John knew it was a little against the rules to do that… but rules are there to be broken, right?
"You know I do." John followed the D.I. into the building. John led the way to the classroom. John knew which teacher being arrested, of course.
This was a very informal arrest. John suspected Sherlock had told Lestrade it was one of John's teachers and the D.I. took it from there… most likely coming right over with a rag-tag team from the station as soon as he was told.
Scotland Yard was definitely not the best with handling it's employees… not that John was complaining.
He and Sherlock wouldn't be able to do what they do if it weren't for Lestrade.
John would have to think of some way to thank him for all the crap he's had to put up with.
The arrest went well. Mr. Bruce tried to run, but ultimately he was caught. He was handed off to the squad outside to be taken to the station.
Lestrade took John back to 221B. He really didn't see the reason Sherlock despised riding in police cars so much. Though, John suspected that he actually just liked not having to talk to the driver. That's a very Sherlock thing to do.
John didn't mind small talk. It was a nice break from having to try to keep up with his flatmate. Sherlock was smart and it made John's head hurt. Not that John was stupid, but Sherlock was on whole other level.
Lestrade was a little smarter than John, but give it a year or two and he would be on par or past him.
Not that John flaunted his intelligence like Sherlock did. John liked to dumb himself down to the public. He didn't know weather it was because he liked to surprise people with his smarts… or weather, deep down, he wanted to make his flatmate look even smarter. He supposed it was a bizarre mixture of both.
John got out of the car, waving to Lestrade as he drove away. He walked to the door, pulling out his key as he did so.
As he went to unlock the door, however, it flew open and he was pulled into a bone crushing hug.
"John! I saw that wicked teacher of yours on the telly! I'm so glad you're okay!" Ms. Hudson sniffled.
"It's alright now, Ms. Hudson. He's going away for a very long time. Sherlock made sure of that." John patted her back lightly.
"I'll have to thank him properly. I think I'll make some tea."
"Oh, would you like some help?" He offered. He looked up to Ms. Hudson like a mother. She practically was his mother with all the coddling she'd done.
"No dear, I think it'd be best if you went up there first. I'll be up in a few."
"Alright. Thank you, Ms. Hudson." John took the stairs two at a time. He was excited to tell Sherlock about the arrest.
Sherlock always seemed at least slightly interested when John spoke. John felt more than flattered. It was like when a cat willingly walks up to you and let's you pet it, despite being known to be a mean cat.
John grimaced at the poor analogy. Sherlock would not be happy to be compared to a cat.
As he reached the top of the staircase, John noticed something was off.
He crept closer and opened the slightly ajar door. He winced slightly at the creak it gave.
"Sherlock?" He called quietly. John worked his way around, checking all possible spots for someone to hide. When he'd almost made it to the kitchen someone grabbed his shoulder.
John's instincts kicked in and he dropped into a low roundhouse kick. Almost knocking the person to the ground… They kept their balance though, John popped back up, coming face to face with Sherlock.
"…I forgot to check behind the couch, didn't I?" John looked down.
Sherlock had been 'training' John since john had come to stay with him… After much begging from John, Sherlock agreed to help.
This was one of their training exercises. Sherlock would pretend to be an intruder and John would have to find him before Sherlock could reach him. John won only 38% of the time, but he was getting better.
"And under, and behind the door, and behind the curtains." Sherlock tutted.
"Oh, no way I forgot all of those!" John huffed.
"You did, and, what's more, you didn't even get up to the third floor this time." Sherlock went to a white board they had by the door and put a tally under his name… his tallies far outnumbered John's.
John grumbled under his breath.
Sherlock turned around. "So, how did the arrest go?"
John perked up. "It went great! He tried to run, but he didn't get far. Lestrade seemed very on the ball today. He tackled him so hard, I thought he was unconscious!"
Sherlock nodded. "I told him about it and gave him all the evidence. He said he'd take care of it… I may or may not have mentioned it was your teacher."
"Well, that lit a fire, I don't think I've ever seen him enjoy taking down a criminal that much!"
John was making both himself and Sherlock a sandwich. He wanted to thank Sherlock. It was very unsettling having such a creep like that teach students… But John couldn't bring himself to verbalize it. A sandwich would have to do.
"Oh, by the way, Ms. Hudson is coming up in a few minutes." He said as he set the plate down next to Sherlock.
