Chapter 11- The House
SH
A/n: I know, I know I said Monday or Wednesday. I'm sorry! I'm also sorry for the length of this chapter. But I hope it's ok.
I was out of breath when I finally made it to Baker Street. I stood on the pavement panting, ignoring the pain of a stitch in my side and staring up at the house that was opposite my flat. Had it only been a few days ago when John and I had discussed the window?
I didn't stop any longer. I darted around to the sides of the house, to the window with the fingerprints. Lestrade hadn't got back to me on them yet, but it was worth a shot. It had to be Moran's fingerprints. And I was almost always right.
My fingers found the edges, the seam between the rotting wooden window sill and the glass, and I gently pushed upwards, feeling my fingers latch on and the window give way.
It slides up noiselessly. I breath a small sigh of relief.
Crouched onto the wall, I studied the window closely for anything that would indicate recent use. Yes, more recent fingerprints.
I wasn't ready to carry out my plan. I was far from it.
But with John in danger I couldn't see another choice. Without a second thought, I slipped in through the window. It was large and I slipped in easily, my feet finding the smooth work surface below the window. It was Large enough for someone like Moran.
The room I slipped into was dark and old, the smell of dust and damp wood filling my nostrils, hanging heavy in the air. It seemed like it used to be a kitchen, or laundry room, but long since gone out of use.
I scanned the room, my eyes picking out scuff marks on the wall, the rope in the corner, the bowing shelf where it hadn't been able to take the weight of a person. Someone had been here.
I remembered the room upstairs. The one with the closed curtains. I headed cautiously into the depths of the dark house.
It was very cold, and foreboding. A feeling of uneasiness settled over me. I kept my ears pricked for any signs of a struggle. I stepped softly down the corridor, the wallpaper peeling sadly off the walls. A gaping doorway lead into another room, bathed in shadows.I slipped past, making as little noise as possible. A narrow staircase ascended to my right.
I found the room, completely empty save a piece of paper in the middle of the room. Folded once. My mind flashed back to Sky, the letter she had given me. The letter that had started everything. This one was so similar, it couldn't be a coincidence.
I picked it up. The paper was the same material as the first. Made in mass production. The ripped and frayed edges looked as if it had been ripped out if a notebook of some kind.
I unfolded it carefully.
A picture slipped from between the white folds. I watched it flutter to the ground gracefully, landing face up on the cold wooden floor. I turned my head to squint at it.
And it almost made me feel sick. For some reason.
It was John. Bound and blindfolded and gagged, tied to a chair in the middle of an empty room. He was unconscious, blood stained his face. My heart throbbed painfully, breathing quickened. He wasn't here. But the roomed looked so familiar.
My eyes flickered up to the white paper in my hand. And there was a note scrawled on there. With very familiar writing.
A/n: reviews? Please? X