The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I would have met the gorgeous Benedict Cumberbatch and the absolutely loveable Martin Freeman.
It had been a quiet couple of months and this just about drove the Consulting Detective insane. Though Carter was rather amusing to be around, he was getting too restless for her liking and had forbade him from going to work with her.
"Sherlock, please? You've done nothing but insult each and every person that has come to me for help. You don't even like technology all that much! I need to concentrate on my work and you," she poked him in the chest, "need to go and get a job yourself. Relying on your brother and John is absolutely ghastly."
"I do work. I solve cases that those incompetent people down in Scotland Yard can't; which is practically every single case they've ever gotten."
"Why not work on some cold cases then. It'll be more challenging if you have only what's in the file to go on."
He paused and thought about it then promptly got frustrated with himself for never thinking about that before.
"Cold cases? Cold cases?! Why have I never thought of that? See!" He exclaimed, causing Carter to jump at the sudden explosion of sound. "I need something stimulating for my brain or else this happens."
"My God Sherlock, what's next? The way I'm standing is at too much of a particular angle and, as such, it is affecting your brain's capacity to process information?"
"Yes, actually, now that you mention it. If you'd kindly just shift four degrees to the right then m-" He ducked just in time but had no time nor space to miss the second or third book that was lobbed at his head. "What the bloody hell was that woman?! Are you trying to kill me?"
"Out Sherlock. You're pissing me off. Go! Go annoy John or your brother or even Lestrade; just stop bothering me!" Carter was about to start pulling her own hair out when she saw the look on Sherlock's face. He was doing this to get a rise out of her; to gain a new source of entertainment. She launched herself over the table and crashed into the Detective.
"You bloody bugger! That's it. No, no fair! Get off of me!"
The two wrestled for bit before Sherlock pinned Carter to the ground, straddling the woman and smiling down at her.
"Now this, this is fun."
"Oh come off it you bloody git. Physical anything is a form of torture for you. Now, get off before someone comes in here and sees us."
"What's wrong with that Carter?" He said, leaning down, hovering over form. A completely sinful grin stretched across his face. "Do you think they'd get the wrong impression?"
"Oh sod off. You're going to get me fired."
"Good. Then you can assist me with more cases."
"Sherlock! You can't just go and sabotage people's career's to suit your own wants and needs."
"I certainly can Carter."
"I'm going to wipe that smug smirk off of your face you-"
"Bloody Hell! Uh, I mean, I was just…..I've clearly interrupted something. I'll just, uh….. That's completely unprofessional you know." John said before making himself scarce.
Carter looked completely horrified at the moment and Sherlock could not stop the laughter that had escaped him. She was red-faced and her eyes were wide, hair all over the place and this would be a memory he kept.
"You're looking a little pink, darling. What could possibly be the matter?"
She glared up at him, knowing full well that she could try her best to get him back but he'd return it tenfold. He stood up and held a hand to her, helping her back up.
"We best be going."
Carter's face twitched as Sherlock smiled at her innocently. He then smirked as her phone sounded.
"Hello? Oh sod off! I don't care who you are, I will hurt you next time I see you if you even think of saying anymore on this matter. Good day to you Sir." She rounded on Sherlock. "Don't even think of starting Sherly because you will be introduced to a world of pain and humiliation."
John had not been able to look at the two as they had gone to catch up with him, much to Sherlock's amusement, and when Mrs Hudson was informed of the compromising position the Doctor had found them in, she had cornered him and Carter separately to ask about each other's intentions.
"Now I don't want you to be just fooling around with that girl, Sherlock."
"She's not a girl, Mrs Hudson."
"Be quiet you. It's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking to you." He rolled his eyes but remained seated. "What are your intentions?"
"My intentions Mrs Hudson? Whatever do you mean?"
"Don't go giving me the innocent act Sherlock, you know very well what I mean."
"My intentions are honourable. I wish only for her happiness and I believe I can be the source of it." He said, adding a wistful sigh as he cast a glance out the window. Carter was going to kill him when Mrs Hudson talked to her.
Of course, the Landlady caught the smile that played upon his lips and truly believed his words. Knowing that Mrs Hudson had caught the look, Sherlock smirked inwardly. Carter was going to murder him.
"You best not go breaking her heart then. Oh," she thought to add just before Sherlock exited her kitchen, "please keep the noise down to a minimum. I'd rather not hear of your exploits and I'm sure John would do well not to hear the two of you as well."
