"Sherlock!"
After a week of living in a dorm with Sherlock, shouting his name had become a customary procedure. John had started to become accustomed to Sherlock's interesting choice of hobbies and the particular times he thought were appropriate to procure them.
"Sherlock! It's a three in the morning, please can you play when, you know, IT'S IN THE MIDDLE OF BLOODY DAY!" John took his pillow and tried to muffle the sound of the violin but to no avail.
"I wish that were probable but I feel like playing now, so I'm going to play now." Sherlock said in matter-of-fact tone, and if it was even possible, he began to play even louder.
"Last night, you described to me the school's ventilation system while blindfolded, so why you don't you climb up a vent and go pop into a music room for a bit like any normal person would when playing violin at three." John grumbled to himself, wondering why he'd even bothered when Sherlock was not the type to give in easily, or respond to reason.
"Well, you think the music sounds nice, though." Sherlock stopped playing and turned to John.
"Yes, well how did you know?" John's voice was full of sarcasm.
"You're smiling."
Sherlock continued playing violin into the early hours of the morning.
ooOoo
John stared at his chemistry textbook, wondering whether med school was worth the complete and utter confusion he experienced every chemistry lesson.
"You look muddled to say the least." He looked up saw a girl staring at her textbook, smiling to herself. "Metals can conduct electricity because of the delocalised electrons from the outer shell which are free to move around in the atom."
"Erm, thanks?" John was not sure whether to be thankfully or surprised.
"You just look really confused, I didn't hear you turn the page, you've been staring at the same page for over half an hour and your exercise book is blank apart from that doodle of…" She stared intently at John's exercise book. "Either a hotdog, or a fly, I'm not really sure what it is to be honest." She smiled at John and extended an inky hand, "Mary, and you are…", she waited for a response.
John was dazed, she was very, forthright? Pretty? Yes, she was more than pretty, gorgeous, and she was talking to him. Oh, right, this is the part of the conversation where you are supposed to talk, thought John. Okay, start talking; this seemed like a perfect time for him mouth to lose one of its only functions, talking.
"Urm, err, J-John, yes, err, John." John said hurriedly and blushed in embarrassment.
Mary looked at him expectantly, oh yes, he thought, he forgot to shake her hand. He shook her hand quickly and watched her burst into a fit of laughter. John wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh along with her, so he coughed to make it less awkward.
"Someone is just not used to social interaction." She had stopped laughing but she was still beaming.
"No, I guess, I'm not." It was John's turn to smile at his lack of social skills.
"It's fine, it's kind of endearing." She pushed her chair towards John's, "Here, let me help you."
As she explained steadily to John, he felt two things begin to click in his mind. Firstly, he understood chemical bonding for the first time and secondly, he would like to know Mary better and that he knew for sure.
"So is it true that you share with Sherlock?" Mary tied her hair into tight bun, a simple activity that she managed make look extremely graceful.
"Yes, I guess." John wondered where she was going with this. He had become aware over his week at being in the school, that people had a general distaste for Sherlock Holmes. It could only be described as unified force that knitted the school body together. "If you have something to say about him that's bad, don't say it." He found himself being defensive of Sherlock, and to be honest, he realised he knew next nothing about him apart from that he had an amazing mind, bad social skills and just generally bad social conduct, bad being a huge understatement.
Mary stared at John, "Don't get pulled in by him and his mind. Be careful, I don't want him to hurt you." She squeezed his arm and continued to talk about the intermolecular forces in graphite.
ooOoo
"You look happy today." Sherlock said as John walked into the dorm. Sherlock was sat at the desk, head bent over a petri dish full of mould.
"What was she like?" Sherlock asked.
"What girl, wait? How did you-" John was puzzled, but soon realised that this was Sherlock, of course he knew.
"You weren't limping, there's bounce in your step. You had chemistry today, usually you slam the door after a lesson of chemistry." Sherlock continued to stare at the petri dish. John was presently surprised by the little things Sherlock had noticed about his mannerisms.
"I bet she's boring."
"You don't even know her." John's voice rose defensively.