"Not that I don't adore her, but what for?" Sherlock said, checking the papers for anything strange.
"To say thank you for keeping me safe." John blushed a little, glad his flatmate couldn't see.
"She doesn't need to thank me for something that I've sworn to do." Sherlock sounded slightly offended. John supposed it was because the world's only consulting detective thought Ms. Hudson didn't believe he could take care of John.
"You know her. She'd thank the person who invented sliced bread if she could. She's a kind soul." John stuffed his sandwich into his mouth after so he didn't continue yammering on. He didn't know how he was going to keep his pen pal a secret…
"You're right." Sherlock also took a bite, not really paying attention.
Not a moment later, there was a knock on the door. When Sherlock made no move to get up, John sighed and rose from his seat.
"Hello, Ms. Hudson! Sherlock is in by the fireplace if you'd like to speak with him." He said as he accepted the plate of goodies. She'd brought up scones to go along with the tea.
"Oh, that's alright dear, I know how he gets after a case. You just make sure he eats some of them and drinks his tea." She smiled then walked back down the stairs.
John carried the tray over to the table and handed Sherlock one of the cups.
"So how was your day…?" John knew Sherlock hated small talk, but he was genuinely invested in what the older man had to say.
"We've got another case. Four serial suicides. Obviously they're murders." Sherlock went quiet, looking through a case report Lestrade had probably given him earlier.
"Oh, really? How do you think it's done?"
"John, do you not read the papers?" Sherlock still didn't look up.
"Well, no… not so much." John looked down, feeling disappointed he hadn't done what Sherlock expected.
"You should pay attention."
Well, that was the end of that. John supposed it was more than he normally got from his flatmate. John glanced at the clock. It was nearly four.
"Is that really the time?" he muttered. He pulled out his schoolbag and went upstairs. "I'm going to do my homework. Holler if you should need me…" Not that you ever need me… John added mentally.
Sherlock didn't respond as John trudged up the stairs. Sherlock had moved over to the microscope and sat down. He wasn't moving for at least and hour.
John sighed as he shut his door. He knew his flatmate was a busy man… he didn't always have time to spare talking to a little kid, but it still stung a little.
John finished his homework relatively quickly. He had about an hour to kill before he had to go into work. John always chuckled a little when he called it that, but it was a fitting title.
All he had to do for 'work' was mop up some floors in the empty high school and just keep it tidy. They paid him fairly, so he couldn't complain. He also had the added advantage of knowing the school like the back of his hand.
He also got the school basically to himself. All but one or two other janitors, he was completely alone. It was peaceful, walking around in silence, not having to worry about all the gossip in the halls or the kids shoving each other.
It was also nice to get out of the flat for a while. Sherlock never cleaned his messes unless it suited him… so John was left to do it for him. The school's halls were never as bad as the flat and were actually very easy to clean.
And, finally, it just gave him time to think. About school, about Sherlock, about recent cases, everything. He could think about anything and there was no one to tell him he couldn't.
John decided to get ready for work then have dinner. That way he could leave right away. Sherlock knew he had a job, but never asked him about it. John assumed he already knew. Could smell the cleaners or something on his clothes when he got home.
He grabbed his bag and hopped down the stairs. Sherlock wasn't where he had been, so John assumed he left or had gone to his own room.
John walked to the fridge and opened it. He ignored the head and grabbed the milk. Cereal for dinner was always safe. He grabbed a disposable bowl and plastic spoon.
He ate quickly then set to look for Sherlock. He couldn't have left, his coat was on the rack. He could have been in the bathroom or his room, and if he were, John didn't want to bother him. He just decided to send a text saying he was leaving.
Left 4 work. B back later.
Text me if you need me.
-JW
He grabbed his coat as he pushed send, then walked out the door.
On his way down the stairs he decided to walk. It was a very pretty night and John wanted to appreciate it. It didn't happen nearly enough.
He'd take a cab back, seeing as it'd be too dangerous to walk, but for now he just wanted some fresh air.
John took his time walking to the school. It was a bit of a walk, but he'd left quite early, so he took the scenic route. He'd only been walking a minute or two when his phone started buzzing.
It was a text from Sherlock.
Been another one. Need you back here.
-SH
John sighed then texted back.
Can't. Going to work. And not close to home.
-JW
John didn't have to wait half a minute for the reply.