"I can't make any promises there, Mrs Hudson, though it seems we've been quiet enough so far." With a smile, he was gone and Mrs Hudson stood in her kitchen, gaping at the door before preparing herself to catch Carter on her way in.
Oh yes, he did not hear a word from the linguistic extraordinaire for a good week after that stunt. He couldn't possibly go and invade her apartment though, not now. He had been in the proverbial dog house and had despised every second of it. His lesson had been learnt and John had been lumped with an irritable, bored and brooding Sherlock. The Detective would have much rathered Carter try to end his existance with a kitchen knife then ignore him completely.
"I've never liked you." Sherlock said suddenly, eyes narrowing at the smiley face on the wall. "Something must be done about you."
Shots had been fired and the face still continued to smile, much to Sherlock's chagrin. It wasn't long before John came barging through the door.
"What the bloody Hell are you doing?"
"I'm bored John. Bored, bored, bored. I need a case."
John looked at the wall and then at Sherlock, eyes narrowing as he spotted his gun.
"That's my gun!"
"Yes, yes very good John. It's amazing that you came to that conclusion."
"Put the gun down Sherlock. My God you've been nothing but a pain the last few weeks. Is Carter not speaking with you again?"
"Of course she is." John gave him a look when Sherlock seemed as if he wouldn't continue. "But she won't allow me to accompany her at work or to the shopping centres and she hasn't been all too enthusiastic about joining me on cases."
"She was with you all yesterday! She can't be by your side every waking moment Sherlock. She's an independent woman. Oh, and speaking of independence, you're going to be on your own tonight. I'm staying at Sarah's."
"What? Why on Earth would you do that?"
"Because you're being exasperating! I can't take any more of your moods. You shot the wall for no good reason!"
"I had a perfectly good reason John."
"Okay, let's hear it then."
"I didn't like the way it looked at me."
"Oh for God's sake Sherlock. Look, I'll see you tomorrow. Try not to blow up the apartment okay?"
''
Carter returned home during the early evening and went upstairs to see what the two men were up to.
"Sherlock, John? Are you two home?"
"Oh good. You're here."
"John's at Sarah's isn't he?" She questioned, looking at the state of the kitchen. "He's not coming back 'til tomorrow then?"
"Yes. It seems that Doctor Watson much prefers the company of the less intelligent. I do not blame him, however, as he is unable to fully appreciate the brilliant mind that I possess."
"How modest you are, Sherlock. Now, what are you experimenting on this time?"
She spent the evening listening and assisting Sherlock with his various experiments, honestly enjoying herself. She found his work fascinating, truly she did, and she did feel a little guilty about ignoring the genius for a little over a week.
"Do you two need anything from the shops by the way? I'm going early so I'll be back by eight."
"No, I think whatever you buy will be fine for us."
"That's right; I forgot that you two are unable to look after yourselves. I've the day off tomorrow so if you get a case, I'll help."
He nodded and said a quick 'Goodnight' to her as she made her way to apartment downstairs.
''
Sherlock paused in his playing as he let out a frustrated sigh. The morning was proving to go by too slowly for his liking, despite the fact that he knew time hadn't changed its pace.
"Why must it all be so boring?!"
He was pushed to the ground by the force of what had to have been an explosion and couldn't help but think that he may have jinxed himself before he stumbled to the broken window. His thoughts were muddled and he was feeling disoriented. A knock sounded at the still-closed door a few minutes later as Mrs Hudson ran into the apartment and began fretting over Sherlock.
"Oh dear. I hope you aren't too hurt. Do you feel any pain Sherlock?" She rambled on, giving the man a quick check over. "Lucky John and Carter weren't here. I suppose that's something."
"What time is it?"
"Pardon?"
"What time is it Mrs Hudson?"
"A little over eight. Why?"
Sherlock was a flurry of movement as he all but flew down the stairs of 221 Baker Street. There was rubble from the apartment building across the street, rubble from the apartments next door to his and he watched as passers-by called out for help. His mind was moving at an incredible speed as he processed the scene in front of him. That's when he spotted her. He ran to her side and kneeled down. Carter was staring blankly at some of the bricks that surrounded her, a cut on her forehead bled, as did the various other lacerations to her person.
"Carter? Carter. Talk to me; now woman!" He demanded, hands frantically moving over her.
