Sunlight spilled over the horizon, painting the sky pale oranges and yellows, and the clouds a soft pink. Birds began to call to each other over the tree tops, flitting in and out of the light. The singing of the birds, however, was not the only sound adding to the morning chorus. The wail of an ambulance drifted down the driveway of the old house as it sped away.
Three men emerged from the wood. The one in uniform gently guided the other two across the gravel and toward another ambulance. Brightly coloured blankets were thrown over their shoulders as they stared vacantly at their surroundings.
"What's the time?" the shorter man asked.
"It's seven twenty, mate," the policeman supplied. He smiled, before leaving them standing in the middle of the gravel.
Lestrade clicked into gear after a moment of quiet and marched himself after the man. John stared after him, shrugging the orange blanket closer around himself.
"Doctor John!" a voice burst out behind him.
He turned to see a pair standing next to a police van, the girl smiling and the man looking disinterested. The corners of his mouth turned up and he made his way over to the two.
As the doctor drew closer, he found that despite her grin Madeleine looked a little pained, and Sherlock's look was more of concern than disinterest.
"Are you all right?" she asked, eyeing the orange blanket.
He blinked. "Yeah, yeah, fine, I guess."
xsherlockx
According to John's bedside clock, it was '8:37pm'. A heavy feeling settled over the doctor as he realised he had spent the day in bed, a day which should have been spent at work, a day which he could have spent flirting with Sarah.
"Damn..." he muttered, rolling over.
Something smelled bloody good though.
He dragged himself from the tangle of sheets and managed some pants, a t-shirt and slippers before opening the door and shuffling down to the kitchen. Apart from Sherlock's usual experiments on the central island, a bowl of soup sat, steaming away.
It took John approximately three seconds to claim the bowl and spoon beside it. He wandered into the lounge area – bowl still in hand – and was quietly relieved that there was no one occupying the room. Sitting himself down in one of the armchairs, he sighed, savouring the silence.
"I can't believe you," a muffled shout came from behind the apartment door.
There were several thuds as feet made their way up the stairs, and then a louder one as the door to the kitchen was swung open from the hallway.
John groaned inwardly, and tried to be as interested in his soup as he possibly could.
"There's not much else for your here," Sherlock's voice grew louder as he entered the lounge. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed John in his customary seat, but only paused for a brief moment before moving over to the desk and opening his laptop.
There was a clatter in the kitchen, as something fell that John couldn't see. Madeleine joined them,
"I'm not going," she stated.
"Well you might just have to," Sherlock retorted.
"Nice walk?"
Both of them looked toward John as though he had two heads before starting up again.
"It's not your choice."
"Well it isn't yours either if you're not going to play 'parent'."
"That again?" the detective droned, sitting down.
"I'd much rather stay with Doctor John." She folded her arms, obviously decided.
"I'm so glad you'd rather stay with him and not me,"
She paused.
"I can't tell if you're serious or not..."
"Won't you have Mycroft to annoy? That's always fun."
"No, I get stuck with his girlfriend, and you know how dull she is."
"I wasn't aware my brother did relationships."
"You'll let me stay with you won't you, Doctor John?" Madeleine turned to him.
She was not pleading, which irked him a little; her voice had more a demanding tone. That he had just woken up after a long night of running after her classmates added another factor to his prejudice against her at that moment.
After a silence, he managed, "I suppose..."
Madeleine threw her father a victory smile, before collecting her half-open suitcase off the couch and disappearing out of the room.
"Now I have to find her something to do," Sherlock sighed.
He began to type, seemingly unbothered.
"Sherlock?"
"Mmm?"
"What happened at Saint Mary's?"
The sharp tapping stopped as the consulting detective considered the question.
"Madeleine solved the case," was all he said.
"M-Madeleine?" John spluttered into his soup.
Sherlock turned his head ever so slightly to gauge the doctor's reaction before a smile turned the ends of his lips up.
"Well, one point to her then," John chuckled.
"No." Sherlock spun in his seat to face John. "She already knew everything, which does not count."
John's chuckle grew into a laugh, which caused a momentary look of confusion from his friend.
After he had calmed down, John asked, "So when did you figure it all out?"
"When we went to Saint Mary's the first time. I already knew they were using Wiccan methods to kill their victims, and the pentagrams on the girl's sides being already cut when they were alive suggested that it was done by choice. The only reason a sisterhood of witches would kill each other is through betrayal. I learnt that through the book I found at the bookstore, the same one they had in the library at their school, which I now have to pay a 52 pound fine for. But all that only proved that Madeleine knew everything already, I was merely accompanying her after that."
"Well that seems a little boring..."
"Indeed." Sherlock swivelled back to his laptop.
John slurped up more of his soup, and Sherlock replied to an e-mail.
"So, when I was in the cave with Lestrade, where were you?"
"In a taxi."
"And where were you when they stripped us both naked and decided to put us in a pot to boil?"