Could be dangerous.
-SH
"Oh, bloody hell." John started walking back when his phone buzzed again.
It was the address. John sighed and hailed a cab, glad he'd started carrying his gun everywhere.
When the cab had pulled up, he noticed police tape.
Then he noticed Donovan.
John didn't like her one single bit. She was just a very rude person. She also liked to insinuate that certain… arrangements were why he was allowed to live with Sherlock.
John tried to walk passed her, but she stopped him.
"Sorry, kid. You can't go in."
Lestrade had given him special permission. His rule was anytime both him and Sherlock were present, John could go in. Donovan just never listened.
"Is Lestrade in there…?" John tried to peer behind her, but she just shifted to block his gaze.
"Yes. Doing his job." She sneered.
John wouldn't admit he was scared of her… but he was.
"Is Sherlock here…?" John asked quieter.
"Yeah, your boyfriend is in there, you little freak."
John really didn't like her. "We aren't together, you know." He hated repeating himself every time… but he felt like he needed to.
"Sure." She smugly crossed her arms.
"We're just as much not together as you and Anderson are." John crossed his arms too as Donovan sputtered.
"I'll be going in now." He lifted the police tape and tried to duck under, only to be grabbed by the collar.
"Now, listen here you little asshole-" John ripped his collar from her hand, turning just his head to give her the glare he had learned from Sherlock.
"I would appreciate if you didn't touch me." He spat coldly.
John didn't let her say anything else. He walked up the stairs to where he suspected Sherlock and Lestrade were.
He opened the door to see a woman lying dead on the floor. She was dressed in an annoying shade of pink.
"Sorry I'm late… Donovan wouldn't let me in… again…" He explained in place of a greeting.
"I'll talk to her." Lestrade knew John didn't like her.
"Thank you…" John rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
Sherlock didn't acknowledge what John had said. He seemed to focused on the body. Suddenly he looked up.
"Well, John, what do you make of this?"
"O-Oh, um, let me have a look…" He knelt down.
"I'd say the cause of death was asphyxiation…"
"Oh, come now, John, we both know what this was." Sherlock reprimanded lightly.
John sighed. "You're right, it was poison. She may have been in the media based on her choice of… pink. Um, she's been in the rain recently… her collar is wet…" John reached into her pocket to find a dry umbrella. "So, she was recently somewhere rainy and windy… um… I-I guess that's all." John put the umbrella back, blushing, hoping he did good.
"Good."
"Really?"
"You missed almost everything important, but I didn't expect that much." John deflated slightly.
"That was good with the recently rainy and windy part." Lestrade chirped from behind them. Apologizing with his eyes.
Sherlock launched into his deductions… She was a news person, she was a serial adulterer, she was unhappily married, the word she was trying to scrape into the floor was Rachel… and she had a case that was missing.
Sherlock left the room, ranting about the suitcase. John walked down the stairs to find Sherlock gone. He sighed and looked at his phone. He only had fifteen minutes to get to work.
John sighed a final time before going back in to tell Lestrade he was leaving.
"Why are you in such a rush?"
"Well, I was on my way to work when Sherlock texted me the address and told me to meet him here… I was going to be really early. Now I'm going to be late."
"I can drive you, if you'd like?"
"That's okay, I know you're working right now."
"It would be no trouble. We're finished here anyways." Lestrade said taking the contamination apron off.
"Well… if it would be no trouble… I would really, really, appreciate it." John smiled.
"Let me just tell them I'm leaving." Lestrade smiled back.
"Thank you so much." Lestrade really was a good friend. John started to think he needed more friends his age… all of them were a lot older than he was.
When John got out of the car he was only a minute late. He said thank you to Lestrade for the hundredth time and walked in.
He said his hellos to the others then set off on his tasks for the night. John was usually early so the senior custodians let him slide for being a minute late.
He grabbed his mop and bucket then went up to the second floor.
He thought back on his day.
All in all it had been very eventful. He'd gotten a pen pal, he'd helped arrest a teacher, he'd learned of a serial killer, got to go to one of the crime scenes… John vaguely wondered if the teacher getting arrested would have any effect on the letters to the pen pals.
He wouldn't think so because he was pretty sure the letters were sent through the school, not the teachers… hopefully.
John had been really excited for the pen pal thing… He wondered if he really had helped put his away.
