I do not own Aase's Death or Edvard Grieg, or Peer Gynt, I just used the title for reference. All this work is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit or gain.
To: silentdreamer126, bubblecloudz, MsRomRaz1, KkGgINoU, Icecat62, Cartlin, BAD WOLF WRITER101, .Butterflys, NoXenko, grape500,Arty Diane. You guys are amazing! You make writing so much fun, and I'm very grateful to all the favs, follows, and reviews you have given me.
Icecat62: Yes, I also loved the image of Moriarty playing with Sherlock, and I tried to make it as enjoyable as playing with his brother, so thank you.
Arty Diane: Yes, I myself found myself giggling at times while I wrote it. That's good, I used them for a certain effect. Yes, he's very confused and a bit spooked by what occurred. Thank you for the compliment.
KkGgINoU: thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it! I will tell you somewhere in this chapter. Moriarty texted Sherlock first, just as Sherlock was about to text. The board game they were playing, is called Axis and Allies. Enjoy everyone!
The rainy streets of London, were no place for a bored detective with no cases.
Sherlock grabs his gun out of the hidden drawer under his desk, before placing it back in defeat. For out of the corner of his eye, a beautifully stained wooden instrument was beckoning from a small chair across from the room.
He longed to feel the ivory strings beneath his fingers and the rustic smell of the resin, as he drifted into a melodic trance. Numbing his boredom, as his fingers poetically dance across the strings with oscillating cries. Completing his sonata of boredom.
...
"Aase's Death?, it sounds like a funeral in here."
"You're bored again aren't you?" John asks.
"To the very epiphany John." Sherlock raises one eyebrow and cocks his head sideways as if in that moment, the army doctor became one of his experiments... "You've never taken an interest in classical pieces before... how did you know I was playing Aase's Death?"
"Because, I actually heard it playing at a funeral when I was in the army." John chuckles, and makes his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
"Sherlock!"
"Seriously, I don't want to feel like I'm making poisoned tea."
The detective gives John a guilty look, and quickly places his violin back onto the chair.
...
"John?"
"Sherlock?"
"Why are you staring at me that way?" Sherlock asks.
"Because I think your not being entirely honest with me." John carefully sips his steaming cuppa, and pops a biscuit in his mouth.
"Honest...about what?"
The army doctor stares at his flatmate intensely, giving him the 'you know exactly what I'm talking about face.'
"Oh, that...can't we just forget about that John? You've been complaining for days."
"No, we cant just forget about it, there was a note in the refrigerator with Moriartys signature on it. I know you're keeping something from me, and I'm going to find it..."
"John? stop staring it's getting annoying."
"John?"
Sherlock gets up from his brown leather chair; to put the tea tray back in the kitchen, with the army doctor walking eerily in front of him, still making eye contact.
"So this is it. You're just going follow me around all day with that...look?"
The army doctor says nothing.
The quick ping of a text, interrupts their staring contest. Sherlock takes his phone out of his left jacket pocket, and rummages through the recent list of cases, hoping catch a glimpse of something intriguing. After days of burglary cases, he was craving for something dangerous, and unyielding to be solved by any normal methods of Scotland Yard.
The corners of his mouth pull apart into a satisfied grin, as he eyes a certain message on his screen.
The Seamoore case
"John, there's been a number of strange occurrences, at an old seaside motel. Apparently it was built in the 90s, but since then, it's been sold to numerous bankers, and small town business men. Its recent owner is a man named Horus Blately. According to this article, he used to be an insurance salesman before striking it rich on a malpractice suit. After which he married and commandeered The Seamoore Motel."
"But if he struck it rich after winning the lawsuit, why did he commandeer a motel?" John asks.
"The most logical assumption, is that they spent it all on honeymoon and wedding expenses." Sherlock slips on his coat, and packs a few supplies for the road.
"Sherlock, what possible reason do you have for bringing a shovel?" John asks.
"You'll find out soon enough John."
The two of them finish packing the rest of the supplies, and head off to Scotland yard.
...
"Molly, why are you coming?" Sherlock asks.
"Strange occurrences could mean anything," Molly replies.
"Yes, but not necessarily corpses," Sherlock retorts.
"it's best to be on the safe side," Molly smiles.
Sherlock and John head towards the taxi, before being stopped by Lestrade.
"No, were taking the van, for surveillance purposes."
"Isn't that paint job a little high profile for surveillance work?" Sherlock asks.
"From what I've heard from the locals, there's a lot of trees in the area, so we need to blend in."
