"Here we are. This is the address Clara gave to me."
We pulled up at a cottage that wasn't fair from the coast, surrounded by wildlife and nature. The cottage itself looked small and a little run down. It was obvious why Moran didn't just buy this place, apart from being traced and stuff. It wasn't the kind of cottage you'd buy as a holiday home, or even as a home in general. Sherlock took one look at the place and decided that even a criminal who was capable of copying the dangerous Moriarty would never live here- we had obviously arrived at the incorrect destination.
"Really, John? This is it?" Lestrade shouted as he overlooked the scenery.
"Apparently." I replied, smiling reassuringly so that he wouldn't be too mad at me.
Sherlock wandered over towards the door and knocked it. "Hello? Anyone home? At all?" He called out loudly. When nobody answered, he was taken aside and the door was knocked down by a couple of policemen. The violent opening of the entrance to the cottage made room for Sherlock to glide into the building gracefully. I hadn't seen him do that in so long.
Hearing Lestrade give orders to his police team (and the local police team from Caister-on-Sea) outside, I followed Sherlock and looked around the grubby cottage. It hadn't been cleaned in days, and a strong yet indistinguishable smell lingered in every space possible.
I poked my head around the door of the living room, realising I had now done the impossible and lost Sherlock in a tiny cottage. "Sherlock?" I called. I heard footsteps on the stairs, and a voice saying, "I can't find anyone around here, he must've scarpered while he had the chance. Have you found anything, John?"
My head turned to face Sherlock's, our eyes connecting as soon as I moved. "Nothing, Sherlock."
"Damn. We may need to search around the local area, although from here, it looks like it's just field after field after field with a small country road."
It was almost as if he flew outside, with his coat flapping in my direction as he swiftly moved towards where Lestrade and a few other detectives from Scotland Yard stood. I walked into the living room, where there was nothing but an unused and dusty fireplace, and uncomfortable- looking sofas. There were patio doors located at the other side of the room, overlooking a long garden with a large building not so far from the cottage. It looked dangerous, as if it was the perfect hideout for a master criminal and serial killer. I attempted to open one of the patio doors, but it was locked. I tried the other door, watching it open smoothly. Someone had been through this door not long ago.
I could hear Sherlock's voice in the distant, calling me, asking for my whereabouts.
"I'll be back, now, Sherlock, keep an ear out if I call you," I shouted back. I heard a faint sound of approval as I walked towards the shed.
I quickened my pace, hearing noises from the shed with every step closer I got. To any normal person it looked like I was speed walking to get away from somebody, although in reality I was speed walking towards somebody. I arrived at the large door, which I could see was slightly ajar. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door open, walking into a room of darkness. There was no light source. Not even rays of sunlight could penetrate through any hole in the roof.
"Hello? Hello?" I shouted. I could hear my voice echo through the walls.
"Why hello there, John Watson," a deep voice came from behind me.
"What the-"
I turned around as fast as I could, and ended up facing Sebastian Moran.
"Sweet dreams, Watson."
I called Sherlock's name, but before I could run, something cold, hard & blunt hit my head, and I fell to the floor, eyes closing.