"It would make things interesting, that's for sure." He muttered under his breath.
When John was finished for the night he was tired. He almost wanted to text Sherlock and tell him he was spending the night at the school, but he persevered and went to catch a cab.
He picked up his phone and saw that he had nearly fifty notifications from Sherlock. All within the last five minutes.
John decided he should call Sherlock rather than read through all the texts then reply.
It only rang once before John heard Sherlock's frantic voice.
"John! Why didn't you answer any of my texts? Are you okay? You need to get home right now." He sounded frantic.
"Sherlock? I'm fine, I was working, I couldn't answer, plus I only just saw the texts. What's wrong?" Sherlock panicking was making John panic.
"Get home right now. I think I know who the killer is." Sherlock hung up.
"Okay…?" John put his phone in his pocket and went to try and catch a cab.
Right when he got in he could tell something was off. The cabbie didn't ask the address before he started driving.
"Oh, bloody hell…" John said, pulling out his phone.
"Put that away." Was all the cabbie had to say.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me where we're going?" John said, putting his phone away.
"No, but nice try."
"Who you are…?" John tried.
"A genius like that flatmate o' yours."
"So you're the one killing those people."
"Yes."
"That's not very nice."
"No, but I have my reasons."
John pulled his phone out slowly, hoping he could alert Sherlock to his most recent kidnapping.
"Give me your phone." John sighed and handed it up, just barely pushing send as he did. Now that Sherlock knew, he only had to wait.
They pulled up to a college building. The cabbie held a gun to John's head and walked him in.
When they were in a classroom, John spoke again. "What are those reasons?"
"The main one is to try to kill that Sherlock fellow." The cabbie said evenly.
"Oh… I can't say I approve of that."
"Good thing I don't care what you think."
John was tired. He wanted to go home. Wanted to curl up in bed and sleep. He also wanted to go because he knew he could get snappy when he was tired… he didn't think it was the best idea to sass a serial killer.
"So, what are the other reasons?"
"You know, you are very calm for getting kidnapped."
"What can I say, it happens a lot. Now, don't avoid the question."
The cabbie grinned, leaning forward. "I have a sponsor. They give me money every time I kill."
"Oh." John paused. He knew it was kind of insensitive, but so was kidnapping so it kind of balanced out. "So… estranged father…? I mean, you are doing this for your kids… right?" He had noticed a picture of two boys. It was a vacation picture and the left side was ripped… like someone had been cut out. John assumed it was the mother.
"Hanging around that Sherlock is rubbing off, isn't it. Yes, it's for my kids."
John paused again, knowing this was a really touchy subject. "How long do you have to live…?"
The cabbie's eyes widened slightly. "I won't lie, I didn't think you'd get that. I suppose we can thank Sherlock for that as well." The cabbie smiled. "I had an aneurysm. Any second could be my last."
John tried not to be offended. Not all his smarts were from Sherlock. "Oh… I'm sorry. Is it scary?"
The cabbie looked taken aback. "I suppose it was in the beginning… but I've accepted it now."
"Oh…"
"Enough stalling. You and I are going to play a game." He pulled out two pill bottles. "One of these contains poison. The other doesn't."
"That… doesn't sound like much of a game…"
"Here's the fun part. You pick whichever… and I take the other one."
"That… That seems a little unfair."
"That's life."
"What if I were to just get up and leave…?"
The cabbie sighed. "Ah, the unseen third option... I shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, none of the others went for that."
John eyed the gun up and down… it was fake. If it were real it would have a larger barrel. If it were a real gun, no bullets would be able to get through.
"What if I win… can I just leave?"
"Yes." The cabbie smiled again, putting the gun down.
"I'll… I'll choose the gun, please." John hoped he wasn't wrong.
The cabbie was shocked. "You keep surprising me. Are you sure?"
"Yes, please…"
"Phone a friend?"
"You took my phone… but yes I'm sure."
The cabbie pulled the trigger only for there to be a flame come out the end. John smiled.
"I knew it!" He laughed, getting up. "You're right. That was pretty fun." Oh no. Here came the adrenaline junkie in him.
"The others were outsmarted by a kid. I'm impressed. I'm sure my sponsor will be too."
"Oh yeah, who is that, by the way?" John was standing behind his chair like he was gossiping.
"There's a name no one says. I'm not going to say it either."
