Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.
Chapter 4
When I had ended the call to Sherlock he was walking back and forth in the apartment at 221B Baker Street. My companion had decided to travel to Malmö the following day to meet me, knowing he had a mystery to solve because of the way our conversation had ended earlier that evening. Sherlock arrived to Malmö Airport at 7:45 am the following day and took a cab from Sturup to the hotel I was staying at to see me. During the drive to the hotel Sherlock looked at the landscape passing by the cab's window, a mixture of forest and agricultural fields almost the whole drive into Malmö City, which Sherlock knew was the third biggest city of Sweden. The cab stopped outside Clarion Hotel which was a newly built building complex containing hotel, concert hall, and apartments.
My companion walked into the hotel, and asked the receptionist; "Could you please tell me which room Dr. John Watson is staying at?" After a quick glance at the computer the receptionist, whose name tag said her name was Ingrid, said "Watson? He's in room 2212, sir."
"Thank you, miss," Sherlock replied.
On his way to the elevator, Sherlock looked around the lobby, a very open and spacious place. But all in all, a very common hotel lobby with plants, and sofas in groups, with a small bar before the entrance to the hotel restaurant where the last breakfast guests were on their way to leave.
Sherlock stepped into the elevator and pressed number 22. Well at the 22nd floor he got out and continued to my hotel room 2212. Sherlock knocked at the door, without the knowledge of me not being there, in his own determined way. After two knocks Sherlock got impatient and felt the doorknob, and as I had not had the time to lock it after me as I had stormed out the evening before after I had received the message. The door was open and Sherlock stepped in. Among the first things he saw was a long thin stroke at the wall just to the right of him as he proceeded through the short and narrow hallway. As my companion got into my room he found a weak dragging mark on the carpet, just about the same as he had seen on the carpet in the corridor between the elevator and my room. He saw my wallet lying on the desk and that the rest of the room was in an untidy manner which gave him a feeling of discomfort as he knew about my otherwise neatly preference.
At this moment, Sherlock took his phone and dialed my number without getting any answer, so he tried again and this time someone answered.
"Hello." The voice belonged to a woman Sherlock was unfamiliar with.
"Hello," he said, "to whom am I speaking?"
It got quiet for an instant, "You are speaking to Sara and I am a nurse at the University Hospital here in Malmö," the woman's voice replied.
"I am seeking Dr. John Watson, is he there?" Sherlock asked.
"Is that his name?" Sara, the nurse, wondered aloud.
"We have a man who came in late last night unconscious, without any form of ID," she continued.
"My colleague wears a square shaped Tag Heuer with black leather straps, his right Loakes shoe is more worn out than the left and he has a lime-tinged aftershave," Sherlock explained.
"Sorry?"
"He is about 5 foot 11 and approximately 170 pounds with light, short hair," he replied in a demeaning manner.
"That seems about right."
"I will come at once," Sherlock said, grabbing my wallet and swiftly walking back to the elevators. He went down to the lobby, asking the receptionist, Ingrid, to call him a cab so he could get to the hospital.
On his way to the hospital Sherlock passed the city Library with its beautiful surroundings of Kungsparken and some of Malmö´s most beautiful buildings. As the drive went on he also passed Pildammsparken where many people were running or walking.
The cab rolled up in front of the the hospital, Sherlock paid the driver and rushed into the reception and asked where the John Doe, who came in late last night, was lying. He got the answer that I was lying in the intensive care department.
When I opened my eyes, it was a blurry sight at first, and I could not make sense of the environment I found myself in. I wondered what had happened to me as I slowly but steady got my sight back, and I saw my companion sitting in a chair, inspecting me beside my bed.
"You're here!" I exclaimed in surprise. Feeling a thundering headache and a sore neck.
"Yes, I got the feeling you could need some assistance, give me all the details you remember from yesterday," Sherlock answered.
As my consciousness returned, I could more easily remember my doings the day before. "Well, as you can imagine it is still a bit dim, but I will tell you what I remember from yesterday," said I.
As I told him my movements during yesterday afternoon and evening; my arrival, the purchase of the ring, my lecture, the people I had meet, and as I told him I could see Sherlock doing these characteristic facial expressions he usually does when he finds a clue during our cases or when something becomes clear to him. I can remember me wonder why at the time.
"Well, whether you want it or not we are to go to your conference tomorrow as planned, I have some interesting theories to apply," said Sherlock. I was surprised and could not manage to answer something other than, "Yes, if you say so. I'm fine by the way, thank you for asking."