This isn't one of the best chapters I've wrote, but I had to use this prompt and the idea naturally flown.
The murder mystery party was quite enjoyable; that is, until the lights turned on. We were shocked to find her really, truly dead. [Sent by Aeternus . Flamma]
I must say I do not understand why people insist on celebrating birthdays. What is the point of celebrating the fact that we turn a year older? And then there's always that one person that comes up and offers a balloon. I mean, balloons are so weird. "Happy birthday, here's a plastic sack of my breath." It confuses my brain. But John insisted we should come. It was Gre…Gra…Ga… I give up, really! It was Lestrade's birthday. Apparently it is a big milestone to reach the fiftieth anniversary.
His friends and colleagues from the police station were throwing him a surprise party. The idea was pretty well conceived, I must say: murder mystery party. For days they had been sending Lestrade these weird messages, indicating that there might be a murderer warning him about his victim. Lestrade came to me with those notes, and if at first I started aiding him, it didn't last for long. In that same day John told me that it was all a play and that I should play along.
"Can I stand up?" I whispered at John. "The-"
"No, stay down," He said, placing the hands on my shoulders and made me duck again. "we have to wait for Greg to come."
"This is ridiculous." I mumble. "I have something important to show you, John!"
"Shh!" He hissed. I wanted to show him something important but John made sure to ignore me.
Lestrade's friends got this small pub he so likes to come as the place to throw him the surprise party. The owner agreed that they could the place for the night as long as everyone would buy from him the drinks. No problem, apparently. And as it seemed I was the only that had noticed that the woman that was supposed to play dead was far too committed to her role. No-one hadn't realized she was dead!
"Surprise!" They all shouted as they got up and someone turned on the lights again. I was the only one who stood up two seconds later and could be compared to the musician who finishes after the conductor's cue.
The look on his face was genuine and softened. He seemed upset for not having an answer to the murderer case but once he entered the pub, he started giving hugs to everyone. There wasn't a single person in there who didn't wish him 'happy birthday'. Well, I did not certainly as I walked to the blonde woman lying on the floor. His friends were still explaining him all about the notes he had been receiving and how they were fake. Actually, not so fake.
"Get up, Clarisse," One of them shouted. "Greg knows it's a prank already."
"I'm afraid Clarisse won't be getting up anymore," I began. "she's dead."
The murder mystery party was quite enjoyable; that is, until the lights turned on. We were shocked to find her really, truly dead. Well, everyone was shocked to find her really, truly dead; I wasn't. John rushed to check on her pulse and affirmed. "She's dead indeed."
"Oh bloody hell!" Lestrade shouted. "This was not a fake."
"No-one leaves this pub," I announced. "the killer is in here."
"I got my cuffs," Lestrade told me as he drank a shot of vodka. "do your thing, Sherlock."
Next chapter I'll make it up to you. It is about Mycroft poetry talent during school years, an ode about pastries and blackmailing from a Holmes boy.
