Later that night, John found himself mindlessly flicking through the channels on the TV.
He was supposed to be going to see a film with his latest girlfriend, Annie, but she had bailed on him, so now he had pretty much nothing to do.
Suddenly the quiet air was filled with the annoying sound of Sherlock's mobile going off again.
'Why does he never keep the bloody thing on him?' John thought angrily as he pulled the phone from a jar containing beer bottle tops.
"Hello?" He said, answering the call.
"Ahh, hello John. Is Sherlock there? I need to speak to him, it's important."
It was Lestrade, most likely calling about the body that had been found.
"I'm afraid not, he's gone for a walk apparently. He's in a funny mood for some reason."
"Oh," Lestrade paused. 'Well can you tell him to come down to here when he's back. It's about the body; the owners of the office that the man was found in want all of his stuff out. The regulars can't find any evidence on anything, we need Sherlock to go down there and take a look around. I suppose you'll need to come as well. The address is 155 Dutton Road. You'll need to organise your own transport though, I doubt I'm going to be able to get anything for you now."
"Right, that's fine, in fact I think I think can hear him coming in now. Bye"
John hung up just as Sherlock strolled in through the door.
"Why are you on my phone?" Sherlock questioned, snatching it out of John's hands.
'Well if you actually kept it on you, I might not have to use it"
Surprisingly Sherlock didn't retaliate. 'There really is something up with him' John.
"Anyway," He said clearing his throat. "It was Lestrade, he wants us to go down to the murder scene. I have no idea how to get there; the cabs are too expensive at this hour. I thought you might have an idea, you being the genius and all."
Sherlock shrugged.
John chewed his lip worriedly; Sherlock had never acted like this ever. Usually he would have been absolutely brimming with sarcastic witty remarks that John would never be able to retaliate on.
"Well… Uhh, I guess I'll have to ask someone for a lift then" John said, scrolling through his contacts.
Unfortunately most of them were past girlfriends, who would probably rather rudely decline the opportunity to have anything to do with Sherlock.
His finger hovered over Annie's number, when he had a much better idea.
"Hello, Molly?"
"Yes, Hello? Who is this?" Molly's crackling voice jumbled from the phone
"This is John, D'you think you could give us a lift to-" he paused and checked the address he'd inked on his hand. "-155 Dutton Road, I'm not entirely sure where that is, but we need to get there for the Murder scene or something"
"Oh… err, yes I suppose so, my cars a bit rubbish, but I think it'll make it. When do you want me to pick you up?" Molly crackled.
"Well, now I guess. They need to clear up the office or something."
The line was silent for a minute, John could imagine the startled-cat-like face that had occurred more then once on Molly face.
"Y-Yeah, I can do that. I'll come by your house now." She stuttered.
"Great, thanks, bye" John said quickly, and then hung up. He'd never been good with phone conversations.
He turned to Sherlock, who was now lying on the couch beside the bookcase.
"We got a lift, with Molly." John said.
Sherlock's face twitched at Molly's name.
"I'm going to go think." He said standing up.
John groaned. "You've been thinking for seven hours, what else could there possibly be to contemplate?" He called down to Sherlock, as he threw open his bedroom door.
He responded by slamming the door shut unnecessarily hard.
