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Chapter 4
Sherlock
Sherlock was sitting in the living room by the time John came down from his room the next morning, brows furrowed and three nicotine patches on his arm.
"You're up early. Still thinking about the case?" John asked groggily as he shuffled over to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. On the table, sitting on top of petri dishes and other chemistry tools, was a small scrap of paper. John picked it up, curious as he read the quickly scribbled words written on it.
White hair, 10-13 years old. Was seen around downtown. Didn't look dead.
"Didn't look dead?"
"Indeed," Sherlock said with a contemplative expression. "My informants don't have a chance to give me very detailed reports. They prefer to keep it short. And that leads to the current predicament that we are in."
He has that look again… John thought tiredly as he drank his coffee and waited for the inevitable explanation, which Sherlock readily delivered.
"One of the more obvious possibilities is that they saw someone moving the body around. Somehow, they managed to make the body look alive at the time. How, I have yet to deduce. Then, of course, there is also the less obvious meanings to it."
John snorted. "Like what? He just woke up and walked away?" He stopped suddenly when he saw the serious look on Sherlock's face. "Sherlock… You cannot possibly be saying-"
"That he made a miraculous and unheard of recovery from death?" Sherlock finished for him. "Of course not. There is an unknown factor in this situation. Something that we have yet to discover, and therefore can't input it into the equation. Think, John! It could be a poison that puts people into a parody of death for a short period of time. Maybe a sickness that the victim had. There is a wide range of possibilities!"
By this time, Sherlock was pacing excitedly and gesturing wildly. John could only blink confused in a half asleep fog as Sherlock grabbed both of their coats, tossed him his which he barely managed to catch before it hit his face, and walked out the door.
"Wha- Sherlock? Sherlock! Come back here, where are you going?" John shouted after him.
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively at as he tied his scarf. "To the city, of course. The informant I gathered this information from was located somewhere near the less legal side of the city at the time. If we are lucky we may even be able to find a good murder."
"Sherlock, if I get arrested one more time…."
"He apologized, didn't he?"
"Yes, but that's not the point! How do you even meet these type of people?"
"Simple, I proved them innocent."
"How do you know if they are guilty of other crimes then the ones they were convicted for?"
Sherlock deigned that question not worthy of an answer and strode ahead of John who was currently rubbing his wrists and trying to rub away the red marks from where the handcuffs had been.
"My record is going to hell..." John groaned. "What are we doing now?
"Going back, of course."
"What?" John stopped. "I am not going back there! That will make the police sure that we did it."
"Then I'll just flash Lestrade's badge again"
"That won't work every time, Sherlock! Give me one good reason why we should go back!"
BANG. A gunshot echoed through the air. Sherlock smirked and turned to run in the direction of the shot, calling back to John as he did so,
"Is that good enough of a reason for you?"
John stared after him, as he tried to wrap his mind around what just happened, before giving up and turning to chase after Sherlock, muttering as he did so.
"Sometimes I wonder if he plans these things…"
