I'm sat reading the paper while Sherlock is ranting at the world, standing by the fireplace, shouting at the stupidity of everyone.
The room is an utter mess, plates and tea cups litter the room, the general detritus of two men sharing a small space, seems to be highlighted by the light streaming through the windows.
I glance outside, wishing not for the first time, I could just step outside, feel that sun on my skin, step into the wide open gardens, feel the grass and wind. I'm grateful for my place here, a warm soft bed, food, shelter, and Sherlock whom I now think of as a friend. I have lived here now for months, Sherlock is over the worse of his withdrawal, with a regular caseload from Enola, and he is kept just at the edge of his destructive boredom. He has even found interest in going through his collected belongings, unpacking the oddest collection of personal belongings.
Who am I to complain a man with nothing, but a skull, a silk Persian slipper, a gem heeled dagger, and a harpoon seem a little odd to me. The afternoon he unpacked that particular box however was the first time I saw him genuinely happy, beaming smile, and a twirling dance with his skull. While Enola and I just stood by the doorway and watched.
Suddenly Sherlock stops ranting, his head coked and his ears as always pricked and listening for something. He runs to the window that overlooks the courtyard.
"John" he hisses "come and look at this."
I walk over and see Enola and Mycroft arguing in the courtyard. "They're arguing"
"How wonderfully observed" Sherlock replies dryly, "but why?"
I look again and see Mycroft shaking his head, while Enola waves a black file under his nose.
"Police report" Sherlock tells me, answering the question on my lips, "a case she can't crack."
"I didn't know she had one, not since the flaming barge case?" I ask
"She's been working on one for a while; obviously she's reached a point where she needs some extra help."
"From Mycroft?" I ask
"No, that's not why their arguing" he laughs, then leaves the window and dances about "They want me"
"What?" I ask thinking of the piles of finished cases that are scattered around our room.
"Enola is asking Mycroft to release us, to go on this investigation." He tells me, with a childlike glee.
"Really?" I can't believe it, the chance to go outside "do they think we're going to run away?"
"Possibly, it's rather likely after all"
"Don't"
"Don't what"
"If they let us go, don't do anything stupid."
"John if I have the chance to leave this hole, I will not do anything to jeopardise that, I have no intention on being dragged back by Mycroft."
"Good"
"But John?"
"Sherlock?"
"A CASE!"