A small chapter because I've been really busy with school and nanowrimo (I tried to do it in august. It didn't really work out) but to thank you for the kind comments and people that started following, I just generally wanted to give you something.
Edit: John because Raychaell Dionzeros wanted John. If anyone else wants something, by all means say so because I still have no idea what Loki and Moriarty's plan is.
Sherlock, where are you?
You can't keep doing this
I worry, okay? There's a lot of people that want you dead.
You can't just expect me to know
I'm not you, remember
Please.
John Watson threw his phone across the room. It was no use. Once Sherlock got going, there was no stopping him- certainly not for ridiculous things like a text message, or his best friend. He was Sherlock Holmes and he didn't need anyone. John sighed. He hated it when Sherlock did this to him.
He got up from his chair to make a cup of tea, but halfway to the kitchen of his apartment, he had a better idea. He walked up to the front door and called down. 'Mrs Hudson?' Mrs Hudson -who had been cleaning the hallway, even though she was not their housekeeper- looked up from her work. 'Yes dear?'
'Have you seen Sherlock this morning? I woke up and he was gone.'
Mrs Hudson wiped her hands on her skirt. 'I don't think so. There was a man for him at the door, but I didn't see him leave.' She paused. 'Come to think of it, that was probably because I was next door.'
She saw the worried look on his face and gave him a reassuring smile. 'He's Sherlock, remember? He'll be fine, he always is, in the end.' John sighed. 'Yes, he's Sherlock, and that's sort of what I'm worried about.'
'Would you like me to make you a cup of tea while you wait? Only this once, mind, I'm not your h-'
'Yes, that would be lovely.'
Mrs Hudson left for the kitchen, but John didn't return to his chair. As long as Sherlock was alive, he wasn't going to waste any more time. It ought to be easy, he told himself. If Sherlock could do it, so could he.
He got to his knees and searched the carpet for traces of the mysterious visitor. It took a few minutes before he found what he was looking for. Small dents in the carpet. Footsteps. He traced them and yes, they led upstairs. In the living room they had remained in front of the sofa for a while. Probably talking to Sherlock. And that was it. They just disappeared.
John sat down on the sofa. That wasn't possible. You couldn't just disappear. There wasn't even any sign of a struggle. He let his head fall into his hands. He had to know if Sherlock was okay, it just wasn't fair that Sherlock never seemed to realise that people cared about him.
He got distracted by his phone buzzing.
Look out of the window –SH
John frowned. Okay then. That seemed clear enough. He walked up to the window and smiled. A helicopter was flying up to the apartment. John opened the window. Sherlock never ceased to amaze him.
Did you think I could do anything without my blogger? -SH