"... Sorry?" Sherlock whipped back around.
John smirked at his own joke.
"You were at the school when I showed up, and Madeleine had sent me a message telling me you were coming. And I got a call from Molly Hooper on your phone."
"Where is my phone?"
"Dunno. Answer the question."
Sherlock gave him a sharp look before replying, "We ran into the Coven."
"Right."
"They had a girl with them who they were planning to kill. Number one priority is to solve the case, number two is to make sure no one gets killed."
John looked slightly appalled, but nodded for Sherlock to continue.
"So we took the half-dead girl back to the school building where Madeleine had already called for an ambulance," Sherlock finished.
"And the cut?"
"What cut?"
"I'm a doctor, Sherlock, not an idiot. Madeleine has a cut up her arm the length of the channel tunnel," John told him.
"Let's not exaggerate, John," Sherlock replied.
"You don't even care though," he retorted.
"What would you like me to do? Put her to bed and spoon feed her soup while her arm gets better?" Sherlock growled, eyeing the soup in John's lap.
A held back giggle escaped John's lips. Sherlock's face grew darker.
"So what happened?" John asked when he had composed himself.
"Nothing," Sherlock huffed. He folded his arms, and turned away.
"Fine, then I'll find something for Madeleine to do. How long do you think she will stay? Considering that Saintt Mary's has most probably been shut down permanently," John asked out loud.
He went back to his soup, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock stared at the laptop screen.
"There was a knife," Sherlock mumbled after a while.
"Go on."
Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, he really wasn't used to being patronised.
"Sherlock," John urged from behind him.
His webpage refreshed itself, and a new e-mail shone proudly in bold. Thankful for a distraction, Sherlock ignored John's gaze and opened it up.
"Brilliant," he breathed.
"What?"
But the detective was already up and grabbing his coat from its hook. There were thumps down the stairs and a loud bang as the front door to 221 closed.
John frowned at his empty bowl.
xsherlockx
"Did Daddy leave?" Madeleine asked, reappearing in the kitchen as John looked for more food.
"Yup."
"Where did he go?"
"No idea."
"Why is there a sword in his room?"
John straightened up and turned to look at her.
"It's Sherlock... does he have a reason for anything?"
"It was in his sock drawer," she told him.
"I honestly don't know, Madeleine," John sighed.
"There is a scratch on the table."
"That's been there for a while."
John went back to looking through a cupboard. He could not decide between some biscuits or half stale cake.
"The sword made the scratch."
He smiled to himself, and turned back to –
"Jesus!" he jumped back.
Madeleine had the sword by the hilt , seeming to have pulled it from thin air, and was holding it up. She tipped it forward to the table – causing John to flinch – and ran the tip along the scrape.
"You guys don't... you know... do role-play stuff or something." Her eyes flickered up to meet his.
"What? God – Madeleine. No!" he stammered.
Her eyes widened, but the smallest hint of amusement still held there.
"It's all right if you do," she said plainly. "I'm going to put this back."
Madeleine promptly left him in the kitchen.
xsherlockx
John decided on the stale cake, and seated himself down in front of the telly, opting for a show that did not require constant attention.
"He's sleeping with another woman," a low voice said from behind him.
The cake tumbled to the ground, the plate it was sitting on following with a loud 'clang'.
"What the hell, Sherlock?"
"It's obvious isn't it? He's not touching her, or sitting close to her, or even looking at her, not to mention that there's a small indentation on his left ring finger where his wedding band would be. Surely he would have put it back on for the show..."
"Where did you disappear to?"
"Scotland Yard, you weren't needed. I picked up some files."
"A new case already?" John hurriedly muted the telly and shifted himself to get a better look at the detective.
"Not for me, for Madeleine."
John frowned, "You're giving Madeleine a case?"
"You will help her."
"I'm sorry?"
"He means babysitting..." Madeleine's voice came from the room behind the fridge.
Sherlock's head twisted up at an odd angle toward the door.
"What's she doing in my room?" he hissed.
"You want me to babysit your daughter? Do I get paid? What are you going to be doing?"
Sherlock looked back down to John, beginning in a low tone;
"I have other things that need attending too, smaller cases. I will get paid money for them, John, and with all the bills I thought you'd be pleased that I took the responsibility to find myself some jobs to keep up an income instead of spending my time trying to find something to occupy my daughter while she stays here," Sherlock smiled, a little too pleased with himself.
"What's the case?" Madeleine asked, appearing at the archway.
"A murder."
"Obviously."
John eyed Sherlock as he crossed the room, handing a folder to Madeleine.
She opened it, scanning the first page, while John sighed.
"Hubert Walton. Weight: three hundred and thirty pounds."
Ninth Chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.
Oh yes, you're getting another case.
Please remember to review. It brings a smile to my face each time I see I have a new one. It only takes a couple of seconds :)
Oh yeah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone :)