A Silent End To Belgravia

Silent Dinner

Pluck.

Bond air is go

Pluck.

that's decided…

Pluck.

Check with the Coventry lot

The genius sat in his usual chair, the warmth of the fire melding with the melodic notes of his violin as he absently plucked the strings; a soothing balm to his racing thoughts, the cogs of his mind turning almost franticly in their search for an answer to his puzzle.

"Coventry." He voiced, hoping to bounce his thoughts off one of his more average minded flatmates. However as he came back to the world outside his mind, he saw it was neither John nor Rose that sat in front of him.

"I've never been." The Woman replied having curled up on John's chair, arms wrapped around the cushion that usually sat there. "Is it nice?"

"Where's John?" He asked, wary at her presence; even more so for having not noticed her.

"He went out." Irene answered. "Rose too, a couple of hours ago."

"I was just talking to him." Sherlock stated and Irene, like a fair few others wondered how the man who saw everything could sometimes be so blind.

"He said you do that. What's Coventry got to do with anything?" She asked, wondering what he meant by his words.

He sighed, putting his violin to the side. "It's a story; probably not true. In the second world war, the allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code, but they didn't want the Germans to know they'd broken the code so the let it happen anyway."

Irene just looked at him, wondering how someone could be so…she didn't even know how to describe him; he was cold and inhuman, yet brilliantly clever and not shy about it. He was handsome - there was no denying it - and even had a certain charm about him. He was one of the few to treat her like she was more than just an object; more than what she was. "Have you ever had anyone?"

Her sudden question threw him though. "I'm sorry?"

Knowing her field well, she elaborated. "And when I say had, I'm being indelicate."

"I don't understand." He stated, though he was quite sure what she was implying.

"I'll be delicate then." She replied, playing the game. Uncurling herself from the chair, she knelt before him, placing a delicate hand on top of his own, now free from the instrument it was plucking not so long ago. "Let's have dinner."

"Why?" He questioned, giving her hand a brief glance.

"You might be hungry." She answered innocently, though they both knew she was far from it.

"I'm not." He shot back.

She smiled, eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Good."

Turning his captured hand, he held her delicate wrist. Leaning forward, he kept eye contact with the woman in front of him, face inches from hers. "Why would I want to have dinner…If I wasn't hungry?"

Her smile dropped though the game was still in her eyes. "Mr Holmes…if it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night…you would have dinner with me?"

"Sherlock!" Came a shout from downstairs, the thudding of steel toe capped boots coming up the stairs.

"Too late..." Irene whispered, leaning back slightly at the interruption.

"That's not the end of the world." Sherlock told her. "That's my assistant." He watched as she pulled back properly, going to the kitchen as Rose came in the living room - hiding from who ever Rose brought with her.

"Sherlock, these gentleman were at the door." Rose informed him, crossing her arms. "You really should start answering the door you know."

"Didn't hear the doorbell." He argued, turning away from the kitchen giving her a steely eye.

"That's because you shot it." Rose replied.

Sherlock saw the suited man walk in, recognising him as the one who came to take him to the palace. "Have you come to take me away - again?"

"Yes, Mr Holmes." The man replied.

"Well I decline." Sherlock retorted with sass, earning an eye roll from his flatmate.

The man reached into the inside of his suit jacket, producing an envelope. "I don't think you do." He replied, handing the seated man the envelope.

Rose frowned, wondering what it could be. Sherlock snatched it and ripped open the seal and pulled out two flight tickets.

Sherlock Holmes

Baltimore - 6:30

A look of understanding came across his face and Rose knew it was something important. He let out a huff before jumping up and grabbing his coat and scarf and proceeding to go out the door. "Coming?" He called to Rose, who was already about to follow after the suited man.

"Of course." She replied.