Magic mirror 2
john only managed to nic himself twice shaving that morning despite the constant feeling of being watched. Now that he knew Sherlock could move freely wherever there was a mirror, he was jumpy at the slightest twitch in the reflective surface.
He finished up as quickly as possible as to not keep Sherlock waiting. John didn't want to know what happened when the man grew bored. He stepped out of the lue, fully dressed, and strode over to the desk and subsequently, the mirror.
"All right Sherlock" John called out "we can leave now. 221B Baker street was it?"
Sherlock appeared in his own mirror, still looking a bit put out at being scolded earlier. He gave a sullen nod to John's question.
"Oh don't pout like you think you were in the right." John gave Sherlock a no nonsense stare. He walked over to the small hall closet an picked up his rarely used satchel.
"I know what you're thinking and there is no way you are putting me in that thing!" Sherlock pointed an indignant finger at the bag John had shouldered. John's look was steady as he walked over to the desk and bent so he was eye level with the man in the mirror.
"'No way' you say? If we are doing this, we are going to do it my way. That includes putting you in this bag so I don't look like a loon clutching a mirror on the tube to baker street!" John stood straight. "If you don't like it, then tough luck. It's the only way you're getting there." Before he could protest further, john grabbed up the mirror and stuffed it into his satchel.
A muffled yell caught his attention. "Why don't we just take a cab!?" John flipped the flap of the bag over so he could hear Sherlock better. "Army pension. Not waisting that much money when I could take the tube for a fourth of the price."
After grabbing his wallet, keys, and anything else he might need while out, John headed out the door. He continued to hear muffled grumbles so he gave his bag a good thunk. And indignant squawk was heard from the depths of the bag then silents. The morning was a bit chilly and the sky overcast as he walked to the tube station. The same sense of paranoia overcame him, but on a lesser, more manageable scale. He was able to shove most of it to the back of his mind, the only sign being the hand clenched around the strap of the bag.
The ride to baker street itself was uneventful and John was soon making his way up the lane to 221. a quick rap on the door produced a handsome older woman in a purple cardigan.
"Yes dear, what can I do for you?" Her smile was kindly and expectant. Before he could even tell her his name a shout came from the bag. "MRS. HUDSON." She looked at the bag, startled for a moment before her eyes widened in recognition.
"Oh my, Sherlock? Is that you in there?" The woman, Mrs. Hudson apparently looked at john expectantly and gestured to the bag.
"Oh yes, right." John fumbled to open the bag and pull out sherlock's mirror.
"I would know that mirror anywhere. Where have you been for the past few years dear?" Sherlock had appeared behind her in the mirror. "and you haven't ages a day since I last saw you. Oh do come in, both of you!" Mrs. Hudson grabbed the mirror and ushered John into the dim hall of the building and into the suite marked A. In short order The mirror was hung on a peg on the wall, there were three mugs of steaming tea on the table and a plate of chocolate digestives. In a passing thought John realized that it had never occurred to him that Sherlock might actually eat. As John watched, A biscuit floated up, seemingly on it's own, and disappeared as if eaten. The mug of tea was next rise to Sherlock's yet unseen mouth. John shook his head. If he thought about it it would cause him to go mad. So he ate his own biscuits, and drank his tea, all the while pointedly not looking at where sherlock's reflection sat.
"Oh it is so good to see you again Sherlock. I thought I had lost you well and truly last time!" Mrs. Hudson sipped her Tea demurely. She turned to john. "left him in a cab of all things. Just got back from a long trip and left him right there, on the seat next to me! I felt horrible for months!" she looked over to the mirror to address sherlock directly. "Of course all you things are in the same place and order as they were, the flat is all yours. It might be a bit musty, I've gone up and dusted a few times but I haven't lately. You know, my hip and all." She patted her her hip and made a 'what can you do?' gesture.
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." sherlock looked put out at the mention of being left on the seat of a cab but brightened soon after at the mentions of his effects. "As always your biscuits are superb!" He finished his tea and shoved another biscuit in his mouth before disappearing from the mirror all together. John looked at Mrs. Hudson with a questioning look and she smiled kindly at him "He most likely went upstairs to make sure everything is there." She stood up and walked over to the wall and grabbed a set of keys off of a hook along with sherlock's mirror. "Here you are dear. You'll be needing these even if sherlock wont. And the mirror too. there is a peg just like that in the living room upstairs to hang that on." she motioned over to the wall.
John took the keys and mirror. "Thank you, for these and the tea. Do you mind if I...?" John pointed to the ceiling.
"Not at all dear! There is a second bedroom upstairs in case you'll be needing two." she had a mischievous look in her eye.
"Of course we'll be needing two. Does he even sleep...?" the last bit was muttered to himself as he exited the downstairs flat. He cautiously made his way up the stairs to unlock the door, bracing himself for what he might find.
