Caught
John barely noticed the door slamming and Sherlock thundering up the stairs. He merely peeked out from the book he was reading to pass the time. Sherlock flopped onto his usual sofa and crossed his arms, staring at the ceiling.
"Interesting time in the real world?" John muttered. "I want my money back Sherlock, I didn't even bet you that I couldn't tell you what I was-" he was shocked as Sherlock took the now crumpled note from his pocket and chucked it onto the coffee table. John leaned over and picked up the money expecting Sherlock to make some retort that would end with him keeping the money but it never came. There was an uneasy silence in the room. Sherlock wasn't in his usual bored silence it was something else. He seemed almost upset about something.
"Why couldn't I get a fix?" Sherlock whispered. John groaned.
"Sherlock I've told you, just have a damn cigarette!" he cried. Not the best advice from a doctor but he was living with a man who just left used patches all over the flat, many of which ended up on the soles of Johns feet when he was stupid enough to not wear socks and quite frankly, he was at the end of his tether.
Sherlock looked at him eyebrows raised.
"What are you on about John?" he drawled.
John sighed and closed his book.
"Ok what's wrong Sherlock?" he asked quietly.
"There was this woman at Scotland Yard!" Sherlock exclaimed making John jump.
John sighed again.
"What did she do? Kill her husband less than an hour ago and you knew this because she was wearing gloves to cover the blood because she couldn't wash her hands? Yet the police were yet to realize this, so you saved the day and caught the killer" he said sarcastically.
Sherlock glared at him.
"Don't be ridiculous John. Its winter, perfectly plausible that she would be wearing gloves". He paused contemplating his thoughts.
"She was just so goddam frustrating! I couldn't get a read on her!" he bellowed louder still.
"And that automatically means there's something wrong- hang on you couldn't get a read on her?" John said astonished as he processed what he had actually just heard.
"Yes John, I couldn't get a read on someone. And close your mouth, you'll let flies in" the collected and insulting Sherlock was back.
"Anyway I need your help with something, get your coat" he said jumping to his feet and physically throwing his coat at him. John had wondered why he hadn't taken his coat and scarf off when he came into the house. He shrugged on his coat as he ran after Sherlock.
"This isn't about this girl is it?" he shouted after him.
"No, course not" Sherlock shouted back from downstairs.
"Sherlock- who's –house? Ow that was my face.." John grunted as Sherlock's foot collided with his cheekbone.
"Hang on... Got it!" he said triumphantly as the lock on the fire escape clicked and the staircase swung down. Sherlock let out a slight oof as took his foot of John's shoulder and half- fell ,half –jumped back onto the floor. He straightened up and looked up into the flat above. He started up the staircase. John followed as quietly as possible.
"Sherlock, whose apartment is this?" John whispered. Sherlock said nothing but looked back at him slightly flushed. John who hadn't even realised that Sherlock could look as sheepish as he just did, and he realized what was going on immediately.
"Oh Sherlock! Were breaking into this girls flat aren't we? I mean did you follow her home or something?" Silence. "Oh my god you followed her home! Sherlock!"
"I have to know who she is!" Sherlock hissed at him.
"Wow Sherlock this takes highly-functioning sociopath into a new level... can't you just let it go?" John said pushing himself in from of him. He knew full well what answer to expect.
"Look I can't let it go... There was just something about her" he said through gritted teeth. That was not the answer he expected. John looked at him curiously.
"You like her don't you?" he said slowly. Sherlock glared at him.
"I thought girlfriends weren't your area. I thought you were-"
"For the last time, John!" Sherlock butted in. "Just because I haven't found a girl I've connected with in a while."
"Oh so you admit that you connected with her?" John taunted. Sherlock eyes narrowed even further.
"Look can we just get on with this" he snapped forcing his way past John and before he could object Sherlock was halfway through the window.
"Oh for Christ sakes" John muttered, starting after him.
Sherlock winced as he eased his way into the apartment. The window did not make for an elegant entrance. And add to the fact that he was far from a short man and had cracked his head on the frame no less than two... 3 times.
Slowly but surely he felt his feet touch carpet. He gingerly took a few steps into the flat ignoring the grunts and groans of John making his way through the window.
The flat was clean-ish, slightly cluttered in the main lounge area but overall mainly neat and tidy. Sherlock peered into the kitchen and saw a several dirty saucepans in the sink even though there was a dishwasher humming in the corner.
"Must have turned it on before she had her meal" Sherlock muttered to herself. John tapped him on the shoulder having finally made it through the window.
"Sherlock! This is breaking and entering. Sure I make some exceptions when it's involved in a case but this is just because you met one person who you couldn't deduct something from." John hissed at Sherlock who had picked up something from the sideboard and was currently examining it with a look of pure concentration on his face.
"John, what would you say that this says about her?" he said brandishing the object under his nose.
"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"
"Over 50 years old... interesting I would only have guessed at her to be about my age ,so I must assume that it was either bought in a charity shop within the last 10 years or passed down through the generations, and it's here for sentimental values. Most likely the latter since the apartment is almost completely void of anything personal excluding a bit of washing and a few books. I knew she liked books. What's that noise?" he muttered under his breath, not really directing it towards anyone.
John sighed and closed his eyes.