She turned to look at him, eyes forlorn and he worried for a moment that she might be seriously injured.
"My groceries; they're under there." She said and Sherlock had never been happier to hear such a stupid sentence in his whole life.
"I'll get you new groceries. Come with me." He guided her to one of the paramedic's and waited as she was checked over and cleaned up.
"She should be fine; just a bit of shock is all. That, and she just lost all her shopping to the pile of rubble over there." The man said with a laugh. "Other than that, she's good to go."
Sherlock held onto her as he helped her to his apartment. She wasn't fit enough to be alone right now he decided and set her down onto his bed.
"Sorry Sherlock. I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting that to happen." She attempted to get up and leave but was stopped.
"You're staying here and that's that."
She conceded with little more than a half-hearted protest about being in his sanctuary. It wasn't too long after that Mycroft turned up at the apartment.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm checking to see if my brother is alive and well after an apartment building blew up."
"Oh how gallant of you. Would you like me to award you with a medal, brother dearest?"
Mycroft half sneered at his brother.
"Well it seems you're alright. Where is Miss Carter?"
"She's none of your concern." Sherlock answered, still glaring at his brother.
"Where is she Sherlock? Stop acting like an impudent child. I was informed that she was outside of the building when it exploded."
"She's fine. She has a few lacerations."
"They ruined my groceries." Mycroft looked to his brother after glancing at Carter, who emerged from Sherlock's room, eyebrow raised before his eyes narrowed. Sherlock could practically hear Mycroft yelling at him. 'What have you done to her?' was clearly the question that was being asked.
"Your groceries?" He asked, rather amused at the childish behaviour the woman was displaying.
"Yes my groceries and when I find out who is responsible I will disembowel the idiot, cook his innards and serve it to him on a silver platter; the bloody bastard!"
Almost everyone milling about Sherlock's apartment jumped at the sudden exclamation and looked to the small woman with an ounce of fear. Carter straightened her shirt and pulled her hair back into a messy bun.
"I apologise for that, Mycroft. Almost getting crushed by a brick wall has some adverse effects upon a person. Why are you here?"
Sherlock let out a small chuckle as Carter snapped at his brother.
"I request the services of my brother. Sherlock, I have a case that you would be most interested in."
"No. I'm far too busy."
"What could possibly be taking up your time She-"
"Carter?! Sherlock?! Where are you?!" John came barrelling through door as he shouted out for the two of them, pushing an unsuspecting forensic scientist down the stairs. "Sorry!" he shouted down to them as he stopped, seeing Sherlock, Carter and Mycroft.
"Good morning John. How are you today?"
John immediately went to Carter and she once again found herself being checked over.
"Paramedics did a good job. Feeling nauseous? Light headed?"
"Thanks for your concern John. I'm absolutely fine though."
"John."
"Mycroft. Sherlock."
"I would like to say, for the record, that it was not me who blew up the apartment." Sherlock quickly explained.
Carter giggled at that, trying to subdue the laughter as John glared at him, not appreciating the humour; not right now anyway.
"As I was saying, I want you to take this case."
"I told you that I am busy. I've not time to waste."
"Wait a minute. You're offering him a case? What are you talking about Sherlock? You've got nothing to do!"
"Why Sherlock, you weren't lying to your brother were you?"
Sherlock scowled, first at John then at Mycroft.
"I'm a very busy man. No. Do it yourself Mycroft."
"He'll take it." John then said, nodding at Mycroft.
"I shall text you the information. Do not keep me waiting Sherly." He then turned to Carter, holding an arm out to her. "I hope you were not harmed too badly and do not fret about your groceries. I will have someone come by with som-"
"She doesn't need anything from you Mycroft." Sherlock spoke up as Carter gave the man a quick hug. Mycroft returned the embrace.
"Well then, in that case: good day Miss Carter, Doctor, Sherly."
John rounded on Sherlock as soon as Mycroft had closed the door behind him.
"You weren't going to take it? You've been complaining about being bored for how long now? Why the bloody hell would you not say 'yes'?"
"He's Mycroft. I'm not going to allow myself to lower to such a standard that I actually take orders from him."
"Sibling rivalry and spite? Come on Sherlock!"
''
"So they're significant? What do they mean?" Lestrade asked Sherlock, John and Carter standing by waiting to hear what the man had to say.
"Ancient civilisations, even the criminal underworld of today, use pips as a warning; as a threat."