After all the equipment is installed in the van, the six of them head off to Seamoore.
...
Before long, soft giggling can be heard in the back seat. "John, why are you laughing?"
"Sherlock, are you telling me that you don't find this situation humorous?"
"What situation?"
"Lestrade is driving, Molly is in the passenger side, me and Anderson are in the back... and were all driving in this van, to solve a mystery..."
Sherlock gives John a puzzled look.
"Ok, remember that saturday morning cartoon?..."
They soon arrive at Seamoore and park the van in the surrounding trees.
"What's the matter with you two?" Lestrade asks.
"Were just very enthusiastic about the case," John replies, the laughter breaking through his voice causing it to crack.
"Ok gang, we need to search for evidence. Anderson? If you and Donavan find anything strange or out of place you report back to me."
"I'm just glad he didn't pair me up with Anderson, this blond hair wouldn't do me justice."
Sherlock and John break out in laughter once more, earning very bewildered looks from Anderson, and Donovan, as the two of them head off to the Seamoore hotel.
...
A strong smell of seaweed, greats them as they enter the building.
"You must be Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, a real pleasure to meet you both!" Mr. Blately shakes their hands.
"Now, i'll get right to the point. Our guests have been complaining of strange digging, and talking sounds, coming from the floor and the ceiling. when I go outside and check, I find nothing, and chalk it up to wild animals. But just recently, I heard a full conversation coming from the attic. When I went to investigate, I heard what sounded like the scrambling of footsteps, then not a sound for days. Mr. Holmes, the residents including myself, partly believe we've gone mad."
"Hmm. I don't believe you've gone mad at all. Someone is going through a lot of trouble to make you think so. To make you question your own sanity. No, this is a far more elaborate scheme."
"Just an arbitrary question, what happened to all the money you won from that malpractice suit?" John asks.
"I spent that years ago on my wedding and honeymoon expenses."
"Just, exactly where is your wife?" Sherlock asks.
"She's helping our guests get situated, one of them was complaining of back pain. What can I say, I married a saint, Mr. Holmes."
"That's all very wonderful. Me and my team are going to need a room for the night."
"Sherlock, why are we staying the night?" John asks.
"I want to experience these nightly occurrences for myself John. They are the key to unlocking this case."
"Here you are Mr. Holmes."
"Thank you," John replies.
...
Nightfall soon strikes the town of Seamoore. With the sunlight fading, the police team retire for the night.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream breaks the silence.
...
The whole police team, bursts into Molly's room, holding guns.
"Where's the intruder!" Lestrade shouts.
"It's under the bed?" Molly says, grasping the covers tightly around her body.
"What? your bed is barely three inches off the ground, that's not enough space for a full grown man to fit."
Sherlock and John bend down, and look underneath the bed.
A little mouse was shaking against a corner of the wall, too petrified to move.
"You screamed because of a mouse?"
"I-"
"Shhhh, what's that sound?"
...
I'm telling you, we have nothing to worry about, they're asleep. Now you bang on that part of the roof, and i'll scratch on this part of the roof, and when we hear someone coming we hide.
"Right, Jerry!"
"Put your hands behind your head! and come down from the roof..."
5 minutes later...
"If you were common thief's you would have just stolen what your looking for, but you didn't, you have been terrorizing the residents here because you want the hotel for yourself, or rather what's underneath the property."
"Someone hand me a metal detector!" Sherlock shouts.
Anderson gives Sherlock the metal detector, and stands back as chunks of dirt go flying into the air...
"So that was an interesting case. Who would have thought that there was an actual gold mine on his property?"
Sherlock clears his throat.
"I know you did Sherlock, I was there. And it turns, out that shovel you brought came in handy. Although, I don't think we will ever get the image of Anderson wearing that dog collar, out of our heads," John finishes.
"Yes, the name tag was an unfortunate coincidence: Scampie Dinkerman."
"He did say it was for his sisters pet, and it was the only gift shop for miles."
...
"Sherlock? You're never going to tell me if Moriarty was actually here are you?"
"And you're really not going to give this up are you?" Sherlock replies.
John folds his arms in protest, and stands up from his chair.
"Fine. Yes he was here, we were very bored, and he did leave that note in the refrigerator... Where are you going?"
"To the store. Ever since you mentioned the refrigerator, I've been craving some very wild food combinations."
This is probably the strangest chapter I've ever written! Anderson in a dog-collar... Which parts are your favorite? Anyway, chapter 12 will be out next week, and I promise it will be more ordinary, but still funny. Feel free to review;)