Geoff stooped to enter the café and found Scott waiting for him, the chess game already set up. The elegant setting of the pieces becoming to be tested by his strategy and tactics, the game of skill that had drawn him to joining the chess club had tested him in every plain of thinking, yet the secret, the secret to winning had eluded him for so long. Now, here to play against him was Pete, a friend and opponent, whom he frequently played against in his chess society. He settled at the table, and greeted his friend, before making the starting move.
About half an hour into the game, he found himself winning, an anomaly that was not at all frequent in its occurrence, he moved his knight to take his queen, before having his own bishop taken by Pete. He moved his queen to check Pete and realized with a jolt that he had to opportunity of checkmate, if John overlooked it of course…
"Geoff, would you mind going to get us some coffee" mumbled Pete, his voice was going with his winter cold and he passed over a crumpled five pound note with a firm, steady hand. Geoff took it and walked over to the counter, waiting for service. He got two large double espressos, bringing them swiftly back to the table, for fear of burning his battered hands. Pete moved his bishop to take one of Geoff's pawns, and satisfied smile spread across Geoff's tired face. In one swift motion, the swept his queen into check mate, picking up his coffee cup, he mumbled a string of words, from the could be picked out "farewell" and "see you next week at chess group", he swallowed the dregs of his coffee, before packing his coat and standing, Pete stood too, reaching over to shake his hand, Geoff gasped, his frail hands turning into claws, scratching at the air, before collapsing, his body sent into spasm and his ribs heaving, in only seconds the gasping stopped and the spasms turned into twitches, they turned into a ghostly stillness, echoed throughout the café.
Sherlock was bored. His mind was placid, too placid, it had had its rest and now it was hyperactive, responding to even the smallest of stimuli. His fingers twitched and his feet tapped, he knew his was irritating John but he couldn't help it; he was so sick and tired of the endless dullness of London. True, he had had a case this morning, but that was all of 5hours and 36 minutes ago and now his intellect was primed for yet another. He paced around the flat, attempting to purposefully walk nowhere. John sighed and folded his paper wearily, turning to address the detective, currently pouting and sitting cross-legged on the sofa, zealously examining a microscope slide that he had found under a cushion, he grinned and poked the detective with his disused crutch, causing Sherlock to jump.
"Sherlock, cheer up, you only had a case this morning, surely you can't be this bored, this quickly" John beseeched, passing him a microscope and yawning.
"Nonsense John, boredom attacks me when I am vulnerable; the only time it can reach me is when I have nothing to use my mind for" Sherlock lamented, flopping on the sofa and fiddling with his treasured violin, plucking a few random strings before giving a loud groan of annoyance, this boredom was inescapable, his violin needed tuning and he had to get that done professionally, he had deleted that knowledge a long time ago. The frustration was getting so bad that he was just reaching for his gun when his phone beeped with a text alert.
"Murder, Chess player, 54, killed in café
Come to St Bart's ASAP
Lestrade"
"John! It's Lestrade; we have a case" John gave an absent minded smile as the Detective rushed to get his coat before shouting "Sherlock!"
"What?" he replied, somewhat impatiently.
"Get dressed" John said, without even looking up, Sherlock groaned and ran upstairs, shoving on his suit, before hurriedly buttoning his coat and hastily knotting his scarf with finger, now shaking from anticipation. Then he dragged the baffled blogger out the door and into the first cab they could hail.