"What about the phone? Why would someone send you a replica of the phone from 'A Study in Pink'?"
"'A Study in Pink'? Not you too, Lestrade." The older man smirked at him, about to ask him a question when the pink phone began ringing.
"Hello?" Sherlock answered.
"Hello…..Sexy. I've sent….you…a little puzzle….just to…say…'hi'."
"Who is this? Why are you crying?" John, Carter and Greg all raised their eyebrows towards Sherlock.
"I'm not….crying…..I'm typing…and this stupid….bitch," the woman speaking barely got that word out as she continued to sob in between words, "is reading…it…out…. Have fun….solving the….puzzle."
The line went dead.
"The game is on, isn't it?" Carter asked.
"The game is on." Sherlock confirmed, looking positively giddy. He almost skipped out of Scotland Yard as he waved down a taxi, the three other people running to catch up to him. As they got to him he held out the phone: it showed a pair of shoes in an all too familiar setting.
"That's my bedroom." Carter stated before looking to Sherlock. "Why has someone broken into my apartment?"
"Come on you two. 221 Baker Street." Sherlock told the cabbie as he waited for John and Carter to get in.
They stood around the shoes in 221C.
"They're in near-perfect condition."
Sherlock rewarded her with a smile.
"John, are you going to contribute at all or just stand there admiring our intellect? Either way I don't really mind." Sherlock told the older man.
"They're from the early 90's I'd say. Every kid wanted a pair of these back then."
"Thank you John. Do either of you know who these shoes belong to?" He waited. When he knew he wouldn't receive an answer he continued. "These shoes belonged to Carl Powers: a young boy that had died whilst swimming. His case was very peculiar. You see, he was missing his shoes. I tried alerting the police to this but of course they didn't listen to me. I knew they were important."
"Wait, how old were you? Ten or something?" John asked.
"This was your first case." Carter stated and the two of them looked at Sherlock in awe. The man truly was a genius. "Absolutely amazing." Carter breathed out. Sherlock looked at her, hearing her whispered response and tilted his head as he watched her for a moment.
"Thank you Carter. I'll need to take these to the lab. You both are coming."
John pulled out his phone as it alerted him that he had a text.
"It's Mycroft. He wants you to investigate the West murder."
"I told him that I wasn't going to take the case. I've more important things to do, especially now. You go. I'm sure you've been able to pick up some skills in deduction and investigations. You'll be fine."
"I'll go with you if you'd li-"
"I need you to go with me to St. Bart's. John will be fine on his own. We'll see you back at the flat."
Carter shrugged and offered John an apologetic smile. He just shook his head and read through the file that was now on his phone.
"Go along. He'll throw a tantrum if you don't go with him."
"You will do fine John. You're a smart man with a good head on his shoulders. Just don't let Mycroft push you around, alright? If he does, tell me and I'll sort him out."
''
"Hi! I'm Molly Hooper."
"Lovely to meet you, I'm Car-"
"Carter! There is no time for useless formalities. I need you here, now." Sherlock interrupted, grabbing the woman by the hand, hauling her over to his spot in the lab.
"Sherlock!"
"Oh, fine. Molly, this is Carter. She's my linguist."
Molly looked between the two before her posture changed, sending Carter an odd look. His linguist? Molly thought.
"A linguist? Really? What can you speak?"
"She can speak every language known to man and otherwise, whether it be currently used or has been forgotten with time."
"She can also speak for herself." Carter interjected, discreetly elbowing the Detective before turning back to Molly. "I'm not really all that good. You're a pathologist, correct?"
"Uh, yes. Um, I need to go. I'll be back a little later."
"Finally some peace; her fawning is enough to make a person nauseous."
"You shouldn't be that rude to her Sherlock."
"She did send a filthy look in your direction when you elbowed me in the ribs. Mind you I would like an apology for that."
"Go and work your magic Mr Holmes. Is there a staff kitchen anywhere or a cafeteria?"
"Turn right, two corridors down and on the first floor. Coffee. Thank you."
"Cheeky sod. You're lucky I like you Sherlock or else you'd be getting your own coffee or going without."
"Yes, lucky." He said as she disappeared out of the door. "Now if I'm correct this shouldn't take all that long."
By the time she had come back up to the third floor, Sherlock had already looked at three samples.
"I know what it was that killed Carl Powers."