The first thing he noticed was the books being rearranged on the shelf, some flying across the room to thunk against the opposite wall. The next was the thin layer of dust covering most surfaces. The un-lived in smell that came after was what spurred John into action. He worked his way through the clutter on the floor to the windows. Placing the mirror on the table between the two, he threw back the curtains causing a cloud of dust to rain down over his person. After a few moments of coughing and sneezing, he was able to open the disused windows. With a little light the room looked almost livable. He moved to take a look at the kitchen when a book came whistling through the air within an inch of his face.
"Sherlock for heavens sake watch where you're throwing those things!" John had to dodge another book tossed his way. He snatched up the mirror to look pointedly at the man, only to be ignored in favor of something deemed more interesting. Rolling his eyes, John searched the walls for the peg Mrs. Hudson told him about. He found it right in the center of the wall, above the couch on the opposite side, facing a larger mirror above the mantle. John carefully made his way over and hung the mirror in it's designated spot.
"I'm going to take a look around. Don't destroy anything please." John heard a scoff and took that as all the answer he would get.
John started into the kitchen when sherlock called after him. "Don't go into the room at the end off the hall!" looking over his shoulder at the still floating book he waved in affirmation and went to study the kitchen.
There were dusty boxes sitting on the table labeled with everything from dish ware to chemistry equipment. Figuring he would leave those for later, John started a search through the cabinets. He came up with more dust and a few cans of questionable origin, but nothing too horrible. A brief scan of the fridge produced the same. Nothing a quick clean couldn't fix.
the bathroom was the same and the second bedroom. There was already a bed there, for which he was grateful, and a wardrobe. A large mirror was also hanging on the wall. John made a mental note to cover it with a sheet, still remembering the incident in the bathroom. All in all the flat was quite nice, if in need of a bit of cleaning. John made his way back down the stairs. Sherlock had moved from the book case to the boxes in the kitchen. Completely focused on his task and ignoring the dish ware, he seemed determined to set up a mini lab on the kitchen table. Test tubes, beakers, petri dishes, and all manner of objects were pulled out and set up with precision. Even a Bunsen burner and microscope came onto the play.
"so you're a chemist then?" John was leaning against the door frame. In his earlier search he hadn't noticed a mirror in the kitchen but since sherlock was in the room there had to be one "How did you even acquire all this?"
"No this is just a hobby of mine." the clinking of glass accompanied his words. "and it helps when you're friends with a mortician. Well I say friends..." He trailed off.
Footsteps echoed up the stairs/ "Yoohoo boys!" Mrs. Hudson came bustling into the room. "Sherlock I took the liberty of calling that DI you used to work with to tell him you were found! I'm sure you'll have some work in no time." She studied the room with a keen gaze. "I see you've already made yourself at home again. Look at this mess!" She was referring to the books scattered across the floor. "I'm not your housekeeper, I will not be cleaning up after you." As she said this she started to tidy up, completely negating her words. John hid a small chuckle behind a cough.
Spying the nice squashy arm chair John decided to sit for a spell and read the paper that Mrs. Hudson had brought up with her. He opened up to a random page and the headline caught his eye.
Serial suicides...
"Let me see that." John flinched violently as the paper was snatched out of his hands into the air.
"Nasty business that, serial suicides." Mrs. Hudson was still moving about the room, dusting and whatnot. "What do you make of it sherlock? Three in as many weeks." She shook he head sadly.
"Four." Sherlock -and subsequently the news paper- moved over by the window. "There's been a fourth." John craned his neck to look out the window. The flashing red and blue lights were ostentatious in the broad daylight. Pounding footsteps on the stairs caused John to swing around in his seat.
"Sherlock!" The man with graying hair looked franticly around the room, eyes stopping on the floating news paper. "I'll never get used to that..." Sherlock cut him off before he could continue talking.
"What's different about this one?" looking away form the paper, the man made eye contact with Sherlock in the mirror over the mantle. "You wouldn't be here if you still thought it was suicide."
"This one left a note." taking a deep breath and blowing it out through his nose the man spoke again. "Will you come?"
"We'll be right behind you Lestrade. Text John the address."
The man, Lestrade, looks over to John like he just noticed he was there. "And who are you?"
John stood up to shake the DI's hand. "John Watson. I'm Sherlock's... Owner? Handler? I'm not rightly sure, I found him in an antique shop."
"Right. Let me get your information then." After exchanging mobile numbers, Lestrade was out the door. A crow of delight form Sherlock was heard and the news paper was flung, it's pages littering the floor.
"Four serial suicides and now a note, oh it's Christmas!" He was practicably vibrating with untapped energy. "Come along John grab the mirror and lets go!"
Felling a little put out, John obliged. A text cam through on his phone with an address. John couldn't tell where Sherlock was but assumed he was in his mirror. So much for a quiet morning in.