"Sherlock... ok you've got something about her can we-"he was silenced as a something collided with the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor as Sherlock span at the noise to meet the furious eyes of the girl he had met at the station, wearing nothing but a towel and brandishing a frying pan.
"What the hell are you doing in here!" she shrieked. John rolled on the floor and clutched his head where the pan had hit him. She glared at him and turned back to Sherlock.
"Well? What are you-" she started. Her eyes widened in realisation as she recognised Sherlock.
"YOU!" she shouted. She backed towards the wall one hand holding the saucepan, one hand desperately trying to cover herself with a towel.
"How'd you get the saucepan?" Sherlock said carefully.
"Yes because you're in the position to be asking me questions" she hissed before falling silent. Sherlock looked at her expectantly.
"There's another doorway round the corner" she muttered. Sherlock nodded.
"So what are you doing here? Someone send you to finish me off? Is that what that whole little thing in the station was about? If so.." she said looking down at where John was still heaving himself to his feet , whilst rubbing his head. She looked back at Sherlock, a slight smirk on her face.
"No it's not that. No offence but you don't seem like the stealthiest couple, I mean I must have heard you crack your head on the window at least twice and you didn't hear me coming" she pointed out.
Sherlock took a step forward. She raised the pan slightly again.
"Well it was three times actually" he said sheepishly. The girl continued to glare at him.
"Well the question still stands. What are you doing here?" she asked again.
Sherlock frowned and gave her the once over with his eyes. Nothing. He groaned and shook his head, attempting to clear the fogs that were most obviously clouding his usually impeccable judgement. He took another step towards her and looked deep into her eyes, seeing more than people normally see before spinning on the spot and eyes surveying all the time. He pummelled his head with his hand.
"I'm missing something! I never miss anything!" he groaned. He flopped into a chair oblivious that both John and the woman were staring bewildered at him.
The woman let the frying pan fall from her hand. The clattering noise made John flinch as the pain in the back of his head flared once more. The woman looked at him apologetically.
"I'm sorry about that... I mean I see now you were probably just pulled along on the ride by" she gestured with her over at Sherlock.
"But really I just saw a strange man in my apartment after... well let's just say you were lucky I wasn't in the bedroom... the microscope would have been heavier" she said slightly apologetically with still a hint of anger nestled in her voice.
"I thought you said you weren't a scientist?" Sherlock called from in his hands. She turned and looked at him.
"No I just said I didn't work there... I never said I wasn't a scientist" she scoffed. "To be fair I was so shocked that you got it right that I was immediately on the defence... Now if you boys will excuse me, it's quite cold in here and..." she said looking round and staring shocked at Sherlock as he waved her away.
"Should have hit the other one with the frying pan... might have of shut him up " she muttered to herself as she walked into a room down the corridor. John watched her curvy form disappear with a dopey smile on his face.
"Well she seems... swell" he marvelled. Sherlock snorted, the noise echoed from the cup he was making with his hands.
"Nice choice of words there John" he said looking up at the blushing man. He got to his feet, his forehead furrowed in concentration.
He huffed and grabbed John by the shoulder who was staring at the door the woman had disappeared into. He shook him slightly ignoring the other man's protests.
"What am I missing John! It seems like I'm missing more as time goes..." his eyes widened and surveyed the room. They flicked up and down before settling on the object he had picked up from the sideboard.
"John... please tell me you're wearing a watch" he breathed his eyes focused on the object. John absent minded checked his wrist, staring at is as well.
"No." He whispered, suddenly very aware of a ticking that had been soft when they had clambered through the window but had become slightly higher and faster as they had been standing there. Sherlock's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall... 7.33... stopped. The clock at Baker Street had been displaying 7.11 (the correct time to the second of course) when they left, it had taken them 19 minutes to get to and into and the flat and they had been talking for no more than 2 minutes... Sherlock did a quick mental calculation.
"GET OUT!" he shouted. He bolted for the door and wrenched it open. He turned and screamed at John again to get out. Flinging the door open to the other room and ignoring the woman's shocked yells, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the flat, John hot on their heels.
"What the hell is going on!" the woman shrieked, but carried on running at the pace that the man dragging her was setting. Sherlock pulled the door open, shoved both John and the woman through it.
They carried on running, following Sherlock who had somehow grasped hold of the woman's wrist again. John was screaming at the people in the street to run, unaware what was going on. Many stared at the strange trio of two men dragging a half dressed woman down the street but they quickly caught onto the urgency of the situation and scattered in every direction. Sherlock in the meantime had ground to a halt causing both the woman he was dragging to slam into his back.
She span him around and slammed him hard against the wall beside them. Sherlock smirked.
"Ah now I know something about you... regular gym goer" he said mock rubbing his arms. She ground her teeth in frustration.
"NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME AND STOP WITH THIS DEDUCTING THING YOU HAVE GOING ON! WHAT THE HELL IS..." she screamed only to be cut off by a huge booming explosion from round the corner they had just turned. The woman shrieked and buried her face in Sherlock's chest, shielding herself and him from the violent explosion. Sherlock was suddenly touched from the woman's gesture, wherein she had actually thought of him when she was in obvious danger. She sobbed quietly as realisation dawned and she barely noticed warm, coated arms sneak around her back and pull her closer.