"Then why are we still here?"
"I need the evidence to back it up. I can't very well claim it was Clostridium Botulinum and not have the proof of it."
"And that is what's on that petri dish. Good. Where will we go after this?"
"To Lestrade of course."
"Going to bring up the fact that the police force in Sussex didn't listen to you when you told them it was murder?"
"Sussex?"
"It wasn't hard to find the article Sherlock. The internet truly is a wealth of knowledge."
"So it is."
"Hello again Molly."
Molly walked back into the room, giving Carter a tight-lipped smile before focusing solely on the Consulting Detective.
"Um, Sherlock? Would you like a cuppa? I can fetch one for you now if you'd like."
He simply pointed to the styrofoam cup that was sitting behind him on the counter and continued looking into the microscope. He did look up though when a knock sounded.
"Molly, I was looking for you. Are we sti-" The man trailed off once he noticed the other two people in the room with them. "Wait, I think I recognise you. Are you? You're the Sherlock Holmes, aren't you? I mean, I just never thought…I'm Jim." He held his hand out to shake Sherlock's. "It's a….pleasure."
Carter watched the exchange. The man was not all that tall, but she really couldn't judge him solely upon that, though something about him screamed 'complex'. His outward admiration, and the fact that he practically died when he shook Sherlock's hand, clearly gave away the fact that this man may have had a bit of a thing for the Detective. She eyed him curiously. The way he was put together, not physically but the other aspects: his clothes, his hair, his make-up, had her slightly suspicious. The man screamed 'homosexual' but she caught it, a sly smile that slipped onto the face of Jim and disappeared within the blink of an eye. There was something more to the fellow and she had a feeling it wasn't anything good.
"Yes, I suppose it is."
Jim spotted Carter and smiled largely.
"I'm sorry but I don't know who you are. Are you new here?"
"I guess you could say that. I think I'll be coming around here more often if Sherlock here has anything to do with it. I may as well apply; it might be more convenient for everybody." She sent him a polite smile as he shook her hand and came to stand on the other side of Sherlock.
"Jim works in the IT Department. He's my boyfriend." Molly spoke up.
"Yep, that's me. What are you doing over here? Can I see wha-"
Sherlock looked about ready to kill the man as he knocked over two petri dishes and a slide that the Detective had previously been using.
"Oh! Sorry! I'll just…..I'm sorry; really I am." Jim scrambled to pick up the items and stacked them as neatly as he could back onto the counter.
Sherlock just looked down on him with condescension and distaste practically rolling off of him in waves of warning.
"It's alright Jim. Accidents happen; there's no need to be sorry about it, right Sherlock?" Carter offered a kind smile to Jim, genuinely feeling empathy towards him. She'd done embarrassing things in front of people, including Sherlock, before and had been absolutely mortified. She may have a gut feeling that he was bad news but that look from Sherlock had her pushing it aside for the moment. Poor thing, she thought.
"If you don't mind, I need to get back to my research." He simply said, looking back into the microscope and ending any further interactions with the flustered IT worker.
"Right. I should probably get back to work now anyway. I'll pick you up at seven. See you then Molls. It was wonderful meeting you Sherlock; you too Carter."
"He's gay." Sherlock announced as soon as he heard the footsteps retreating down the hall.
"What?" Molly said. "No he's not. We've been dating for three weeks now."
"And domestic bliss suits you Molly. You've gained three pounds."
"Two and a half."
"Three. That man spends far too much time on his appearance."
"He just likes to look his best."
"Oh how naïve you are Miss Hooper. If the excessive hair products, make-up and clear attraction towards me hadn't been enough to clue you in, I'm sure the fact that he oh so subtly left his number for me under this slide would have you otherwise convinced." He held the offensive piece of paper and put it over the flame of a Bunsen burner.
"You….You always do this!"
"Always? This is the first time you've introduced me to a boyfriend since I met you. What do you mean 'always'?" Molly just ran from the room, tears rolling down her face as she turned to leave. "We should be leaving now too." He then added. Theor conversation continued as they entered a the back seat of a cab.
"Sherlock, you do realise that you just crushed a woman's heart, right?"
"Should I have allowed her to continue being in a relationship with a man who wished she was a man?"
"You didn't necessarily need to be that blunt with her though. Surely you could have, I don't know, told it to her in less humiliating way?"
"She wouldn't have understood. Did you know she was looking at you as if you were filth? I don't think she likes you Carter."
