Despite the fact i rarely finish fanfics... im starting a new one on Sherlock!
Recently got addicted to the amazing Show and now i can't get enough! didn't really want to rewrite a scene or do an alternative ending because it was too good to spoil so i wrote this instead.
Enjoy an let Cumberbatch rule the world!
blood murderer
Chapter l
"Bored!"
"sorry?" John said in reply to his friends cry.
"Bored! I'm bored john. I need something new." Sherlock shouted, almost spilling the tea he was holding in a dainty cup and saucer.
"You mean a case?" john replied, calmly sipping his own tea while reading the daily paper in his armchair. Sherlock sprung up from his own chair, cup still in hand, and paced in front of the fireplace, muttering to himself.
"A case, a case, a case…"
John sighed at Sherlock and turned the page of his newspaper. The week that had just past had been an incredibly dull time on the crime front in London, but Sherlock was having none of that. Through video chat, the pair had solved a mind boggling murder in Australia and theft of a diamond necklace in Brazil. Not to mention the strange case of sixteen poisoned monkeys in a French zoo. However, all had been concluded and filed along with the rest and the world's only consulting detective was back to pacing and drinking mrs Hudson's excellent tea, resisting a cigarette.
"Though I mustn't complain," John sighed again, folding the paper neatly in two, "It's a personal best after all."
Sherlock turned round."Personal best?"
"Well," John said, turning his wrist to look at his watch, "It's been a whole three hours since the poisoned…"
"Tranquilised," Sherlock interrupted, " the monkey's were simply tranquilised and unconscious ,I'm surprised they didn't notice the feet."
"Ok then, it's been three hours since the tranquilised monkey's and you haven't broken anything"
"Oh!" Sherlock cried, checking his own watch " you count?"
"Well I can get bored too" John said, rising from his chair and taking his empty cup into the kitchen ,which was currently occupied by a particularly gruesome looking experiment, and placed it into the sink. As he did so, he gagged at what was lying there.
"Why the hell is there a dead frog in our sink!" he shouted, closing his eyes and turning away.
"There isn't." replied Sherlock, not really paying attention and still pacing the living just stared at his insane flat mate. He thought he'd seen it all from Sherlock Holmes, but sometimes he did some questionable things that.
"So what is…" John started, attempting to look back at the rotting, brown animal, but stopping after feeling the vomit building up in his throat.
"A toad." he explained, simutaneous with John's fed up sighs.
"Of course, you idiot." He cursed under his breath and he slammed the cup and saucer on the strangly tinged green worktop. Sometimes, he wondered how he tolerated this madman and pondered over the fact if he was becoming one as well.
Sherlock was still vigorously striding up and down the room, so John took care in seating himself back down with the fear that his friend might suddenly explode with impatience.
"Want to watch some TV?" John asked. He knew it was a poor attempt to calm Sherlock down as he always shouted at the people on the screen. He didn't answer, but didn't sit down in his chair either. He was still rapidly gulping at his cup of tea, though John thought the cup must be empty by now.
John rose the newspaper to cover his face and once again, the two were quiet. They could hear Mrs Hudson pottering around downstairs and the odd taxi whirring past. The soft, industrial sounds of London was their backing track most of the time, but now, on a Sunday morning, there were only a few cars in the city symphony.
"Theft of a painting in a gallery?" read John from the paper, trying to grab Sherlock's interest with something.
"Boring." replied Sherlock blankly.
"Missing woman in Greenwich?" tried John again.
"She's an adulterer who ran away from her actual husband."
"Oh."
How did he do it?
Suddenly, Mrs Hudson burst through the door with the vaccum cleaner and there was a smash on the back wall. John jolted his head round to see what had happened and saw the cup and saucer lying on the floor in twelve broken pieces.
"Sherlock!" complained Mrs Hudson and plodded into the kitchen.
"Three hours and twenty three minutes." remarked John heavily.
"Oh yes," said Sherlock as if he had just noticed he had sent the china he was holding a few seconds ago ,flying across the room,"sorry about that!"
"Really Sherlock, you never learn!" sighed Mrs Hudson, plugging the vaccum into the mains in the kitchen. "that's the third cup this week!"
"Oh Mrs Hudson!" started John, remembering his little animal encounter earlier. Unfortunately, she was one step ahead ahead of him.
A piercing scream arose from the other room and Sherlock looked up. He strode to towards Mrs Hudson and for one unreal moment, John thought he was going to help her. Alas, he stopped outside the kitchen and swung the doors tightly shut, blocking off the woman's ghastly scream with a bang. He turned round with his back to the door and took a deep breath.
"I need a case!" He shouted over the prolonged scream from behind him.
"wha..why..who?" Mrs Hudson quivered, shakily walking through the other door back into the living room. Sherlock was busily prancing round the room, throwing around bits of paper and chucking heavy hardbacks over his shoulder. She let out a slow whine and quickly rushed back down the stairs.
"Come on Sherlock," calmed John "you can't expect a new mystery to fly through the window."
"argh!" he moaned and without warning lost all strength and flopped on the floor. At that exact moment, there was a sharp smash and a picture frame fell off the wall. Now this was cause for Sherlock to look up.
There was something stuck in the glass frame of the picture, blue and golden. Sherlock scrambled up for a closer look. He pulled out the object and inspected it closely.
"What is that!" exclaimed John, amazed that a case really did fly through the window. He got up out of his chair and left his paper on the seat, though he didn't walk over to the now occupied detective.
What Sherlock was holding was long and thin, with a single blue feather attached to the end. the body was a shiny golden metal and a spike was pushing out of the front end of it where it had smashed the glass of the frame.
"A dart?" Sherlock mumbled, slightly confused by its random entrance. "A dart." he said, louder this time so John could hear.
Sherlock stood up with the golden dart still in his hands and strode over to his messy desk. He carefully placed the dart down on the tea-stained surface where John had a chance to examine it himself. Sherlock glided over to the window to look at where his strange new case had made its unexpected entrance. Slowly, he circled the neat break in the glass with his finger and hummed quietly.
"Interesting." He remarked and reached out for his coat "come on John, we're going out."
Whooooo!
next chapter will be out right after this so the suspense isnt enough to kill me by!
see you soon Xx