"Well everybody's boring; trust you to like the boring ones." Sherlock rose from the desk and began to rummage through a drawer. "I'm shadowing a police case tomorrow, for psychology; we don't have any lessons tomorrow."
"That sounds exciting- wait, why did you say we?" John inquired.
"You're coming with me, I need a second opinion, someone I can trust, most of the police guys don't like me for some reason."
"Don't you have other friends, who can come with you?" John was secretly eager, but he thought a morbid fascination in crime might be seen as distasteful.
"Do I look like I have friends?" Sherlock studied John's expression.
"No?" Trying not to offend Sherlock but he guessed this was probably the truth.
"Look, you answered your own question, how clever of you." Sherlock applauded sarcastically.
"Why are you here, Sherlock?" Sherlock stopped staring avidly at the mould and turned to face John. "I mean, why didn't just skip school, you seem too bright to be here."
"I agree, I'm afraid that saying here will dull my mind, but alas, my elder brother Mycroft believes that my social capabilities are way below brain age and so he wishes for me to make friends." John wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he saw Sherlock shudder as he said friends. "I guess it's not so bad, I think you're growing on me, like a mould on cheese." Sherlock smiled the most genuine smile John had seen him smile, so he took that comment as a compliment.
ooOoo
"John, wake up. We're going to the morgue." Sherlock shoved John off the bed.
"Ow." John woke up sharply, and rubbed his head. Sherlock was peering intently at John's face.
"Maybe, I pushed you too hard. At least, you're concussed. You were out for…" Sherlock checked his watch, "2 minutes, 43 seconds."
John had got used to Sherlock's lack of concern for his wellbeing. He had already been injured that week when due to excitement, Sherlock throw a scalpel at the door, the same door, coincidentally John was walking through. John tried to reassure himself by telling himself the scar across his nose looked cool. It didn't. John had freaked out but Sherlock simply stated the velocity the scalpel was thrown at could have never have killed John, or seriously injured him. He then proceeded to scolded John for not giving back the scalpel.
"There's no time for you to shower so hurry up and get dressed." Sherlock began to pull on a long trench coat.
"Or I could just I have a lie in and not go." Sherlock gave John a murderous look, John decided that maybe going along was best, for everyone.
ooOoo
"DI Lestrade, nice to meet you John." Lestrade shook John's firmly and nodded at Sherlock.
"What are we looking at here?" Sherlock queried.
"This one is fond of taking the eyes, see for yourself." Lestrade pulled the door open to let the pair through and beckoned them to the slab. John saw Sherlock immediately perk up, he suddenly became more animated and generally happier, a side to Sherlock that he had previously never seen.
"Oh look, she didn't fight back, no signs of any struggle, there isn't any tissue under the finger nails, she must have known her killer. Or were there any drugs in her system?" Sherlock began to examine her hands and feet.
"Tox report came back negative, she wasn't drunk or drugged."
"Where did you say she was found?"
"Her home, there was no sign of a struggle or break in."
"That supports the theory that she knew her killer, I think her eyes were cut out while she was still alive."
"Is that even possible?" John was horrified, he was suddenly very happy he did not have time to eat.
"If you do it quickly enough. There have been cases like this before, in the 60s, this could be the work of a copycat." Sherlock smiled at John. "Is it distasteful and morbid to be enjoying this, because I am."
"Yes, but-"
"Bad timing, I see." Sherlock leaned into the girl's eye sockets.
"Eyes, expertly done, someone in the medical profession, have you checked her phone records? Talked to friends?"
"That's the thing; there wasn't a phone or laptop in that house."
Sherlock, clapped his hands in excitement, and then saw the glare John was giving him. Mental note, thought Sherlock, pretend to enjoy case less. "That was the killer's first mistake, John, I hope you don't have homework, we have a case to solve."
"Okay, so what are we looking for?" John asked as they surveyed the victim's house.
"Anything, to be honest, just anything out of the ordinary." Sherlock was crouched on the floor, looking for evidence under the sofa.
"If the police have already visited the flat, why are we here?" John inquired, as he looked in the kitchen cabinet.
"The police are stupid, they don't see the whole picture, well they see it, they just don't understand what they are looking at. No offence, Lestrade."
"The whole point of saying 'no offence' is to not offend, but as it's you, none taken."
"Shhhh…I need to think." Sherlock sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Lestrade didn't seem to be concerned by Sherlock's behaviour, John, on the other hand was extremely perplexed.
"You are thinking too loud, okay, stop thinking and stop breathing, it's distracting" Sherlock began to bang at his head. "There's something missing, I'm not seeing it, ugh, it's so obvious."
"I can't be bec-" John began and Sherlock shut him up.
"I said no breathing. O-oh." Sherlock breathed as he jumped up, his face lit up. "Oh John, you're a genius, it's obvious, why couldn't I have thought of that." Sherlock held on to John's shoulders and mustered the biggest grin John had ever seen Sherlock produce.
"She wasn't breathing, look at the carbon monoxide monitor, John, you actually have to look at it." John stared hard at it, but he wasn't completely sure what he was looking for. "Okay, so in the bin of the kitchen, there was packaging for a carbon monoxide monitor-" Sherlock, pointed subsciently, "-and batteries. But look, the carbon monoxide reader has one battery in it, because the killer took it out. Why would someone buy new batteries and a new monoxide reader but then only put in one battery? He poisoned her with carbon monoxide gas, it's colourless and it doesn't smell, she wouldn't have known. It didn't come up in the tox report because it wasn't specifically being tested for, he must have had a gas mask and was able to take out the eyes while she wasn't breathing. Fantastic!" Sherlock swung John around.
"Sorry to brea
"Sherlock!"
After a week of living in a dorm with Sherlock, shouting his name had become a customary procedure. John had started to become accustomed to Sherlock's interesting choice of hobbies and the particular times he thought were appropriate to procure them.
"Sherlock! It's a three in the morning, please can you play when, you know, IT'S IN THE MIDDLE OF BLOODY DAY!" John took his pillow and tried to muffle the sound of the violin but to no avail.
"I wish that were probable but I feel like playing now, so I'm going to play now." Sherlock said in matter-of-fact tone, and if it was even possible, he began to play even louder.
"Last night, you described to me the school's ventilation system while blindfolded, so why you don't you climb up a vent and go pop into a music room for a bit like any normal person would when playing violin at three." John grumbled to himself, wondering why he'd even bothered when Sherlock was not the type to give in easily, or respond to reason.
"Well, you think the music sounds nice, though." Sherlock stopped playing and turned to John.
"Yes, well how did you know?" John's voice was full of sarcasm.
"You're smiling."
Sherlock continued playing violin into the early hours of the morning.
John stared at his chemistry textbook, wondering whether med school was worth the complete and utter confusion he experienced every chemistry lesson.
"You look muddled to say the least." He looked up saw a girl staring at her textbook, smiling to herself. "Metals can conduct electricity because of the delocalised electrons from the outer shell which are free to move around in the atom."
"Erm, thanks?" John was not sure whether to be thankfully or surprised.
"You just look really confused, I didn't hear you turn the page, you've been staring at the same page for over half an hour and your exercise book is blank apart from that doodle of…" She stared intently at John's exercise book. "Either a hotdog, or a fly, I'm not really sure what it is to be honest." She smiled at John and extended an inky hand, "Mary, and you are…", she waited for a response.
John was dazed, she was very, forthright? Pretty? Yes, she was more than pretty, gorgeous, and she was talking to him. Oh, right, this is the part of the conversation where you are supposed to talk, thought John. Okay, start talking; this seemed like a perfect time for him mouth to lose one of its only functions, talking.
"Urm, err, J-John, yes, err, John." John said hurriedly and blushed in embarrassment.
Mary looked at him expectantly, oh yes, he thought, he forgot to shake her hand. He shook her hand quickly and watched her burst into a fit of laughter. John wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh along with her, so he coughed to make it less awkward.
"Someone is just not used to social interaction." She had stopped laughing but she was still beaming.
"No, I guess, I'm not." It was John's turn to smile at his lack of social skills.
"It's fine, it's kind of endearing." She pushed her chair towards John's, "Here, let me help you."
As she explained steadily to John, he felt two things begin to click in his mind. Firstly, he understood chemical bonding for the first time and secondly, he would like to know Mary better and that he knew for sure.
