"27 hours?" asked Mike with an obvious tone of shock in his voice, "Are you serious? You haven't slept for 27 hours?."
Sherlock hummed in response as he typed away at the computer.
It wasn't too unusual to not sleep for so long but Lestrade had given him a series of small cases to keep him 'amused', but nothing seemed as interesting as the three serial suicides that had occurred.
"Well, anyway, how was the flat mate search going?"
"No such luck." Sherlock sighed, then looked away from the interview video feed that played on his computer only to pull out his phone and quickly text the word 'wrong', "Who in their right mind would want me for a flat mate."
Mike laughed and shrugged, "There's someone for everyone, Sherlock." He glanced down at his watch. "I've got to go, but I suppose I'll see you later." Mike continued with a small smile, "That's if you haven't completely died from exhaustion."
"Talk to you later." Sherlock mumbled as he was texted the word 'wrong' again.
"See ya."
'There's someone for everyone.'
Sherlock knew he wasn't an easy person to deal with, and he certainly couldn't see anyone wanting to be his flat mate, let alone his friend, but the idea of being alone wasn't an intriguing one. It wasn't as though he hadn't tried, people were just… difficult.
'Wrong'
'You know where to find me. - SH'
Sherlock stared triumphantly at his computer screen knowing it wouldn't be too much longer before Lestrade came to him for help with the three serial suicides case.
Sherlock stood on the side of the street with the phone to his ear while he kept an eye out for a taxi. He was heading to Scotland yard to fill out some papers regarding another case, then would do a loop back to Bart's. It was certainly a hassle, but there was nothing he could do about it.
'Should it be expected that you'll be moving in then?' Mrs. Hudson asked from down the phone.
"Of course," Sherlock smiled, "If it's alright with you, I'll have my things sent over, and I'll come by tomorrow."
'That's fine dear, I'll see you then. Take care of yourself.'
"You to," Sherlock replied with a small pause when he hailed a taxi, "Talk to you tomorrow."
Sherlock checked his phone one more time for any missed calls or messages -hoping for an interesting case- before putting it into his pocket and getting into the taxi.
He was sure that when he returned to Bart's he would need to check the bruising on a corpse, that he would manipulatively get from Molly.
Sherlock closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window. Considering how long it had been since he had slept, he thought even just a few minutes would help.
Quiet, calm, peaceful…
It couldn't have been more that three minutes before it happened. It was almost like a dream when the taxi drove through at the green lights and then the drunk driver drove through the red light hitting Sherlock's side of the taxi.
… Isn't it hateful
