Toast. I want toast
-SH
Um no, come get it yourself
-JW
But I can't John
-SH
Yes you can
-JW
I'm busy John
-SH
Fine no toast for you then
-JW
It was a normal day in 221B and although I was annoyed at the way Sherlock acted, I always felt inclined to stay. There was something about that man... I was standing in the kitchen waiting for the kettle, when there was a loud crash from the other room. What had Sherlock done now? I thought to myself. I wandered into his bedroom, partially opening the door.
"Sherlock?" No response. I opened the door a bit further.
"Sherlock?" I called a bit louder this time. Once again there was no response so I decided to walk in. To my surprise, Sherlock wasn't in his room. I looked around and noticed that the window was shattered. I quickly walked over and examined the window. There was a small trace of blood on one of the sharp edges of the glass still stuck in the window pane. I looked down at the pile of glass and found a note.
Dearest John H. Watson,
I am sorry if I have worried you, but I need to borrow Sherlock from you for a while, I'm sure you don't mind. Please don't tell anyone about this or come looking for him. If you disobey I can no longer promise the safety of your dear Sherlock.
Sincerely,
M
Mycroft? Who else would want Sherlock? But this was so unlike Mycroft. If he really wanted Sherlock, he would just come and get him, no problem.
M? I thought it over. As hard as I tried I was unable to come up with anymore names. I decided it would probably best to just call Mycroft.
"Hello?" Mycroft answered after the second ring.
"Hi, um, yes, I was just calling to um, ask if you had heard from Sherlock at all." For some reason I struggled to get the words out.
"No, why? What has he done now? Shall I come over and talk to him?"
"No!" I responded a little too quickly. "I was just wondering"
"Yes, well then, just call me if you need anything else." He hung up without a goodbye, typical Holmes.
I stood in the middle of the room, holding the note, unsure of what to do. I was considering calling Lestrade when suddenly my cell phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi!" The voice from the other end sang out the word a little too happy.
"Who is this?"
"Oh that doesn't matter, what matters is that your precious Sherlock is here and if you even think about getting anyone else involved, I will burn him, burn the heart out of him."
His voice had taken on a scarier tone than before and it sent shivers up my spine. I pulled myself together, putting on my military face.
"Well I have been reliably informed that he doesn't have a heart." I managed to get the words out in a serious matter of fact tone, trying not to let him get to me.
"Well I guess we'll find out won't we?" and with that he hung up the phone, leaving me completely and utterly lost and confused. How would I ever rescue Sherlock?