"So is it true that you share with Sherlock?" Mary tied her hair into tight bun, a simple activity that she managed make look extremely graceful.
"Yes, I guess." John wondered where she was going with this. He had become aware over his week at being in the school, that people had a general distaste for Sherlock Holmes. It could only be described as unified force that knitted the school body together. "If you have something to say about him that's bad, don't say it." He found himself being defensive of Sherlock, and to be honest, he realised he knew next nothing about him apart from that he had an amazing mind, bad social skills and just generally bad social conduct, bad being a huge understatement.
Mary stared at John, "Don't get pulled in by him and his mind. Be careful, I don't want him to hurt you." She squeezed his arm and continued to talk about the intermolecular forces in graphite.
"You look happy today." Sherlock said as John walked into the dorm. Sherlock was sat at the desk, head bent over a petri dish full of mould.
"What was she like?" Sherlock asked.
"What girl, wait? How did you-" John was puzzled, but soon realised that this was Sherlock, of course he knew.
"You weren't limping, there's bounce in your step. You had chemistry today, usually you slam the door after a lesson of chemistry." Sherlock continued to stare at the petri dish. John was presently surprised by the little things Sherlock had noticed about his mannerisms.
"I bet she's boring."
"You don't even know her." John's voice rose defensively.
"Well everybody's boring; trust you to like the boring ones." Sherlock rose from the desk and began to rummage through a drawer. "I'm shadowing a police case tomorrow, for psychology; we don't have any lessons tomorrow."
"That sounds exciting- wait, why did you say we?" John inquired.
"You're coming with me, I need a second opinion, someone I can trust, most of the police guys don't like me for some reason."
"Don't you have other friends, who can come with you?" John was secretly eager, but he thought a morbid fascination in crime might be seen as distasteful.
"Do I look like I have friends?" Sherlock studied John's expression.
"No?" Trying not to offend Sherlock but he guessed this was probably the truth.
"Look, you answered your own question, how clever of you." Sherlock applauded sarcastically.
"Why are you here, Sherlock?" Sherlock stopped staring avidly at the mould and turned to face John. "I mean, why didn't just skip school, you seem too bright to be here."
"I agree, I'm afraid that saying here will dull my mind, but alas, my elder brother Mycroft believes that my social capabilities are way below brain age and so he wishes for me to make friends." John wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he saw Sherlock shudder as he said friends. "I guess it's not so bad, I think you're growing on me, like a mould on cheese." Sherlock smiled the most genuine smile John had seen him smile, so he took that comment as a compliment.
"John, wake up. We're going to the morgue." Sherlock shoved John off the bed.
"Ow." John woke up sharply, and rubbed his head. Sherlock was peering intently at John's face.
"Maybe, I pushed you too hard. At least, you're concussed. You were out for…" Sherlock checked his watch, "2 minutes, 43 seconds."
John had got used to Sherlock's lack of concern for his wellbeing. He had already been injured that week when due to excitement, Sherlock throw a scalpel at the door, the same door, coincidentally John was walking through. John tried to reassure himself by telling himself the scar across his nose looked cool. It didn't. John had freaked out but Sherlock simply stated the velocity the scalpel was thrown at could have never have killed John, or seriously injured him. He then proceeded to scolded John for not giving back the scalpel.
"There's no time for you to shower so hurry up and get dressed." Sherlock began to pull on a long trench coat.
"Or I could just I have a lie in and not go." Sherlock gave John a murderous look, John decided that maybe going along was best, for everyone.
"DI Lestrade, nice to meet you John." Lestrade shook John's firmly and nodded at Sherlock.
"What are we looking at here?" Sherlock queried.
"This one is fond of taking the eyes, see for yourself." Lestrade pulled the door open to let the pair through and beckoned them to the slab. John saw Sherlock immediately perk up, he suddenly became more animated and generally happier, a side to Sherlock that he had previously never seen.
"Oh look, she didn't fight back, no signs of any struggle, there isn't any tissue under the finger nails, she must have known her killer. Or were there any drugs in her system?" Sherlock began to examine her hands and feet.
"Tox report came back negative, she wasn't drunk or drugged."
