*Hey guys, thank you for reading my story so far, I am sorry for not posting for a while. Please follow/review this story and tell me what you think. Your comments would be very helpful and I am intrigued about what you think. Hope you are enjoying it so far and I have changed the rating for the future and it may possibly change again so here is the warning.*
Sherlock sat down and sighed. He did not know where to start looking and the feeling of not knowing made him feel inadequate and incompetent and like an average person, whom he fully well knew, he was not. He started to think about using the homeless network to track him down when he was interrupted by a somewhat sexual sound, which he was too familiar with. Sherlock jumped up and grabbed his phone from the floor where he tossed it after his meaningless and non-useful phone call with Lestrade. It was Irene.
The mystic woman had texted him the words, 'It is in his name'. Sherlock lent his phone against his forehead for a second, 'his?' he thought, a split second later he yelled 'HIS!' Immediately he texted back saying 'JM' and instantly received a reply saying 'RB'. 'Richard Brook' he said, 'Why the fake made-up characters name, not his real name?' Sherlock pondered at the thought when he has interrupted again by another text, 'Step back into the past'. He realised then what he needed to do and thought 'So the game begins again', grabbed his coat whilst storming out of 221b, and called for a cab.
During the journey, Sherlock was thinking that he was not alone, not at all. He had Irene, despite not knowing where she was, John despite them not always agreeing and seeing eye to eye on matters. He also had Moriarty. He is not dead, he is still with him and the thought secretly filled him with guilty happiness inside. Sherlock knew he was not suppose to feel like this towards his enemy, not towards a man who orders killings and is the cause of his own destruction. Yet he was always so pleased to see him, he knew Moriarty felt the same, this was not a feeling that Sherlock had experienced a lot in his life, but he was enjoying the experience.
Snapping back to reality, he pulled out a crisp fifty-pound note and a piece of paper with a pen. He wrote down a number of locations on the paper where he has associated with Moriarty, from the pool where they first met, to the hospital where they last met. As well as that, he wrote 'Brook, a small stream' The taxi then stopped and Sherlock jumped out, telling the taxi driver to wait for him as he went up to a homeless man and placed the paper wrapped by the fifty-pound note into his cup. He returned to the taxi and sighed, 'So now I wait' he said to himself.