"Oh, come on!" John pouted. He knew he should just ask for his phone and leave, but he was really curious.
"No." He seemed adamant.
"I wish I didn't have to do this." John sighed pulling out his gun.
"Oh, come now." The cabbie waved him off.
John sighed and forced himself to put the gun away. "You're right. Can I have my phone back please?" Once John left, he knew the cabbie would be going to jail for a very long time. Maybe they'd be pen pals. That would be funny.
"Sure." This was definitely one of the better kidnappings John had been apart of.
He looked out the window, seeing Sherlock running to it. John left the cabbie sitting there, wanting to go meet Sherlock.
John got to the room he had seen Sherlock in only to find Sherlock was now sitting where he had sat not ten minutes ago. He saw the cabbie hold the fake gun to him.
Sherlock had chosen the same as him… John was proud he was the first though… He hoped the cabbie was bragging about him… John almost laughed. What a ridiculous thought.
The flame shot out of the gun's barrel. Sherlock didn't flinch. He stood and went to walk out… but paused… the cabbie was saying something.
Sherlock went and sat back down. He picked up a bottle and looked it up and down.
John panicked, pulling his gun from his belt. He wouldn't fire until he was sure Sherlock was going to make a stupid mistake.
Sherlock pulled out a pill and brought it to his face. Suddenly John couldn't take it and lined up his shot. He hit the cabbie dead on.
He then ducked out of the way. Sherlock didn't know he had a gun and he'd be damned if he let his flatmate take it from him.
He went and waited near Lestrade's police car, trying to act as shaken as possible.
Lestrade walked over, putting a blanket around John's shoulders.
"Are you okay?"
John looked up and made his eyes water a little. "Yeah, just a little in shock…"
"We're going to get Sherlock right now." Lestrade looked the John up and down.
Sherlock came over right then with a blanket around his shoulders as well. Lestrade said he'd be back in a few minutes for their statements.
John sat up a little straighter. "Hi, Sherlock."
"Hello, John. Are you okay?"
"I'm just in shock a little." John gestured to the blanket around his shoulders. "Are you…?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well you were just in a life or death situation…"
"So were you. Yet you aren't shaking, your speech isn't impaired, and you have pride written all over your face."
" …I hate when you do that."
"You know, he talked highly of you."
"He did?" John was really happy to hear that. Sure, he shot the man, but it was still nice to hear the cabbie hadn't hated him.
"Yes. He said I did a good job training you."
Oh… John wasn't as happy to hear that bit.
"Well, you did…"
"Even if I were to try to take credit, you were the one who made the deductions. I'm proud of you."
John blushed. He was really happy to make Sherlock proud of him…
"Good shot."
John jumped a bit. "Uh… yeah, must've been, from that distance…"
"You would know." Sherlock gave him a pointed look.
" … Please don't take my gun." John begged.
"How did you even get one?"
"It's not that hard…"
"I won't take it for now. You did just save my life."
John blushed again. He wasn't used to getting this much praise from his flatmate.
"Are you okay?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you did just kill a man."
" …Well he wasn't a very nice man…"
"No, I suppose not."
"And, frankly, he was a bloody awful cabbie. You should have seen the route he took to get us here!" John giggled. He was so tired.
Sherlock laughed too. "Stop. We can't giggle at a crime scene."
Lestrade walked back over. "So, about the shooter. We don't know anything about him, care to fill us in on all the things we've missed?" He asked sarcastically.
"I don't know."
"What? You don't know something? It's the end of the world!"
"Actually, no. John and I are both in shock, look we've got blankets." Sherlock shook the blanket around his shoulders.
"Blankets." John nodded and shook his too.
"Okay… well, I'll let you go. But you have to come in first thing tomorrow, Sherlock."
"Got it."
Both Sherlock and John walked away with their stolen blankets.
Once they were home John remembered something the cabbie had said.
"Oh yeah, Sherlock…"
"Yes, John?"
"Did you get to find out the name of the cabbie's 'sponsor'…?"
"Moriarty."
" …Do you know who that is?
"I have no idea. Could be dangerous. You ready?
"Always."
John smiled. This should be interesting.
How was it...? Too much rambling? Too much dialogue...? Not enough..?
Do you want so see more or should I give up on this one and go back to my other ones for good...?
Let me know...
Sorry for all grammar and spelling mistakes...
Have a nice day!