Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock
Bump
John watched as the police gathered their evidence and swept away. He hoped he had been helpful. He was fairly sure that Lestrade really wanted him there, even if Anderson and Donovan didn't. Either that or the DI was just watching out for him. John didn't really care either way; it felt wonderful to be back investigating. It wasn't the same, but still. It was good.
He was so lost in thought that he crashed headlong into another pedestrian. The old woman grumbled as John helped her pick up her things.
"Sorry—" he started, but she was already gone.
Frowning, he turned and continued into the clinic. He had just settled behind his desk to finish some paperwork, when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he said.
There was the old woman from the street. She stood uncertainly in the doorway.
"Yes?" John asked.
"Um…" came the feeble and oddly deep voice. "I wanted to… apologize for my… rudeness earlier, and to say…"
The crone shifted from foot to foot uncertainly, and then suddenly darted forward, looking at John intently. Then, just as suddenly, she turned toward the door, muttering, "Bad idea… too soon."
But as she turned, she stepped on her shawl. Before John could move, she had fallen, knocking herself unconscious on the tile floor.
AN: If you've read ACD's "The Adventure of the Empty House," you might know where this is going. If not, stop wasting your time with my writing and read it! It's way better.