Chapter 25
John was waiting for me, and quickly caught on to fury and was mercifully silent. I began walking as fast as I could out of the building, not wanting to spend another minute, not another second in the air of his presence. Who was Mycroft to presume the compass of my heart? And to do so in such a candid manner, as if my feelings didn't even count for a moment. Oooh, it was like, it was like, it was like... It was like Sherlock.
We got outside right at that moment and I slammed the door behind me.
"Damn it!" I shouted. "You know what, screw him. Screw him and his umbrella all the way to Columbia for all I care. He needs a makeover John," I told him heatedly. "Those suits of his don't scream douche bag enough, and everyone needs as much warning as they can get with his attitude. Perhaps we could call Connie Prince, get him on the show. Oh god damn shit I'm angry. God damn shit. I could strangle him in a heartbeat oh yes I would." I turned on heel and looked at John. "You. In the cab." I shoved him inside. "I'm going in a different one to spend lots of money. Oh yes sir, lots of money to spend." I climbed in my own taxi, laughing hysterically.
"Where to miss?" The driver asked.
"Nearest shopping centre," I told him. He nodded and drove me there, and when I arrived I handed him my card as payment. It worked no problem. "Thanks very much." I stepped out and rubbed the plastic thoughtfully, thinking of where to start spending.
And boy did, I spend. Very easy to do in London, but hey that's life. First stop was laptop. I needed a laptop desperately. It would be so much easier to order certain things online then in person. That set me back a bit, but a necessary expenditure. I chose only the best laptop with maximum capabilities and security. Might as well.
On the way to my next destination I withdrew some cash, just as a precaution in case I needed it.
Next was clothing. Oh how I love Mark's and Spencer's. Lots of new clothing, free from vintage musk. New underwear, shirts, shoes, and lots of pants. No shirts or dresses. Simply not practical what with all the running and murders. I mean, what pretentious twat would go to a crime scene wearing high heels? Dumbasses. Armed with my purchases I made it back home, staggering in and laying the purchases across my couch. First order of business was to hire someone to clean out the mold. Second, a bed. Third, preferably small fridge, then some food.
In fact my stomach growled at that moment. I groaned. I didn't want to go out, but I did need food. Unless... that's right! I had a phone! Fuck leaving my flat, I could call for takeout and have my problem solved in like ten minutes. I dug out my phone and looked at it. It was nice, new, scratch free, touch screen. I bet it had internet. I switched it on and was greeted by a new message upon start up. I opened the text.
I expect frequent updates
Mycroft Holmes
I pulled an ugly face upon reading that (which is basically just my usual face). Dear god he was a prick. Tapping the internet application I searched for a suitable Chinese food takeout and saved the number in my phone for future reference. Then I gave them a call and placed an order. They said they would be there in twenty minutes. Ugh. Twenty minutes was a bit long, but they looked a bit more upscale then your average takeout restaurant so I let it pass. But how to pass the time was my real problem. I needed something fun, something challenging. My fingers itched as I looked through my contacts. There was Mycroft, the Chinese place, and of course Sherlock. Did I dare? Well, you know me. Can hardly resist the temptation.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
HR
I pressed 'send' and immediately giggled. I felt like I was pranking him or something, which is actually ridiculous since I'm sure he wasn't even paying attention to his phone. Rude that. Not even checking. I mean, what if I was trapped in the trunk of an old car and this my only means of communication? It would certainly mean I'd be shortly dead, no thanks to him. So I began sending more out of spite, giggling as I did so.
Sherlock had solved the case not too long ago, and was examining the evidence once again. Every so often his phone would 'ding' ever so annoyingly. Sherlock ignored it.
John could not. "That's probably your brother," he said in irritation.
"So what if it is?" He replied, staring at the wall nearly lost in thought.
"What if it's relevant to the case?" John asked seriously. "You could be missing out on vital information."
Sherlock sighed. "If it was of dire importance, then he would call. As it is, even if it was of trivial importance my refusal to respond would have him sending any pertinent news your way, as a human proxy. No, he most likely just wants to know how I'm getting on. Which as I am not getting on, I defer to the proverbial cold shoulder." A couple seconds later it dinged once more.
John got up. "Alright, I've had enough." He picked up Sherlock's phone and started reading. After a while he started laughing.
Sherlock looked at him, trying to hide his disdainful curiosity. "What's so funny?"
"Well, none of these are from your brother I can tell you that." He looked at a few more texts and laughed again. "But I give her credit, these are good."
Sherlock took the phone from John and scrolled through the deluge of messages.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
HR
Sherlock scoffed. So childish. He read the one after that.
To get to the other side! Haha aren't I a comic genius?
HR
His lip curled in frustration.
But guess what Sherly? It isn't the other side. It's the other other side. The chicken tried to commit suicide! See? It's funny!
HR
From there on the texts got even sillier and sillier until they were almost incoherent. John looked at him expectantly. Sherlock scowled. "I find these not the least bit humorous. In fact they trouble me more then anything."
