Sherlock's voice cracked as he comprehended the words his flat mate had just said. "John?"
Watson merely shook his head, drained of all his rage and energy. A moment before the good doctor had been seething, his face red and sweat beading on his forehead as he screamed at Sherlock. He was livid, for Sherlock had been missing for a week, and just now returned with no explanation.
Sherlock shuddered as John's voice echoed back in his thoughts. "No, Sherlock! This is the last time! I will not be treated like rubbish then be expected to take care of you anymore! I just can't! Find someone else to be your skull, I'm finished."
Sherlock felt sick to his stomach. He could feel panic seizing his heart in a frenzied grip and he scrambled to appease John. "Please, John. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Give me one more night, I beg of you."
"One more night? Are you kidding me, Sherlock?" John shouted, unbelievable. He let out a breathlessly cruel laugh. "If you hadn't been gone for a week, you would've had several nights." The man turned to go up the stairs when Sherlock grabbed his arm and turned him around.
"John, I'm begging you. How many chances in a lifetime do you get to see me beg?" The detective smirked, but quickly wiped it off of his face when he saw that John was not amused. "Look, John. I know I made an error, but if you leave, who will I have to help keep me in line? One night. I'll make it up to you. Please?" Sherlock was seriously considering getting on his knees and pleading, but the blogger responded just as he was lowering himself.
"Ugh, Sherlock, I..." John looked up at the man. "Wait, what were you just about to do?"
Sherlock looked around uncomfortably. "I don't know what you're talking about. What do you say?" he asked looking John in the eyes.
John sighed, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment. He rapidly straightened making him appear strong and confident. "Fine, but just one night, and if this isn't the best night of my life," he paused for effect and looked deep into the detectives eyes. Sherlock could feel his stare penetrate deep into his soul, reading his secrets," I will leave, and never come back. You won't have anyone to fix you. Are we clear?"
Sherlock nodded, war and unsure, a feeling he did not experience often.
"Great. So what do you have planned for me?" John turned around, smiling to himself and pretending to look through the mail, leaving a flustered Sherlock behind him.
Sherlock faltered. How did one go about apologizing to his best friend? "Well, I thought I'd let you loose in London." he smirked. "We could have a night out."
John smiled to himself at that, and settled in with the paper for a few hours before going out with Sherlock to solve a case. It seemed difficult to John, and to Lestrade, who had asked the two to come have a look. A mother had been found murdered by her two children during their household game of hide and go seek. She had supposedly been kilometers away at an event for her office firm, and the children's governess denied ever having known that she was in the house. It was not a particularly hard case, but Sherlock was interested, so they took a cab to the Yard.
Sherlock, undoubtedly, loved impressing John. He loved the look of utter astonishment that crept onto his friend's face whenever after solving a seemingly impossible case. He wore a mask of emotionless indifference, instead of letting on that he already had a concrete idea of who the murderer was as they stepped out of the car and into the bustling crime scene. Sherlock lifted the police tape for John, Lestrade gave them the basic information about the case, and after an exchange of contumely between Sherlock and Anderson, and then between Sherlock and Donovan, the detective and the blogger made their way into the flat and up the stairs to the room where the body was.
It was a small flat, but lavishly furnished with posh décor, the type one would expect to see in a magazine. The tables were glass, the seating white leather and plastic, and the floors were grey tile with snowy fur throws. It all looked very expensive, very unlived in, and untouchable.
All the while, Sherlock was making mental notes, appearing to be merely gazing around. Sherlock immediately noticed the governess who was being questioned outside. She had an extremely red face and red eyes, which could be from the previous events, but it appeared to be from the temperature of her face and irritation. Her nails were bitten to stubs, most likely from nervousness. Her eyes were dilated and she looked incredibly sick. She was wearing a necklace that looked to be pure gold with diamonds. Sherlock averted his attention back to the light wooden door in front of him. It opened to reveal the rather disheveled bedroom of the murder victim and her spouse. Sherlock took in everything. There was an air purifier in the corner, currently running. The body was slumped in the opposite corner. The woman was dressed in a calf length green satin dress. Her black and green scarf was draped over her mouth, her left arm holding it in position while her right arm clutched her stomach. Her purse was lying next to her. All of the contents were splayed out on the floor, but one key thing was missing from the pile. Anderson walked into the room to presumably tell him the cause of death, but Sherlock already knew.
"Gas leak," Sherlock said as Anderson opened his mouth. "She must've been inhaling it for at least an hour for it to have fatal effects. She noticed the presence of gas in the room before her death, attempting to create a mask with her scarf and hoping someone would find her. Therefore, she was trapped in here, meaning locked in, because she let herself in the room. She came back here to retrieve her forgotten phone, but it wasn't present. Subsequently, she is murdered. By whom you ask? Judging by the rate at which that air purifier is working and when you put it in here, she would've been dead for three hours, but she came into the house at one and was dead by three and was found at four and now it is nine, so the times don't coincide. No one else was affected by the leak, except for the governess. The leak was only in this room because it had a gas line separate from the rest of the building, as it was originally part of the original structure. But the children were the ones to find the body, and they haven't been poisoned at all, so the room was aired out, the gas turned off, and the door unlocked directly after she was killed. The husband wasn't home; he was still at the work event. He had her phone When she came in to the house looking for the phone, she went to the only place it might be. Upon entering her bedroom, she noticed the smell, although she didn't know that it was gas she smelled until later. She heard her door close and lock. Connecting the dots, she searched for her phone everywhere, but it wasn't there because, again, her husband had it. So, who closed the door? The governess." Sherlock paused and looked around at startled and questioning faces.
"The governess closed the door and locked it, counting down the seconds to her employer's death. She turned on the leak, and as a result was exposed to the gas as well. She turned it on after the woman and her husband left for the event, giving the gas time to pervade the room before the woman came back looking for her phone. After she died, the governess turned off the leak and unlocked the door, making it look like an accident. She is now suffering from gas poisoning, showing symptoms of nausea, nervousness, fever, and irritation. She killed the woman because she was having an affair with the woman's husband. She loves him and believes that he loves her back. He gave her the necklace she is wearing. In all actuality, he has a string of lovers and simply used the governess, knowing she would kill his wife for him."
Sherlock sighed and took in a breath. He turned and started for the door, knowing John would follow. "Oh, come on Lestrade, even Anderson could've gotten that one." he shouted over his shoulder before exiting the scene.