"I wonder bloody why Sherlock." There was a second or two of silence before Carter let out a giggle.
"What is it?" Sherlock asked.
"She finally lands a man but he's about as head-over-heels in love with you as she is. Irony: you gotta love it."
"I was expecting you to berate me some more; to show more compassion towards Molly."
"You were right though Sherlock. She gave me no less than three dirty looks while Jim was in the room and she ignored me when I said 'Hello again Molly'; she was rude."
"That is all it takes to get on your bad side? You still talk to me though." He pointed out.
"That's because you don't really mean it; you love me." She said, childishly poking her tongue out as she opened the door to step out onto the street. Sherlock went rigid and his face went blank as he stared ahead. "Well come on then. You were in a rush before."
He snapped out of it, paying the taxi fare and exited the vehicle.
"Lestrade." He said as he got to the front desk.
"What are you doing here freak?"
Carter could read the annoyance, disgust and hint of hatred that Sherlock obviously felt towards this woman. He turned around and was about to greet the Sargent when Carter spoke.
"With a face like yours, do you really think you should be judging others?"
Sally Donovan was taken aback by the woman's words.
"Who are you?" She said, giving the woman a once over before sneering at her.
"Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Carter. Carter Holmes. Who are you?" Sally looked back and forth between this Carter woman and Sherlock before shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, and I feel as if I should let you know, for future reference: if you insult my husband again I will hurt you, officer of the law or not, I really don't care. Uh-uh," she said, holding her hand up, "don't bother. It's not a threat. I'm merely explaining the consequences of your actions so unless you want to end up on a suspension for harrassment, I suggest you be quiet and leave my Sherlock alone."
She grabbed Sherlock's hand and tugged him along behind her, slipping her arm around his waist as they went along. Sherlock pulled her to him and looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips, eyebrow raised.
"Was that really necessary?"
"She called you the F-word. I despise that word Sherlock."
"Husband and wife?"
"Merely to establish a claim and bond. Needless to say, I've a feeling she won't be calling you that word for quite a while now. Oh, where is Lestrade's office?"
"I was wondering when you would ask." He gently pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her to a small alcove which harboured an elevator. "Second Floor, darling."
"You're not going to let me forget this are you?"
"Never forget what Mrs Holmes? Though I must admit not only does Carter Holmes sound rather acceptable, the look on Donovan's face was priceless."
"Rather acceptable? I'll take it as a compliment. So her name's Donovan?"
"Sally Donovan."
"Are there any other deplorable characters that I should be aware of?"
Sherlock quickly knocked on the door to Greg's office before walking in.
"You're about to meet another, Carter."
The forensic scientist looked to Sherlock and grimaced. Funnily enough that was the exact same reaction as Sherlock.
"What can I do for you Sherlock? Hi Carter. How are you doing?"
"Stop leering Anderson." Sherlock said before Carter could answer Greg's questions. "Though I am aware of her beauty, I would appreciate if you didn't ogle my wife." Sherlock gently moved her to his side, out of Anderson's view.
Anderson's jaw dropped; Greg wasn't quite sure what was going on so he offered them a congratulations. Unable to gather his wits about him, Anderson just stood there before slowly making his way out of the office, clearly in disbelief as his eyes went from Sherlock to where Carter had been moved and back again.
"When did this happen then?" Greg asked them.
"It didn't. You're employees need to learn some respect or, at the very least, how to behave in public." Carter explained.
"Okay then. I won't ask anymore because I'm not entirely sure if I want to know. Now what can I do for you?"
Sherlock explained what they had found on the shoes, explained that obviously the boy was murdered and that the murderer had contacted him.
"So who was the woman?"
"I've no idea but we've solved the case so-" As if on cue, the pink phone in Sherlock's coat pocket rang. "You murdered Carl Powers."
"Well done, you. You've solved the case. I never liked him, you know. He laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing. It's okay, by the way, that you went to the police. I've no qualms with your beautiful friend either. Until next time, Mr Holmes. Come and get me."
''
Authors Note: I hope that I haven't written Sherlock too out of character. I know at some points he may seem a little off, for lack of a better word, but keep in mind that his relationship with Carter is pre-established. He's known her for over five years and they have worked together before. Oh and I hope the chapter wasn't too long either; I got carried away. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed Chapter 2 of The Language of Life.