"Where did you say she was found?"
"Her home, there was no sign of a struggle or break in."
"That supports the theory that she knew her killer, I think her eyes were cut out while she was still alive."
"Is that even possible?" John was horrified, he was suddenly very happy he did not have time to eat.
"If you do it quickly enough. There have been cases like this before, in the 60s, this could be the work of a copycat." Sherlock smiled at John. "Is it distasteful and morbid to be enjoying this, because I am."
"Yes, but-"
"Bad timing, I see." Sherlock leaned into the girl's eye sockets.
"Eyes, expertly done, someone in the medical profession, have you checked her phone records? Talked to friends?"
"That's the thing; there wasn't a phone or laptop in that house."
Sherlock, clapped his hands in excitement, and then saw the glare John was giving him. Mental note, thought Sherlock, pretend to enjoy case less. "That was the killer's first mistake, John, I hope you don't have homework, we have a case to solve."
"Okay, so what are we looking for?" John asked as they surveyed the victim's house.
"Anything, to be honest, just anything out of the ordinary." Sherlock was crouched on the floor, looking for evidence under the sofa.
"If the police have already visited the flat, why are we here?" John inquired, as he looked in the kitchen cabinet.
"The police are stupid, they don't see the whole picture, well they see it, they just don't understand what they are looking at. No offence, Lestrade."
"The whole point of saying 'no offence' is to not offend, but as it's you, none taken."
"Shhhh…I need to think." Sherlock sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Lestrade didn't seem to be concerned by Sherlock's behaviour, John, on the other hand was extremely perplexed.
"You are thinking too loud, okay, stop thinking and stop breathing, it's distracting" Sherlock began to bang at his head. "There's something missing, I'm not seeing it, ugh, it's so obvious."
"I can't be bec-" John began and Sherlock shut him up.
"I said no breathing. O-oh." Sherlock breathed as he jumped up, his face lit up. "Oh John, you're a genius, it's obvious, why couldn't I have thought of that." Sherlock held on to John's shoulders and mustered the biggest grin John had ever seen Sherlock produce.
"She wasn't breathing, look at the carbon monoxide monitor, John, you actually have to look at it." John stared hard at it, but he wasn't completely sure what he was looking for. "Okay, so in the bin of the kitchen, there was packaging for a carbon monoxide monitor-" Sherlock, pointed subsciently, "-and batteries. But look, the carbon monoxide reader has one battery in it, because the killer took it out. Why would someone buy new batteries and a new monoxide reader but then only put in one battery? He poisoned her with carbon monoxide gas, it's colourless and it doesn't smell, she wouldn't have known. It didn't come up in the tox report because it wasn't specifically being tested for, he must have had a gas mask and was able to take out the eyes while she wasn't breathing. Fantastic!" Sherlock swung John around.
"Sorry to break the mood, but why did the killer use carbon monoxide gas, and why did the killer choose this victim?" Lestrade inquired, rubbing his temples.
"I'm guessing he thinks he's clever, the crazy ones always are, but they are stupid as well, they want to be caught. I take back my previous statement about the victim knowing the killer" Sherlock mused.
"Did you just say you were wrong?" John laughed.
"No, I wasn't wrong, I was misinformed." Sherlock stated simply.
"But why her, why this victim?" Lestrade insisted.
"Maybe it was a crime of convenience, maybe the killer saw her while on a train or he lived nearby. But he wants to get caught and he wants to show the world how clever he is, he's bound to have made a mistake and I will find it."
k the mood, but why did the killer use carbon monoxide gas, and why did the killer choose this victim?" Lestrade inquired, rubbing his temples.
"I'm guessing he thinks he's clever, the crazy ones always are, but they are stupid as well, they want to be caught. I take back my previous statement about the victim knowing the killer" Sherlock mused.
"Did you just say you were wrong?" John laughed.
"No, I wasn't wrong, I was misinformed." Sherlock stated simply.
"But why her, why this victim?" Lestrade insisted.
"Maybe it was a crime of convenience, maybe the killer saw her while on a train or he lived nearby. But he wants to get caught and he wants to show the world how clever he is, he's bound to have made a mistake and I will find it."
