A/N: Alright, another chapter. I've been working on an original story, so that is part of the reason why I'm not updating regularly. If you're interested in reading my other story, let me know and I would be more than happy to send you a bit of it! Thanks : )
John's POV:
I sat next to Sherlock it the back of the cab.
"Fire department, now." He told the cabbie. The car pulled into traffic and sped off quickly. The sky was dark under London, but the lights of the city were bright under the stars.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked. Sherlock's eyes were scanning everything inside and outside of the cab. I could see the deductions process in his mind, analyzing every single movement.
"Save Mrs. Hudson." He said in his deep voice.
"That's it?" I asked, quite surprised. Sherlock nodded and we rode the rest of the ride in silence. I wanted to ask Sherlock if he was alright, but I had the feeling he would yell at me like he did when we were in Baskerville. Whenever I stole a glance at him, he didn't seem different, but I knew he was.
We were a block away from the fire department and I paid the cabbie in advance. When the cab rolled to a stop, we were out in a flash and pushed open the doors to the fire department. The door swung on it's hinges and the lights were dim inside. There was a front desk and behind it was a security guard laying on the floor. Obvious signs of a struggle, but not dead.
Sherlock floated by and walked deeper into the building. Everything smelled clean and Sherlock's shoes tapped on the linoleum floor, echoing down the hallway. The lights at the end of the hallway were dimmer and our shadows eerily walked down the hall.
All the doors down the hallway were locked and closed except for the last one on the left. It was silent in the building, other than our footsteps and a stifled sob. Sherlock placed a hand on the door and pushed it open. I followed behind.
Before Sherlock could open the door all the way, someone pushed past us. Sherlock grabbed the dark figure by the shoulders but the man hit Sherlock square in the jaw.
My instincts kicked into action and I grabbed whatever I could of the man in the dim light. He struggled free from my rear bear hug and darted from my grasp.
"Boys!" I heard from inside the dark room.
"Go, John." Sherlock said and ducked into the room, his long, black coat trailing behind him. I did. My legs pumped hard to catch up with the man, but I had lost him. I circled the front desk and looked out the front doors.
Shit. I cursed under my breath.
"Sherlock, I lost him!" I called down the hall but before I could take another breath, something hard hit me in the back of the head. I crumpled to the ground with an umph and a dulling throb in my head. Everything seemed so fuzzy, the tiles cool underneath my cheek. I blinked a few times and saw the dark figure dash out of the building, leaving the door swinging.
"John!"
"OFFICIAL PAGE BREAK*
When I came to, the first thing I felt was a sharp pain in my head. When I groaned and opened my eyes, a hand helped support my head.
"Sherlock, bloody hell."
"John, did you get a good look at the man?" Sherlock asked and gave me a hand to my feet. His pale blue eyes were startling.
"Give me a moment and let me think." My fingers trembled a bit as I rubbed the back of my neck. I was still in the front room. The man who was knocked out at the front desk and Mrs. Hudson were sitting on some plastic chairs in the corner.
"The police should be here any second." Sherlock looked out the window. As if on cue, I started hearing faint sirens.
"Are those two alright?" I pointed to our landlady and the lousy security guard.
"Fine. Fine." Sherlock nervously tapped his forearms. "Come look at this though." I followed behind his flailing coat to where we first saw the murderer. I cautiously entered the room and Sherlock flipped the light. It flickered a few times and I saw a chair with cut ropes draped over the back. It seemed like a small supply closet. A few brooms and mops were leaning up against the wall but the most eerie part of it all was the bloody handprint that stained the door we had just entered. Drips of crimson trailed down the wood and the long and slender fingers were obviously a woman. Mrs. Hudson.
"Oh God."
"I gave her my scarf to wrap around the cut. Her hand is wrapped up."
"What about evidence on it?"
Sherlock shook his head, examining a crevice by the floor. "She said he wore gloves."
The sirens were close now and I saw red and blue lights flashing along the hallway. "Sherlock?" Detective Inspector Lestrade hollered.
A/N: I hate it when I'm busy in the summer time, no time to write! Enjoy : ) I just love Lestrade, so I had to put him in there : D