"What, because she made some stupid jokes? Hardly the work of a criminal mastermind."
"John, you fail to see the meaning behind these texts," Sherlock said. "Why repeated texts? Why text me at all? Where did she get a phone? Clearly this is a call for attention. She wants me to know she has a phone. She wants me to connect these dots. You don't give her enough credit John. She is good, just not good enough. I'll find out her endgame."
"Or do you think that maybe she's just bored and texting you is her way of just entertainment?" John joked.
"I'm serious," Sherlock said, looking down at his phone. "I think this is something to be worried about."
John considered for a moment. "Okay Sherlock, I'll take you seriously. What are you thinking about right now?"
"I'm trying to make out whether or not she's in league with Moriarty," he said. "Ideally I'd like to observe her closely, but I don't want her interfering with the puzzles either. She might be under orders to misdirect me so that I end up losing the round, or she might just be an extra set of eyes, simply there to observe how I work and report back. That's why she has the phone. She's goading me. Ooh, how conniving!" He turned to his friend. "Did she say anything odd to you, anything at all?"
John tilted his head to the side. "Well, she did say right after we left Mycroft's that she was about to spend a lot of money. Seemed a bit weird. I thought she had none, what with the job hunt and all."
Sherlock's grimaced. "Are you sure it was right after you went to Mycroft's?"
"Pretty damn sure. After she has a private talk with him, she near shoved me in a taxi so she could go off and shop on her own. Why, do you think..."
"Yes, I think that exactly," Sherlock replied. "Oh, and here I was hoping I'd found her true motives at last." He typed a reply, visibly irritated. "What nonsense. I should have come to this conclusion earlier. Of course she's not some spy. How stupid. I could grind my teeth to nothing with sheer frustration."
John suppressed an eye roll. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel about the situation? Jesus Christ."
I sat with my Chinese food and laptop, eating vegetable lo mein whilst ordering some necessities. There was this website that had local resale items, so I bought myself a bed to be delivered first thing in the morning. Having funds to spend stuff on was a lot more fun then I had originally thought.
Ding!
I smirked as I bent down to check my phone. He had finally cracked. I must have annoyed him enough to-
How much is he paying you?
SH
Well wasn't he straight to the point. Jeez, no joke back? Heck I would've taken his insults I was so bored.
You'll have to be more specific. Really Sherlock, texting with such vague inquiries just doesn't seem like something you'd do. I'm slightly disappointed.
HR
That ought to get him typing in a hurry. And indeed, it was only seconds before I got another ding.
Your disappointment is inconsequential. How much is Mycroft paying you?
SH
John watched in amusement as his friend grew bitter and more frustrated with each text that passed. Sherlock took to pacing the floor, plotting out what he would send before he even received a reply. His phone dinged and he read the text quickly.
Do you mean how much is Mycroft paying me to think he's a dick? Well frankly that service is free. I'd think him a dick no matter what the circumstance.
HR
"Just answer the damn question!" Sherlock shouted. John began laughing as he updated his blog. "What's so funny?" He asked, whipping around to look at him.
His friend smirked. "You're getting so worked up over these texts when the woman literally lives downstairs. Do you see where I'm going with Sherlock? Sherlock?" He looked up to find himself alone. A satisfied smile spread from ear to ear. "That sounds like a fun date. Arguing over whether she's being payed by your brother to spy on you."
I say by myself, waiting for his response, when my door was flung open and he stepped in. "Well Sherlock, isn't this an unlovely surprise. Please, do make yourself uncomfortable. I could get you a glass of vinegar, if you'd like?" I smiled serenely, utterly bemused by his irritation.
"My brother is paying you to spy on me," Sherlock said.
"Congratulations Sherlock," I said. "You've just stated something that we obviously both know to be the truth! What will you say next? Perhaps something along the lines of 'the sky is blue' and 'I am a dick'. Truly, the world would be lost without such gems of language. I bow to you good sir." I made a mock bow from my seat.
"How much is he paying you to spy on me?"
"Well, it is you. You are insufferable, not to mention arrogant, stubborn, relentless, impatient, cynical, sociopathic... It would have to be sufficient pay to keep me on after all that. Plus exposure to you does increase the chances of my dying prematurely. So, I guess my total allowance is somewhere between more then enough for myself and more then enough for three people. Don't worry, I plan on sharing." I searched the web, expecting him to say something. After a few minutes I looked up to see him standing there. "Anything else?" For once, he left without uttering a single word. And I laughed myself a good joke in that I got this time.
Five minutes later I got a text.
I'll expect the next few meals that you pick up the tab, since you were so keen on sharing. Good night.
SH
And goodnight readers. I'm so tired! If you're wondering why this took so long, it's cuz I have a life (seems impossible I know) and shit happens and so does my new job that's really really REALLY long hours so unless I get a shit ton reviews I'm spending my extra time sleeping. I love you all all very very very very much. Happy Independence Day, or as my dad calls it, just another day. Peace out!