John limped heavily out of the graveyard, clutching his cane as if it were his lifeline. He decided to walk back to Baker Street, as he needed time to clear his head. As he turned into the main road, his phone vibrated in his pocket. John wearily pulled his mobile out and clicked the screen on.
Want to go for a pint? -GL
John didn't really feel like going out after what happened today, but he didn't want Lestrade checking up on him frequently and, although he didn't want to admit it, he desperately wanted to know who was behind all the familiar messages they had received that day. Maybe Lestrade had tracked the address?
Where? -JW
His phone rang almost immediately after he had pressed send.
The Red Lion, at 2. –GL
John stuffed his phone back into his pocket and started heading to the pub. He really didn't feel like having a drink, but a nice cup of hot tea would probably calm his nerves a bit.
When John arrived at the pub, Lestrade was already there, waiting for him. John was glad to see that Lestrade hadn't brought any other members of Scotland Yard with him. Plopping down into the chair next to the DI, John set his cane down and looked expectantly at Lestrade. "We haven't traced the texts yet," Lestrade told him, "But we're on it, alright?" John nodded glumly and stared at the table. Suddenly, he felt like a cuppa wouldn't help much. "Thanks, mate," John returned at last. "You know, I don't really feel like having a drink now, so I'll see you later. I appreciate it, Lestrade, really."
"I'll text you later," Lestrade called after his retreating figure, a worried expression on his face. John didn't hear him.
John decided he should start heading back to 221B. Better not to worry Mrs. Hudson, he thought. He was walking down the road when his phone buzzed again. John extracted the phone from his pocket, groaning in exasperation. What now? He thought, opening the message. As soon as he read what it said, he suddenly stopped right in the middle of the road, open mouthed, staring dumbly at the small screen. Annoyed pedestrians glared at him and a man grumbled at John under his breath, but John didn't hear or acknowledge any of them. His mind was racing, focused only on that one message.
John, we're out of milk. –SH
John looked up. He was standing right outside Tesco.