Sherlock studied the envelope carefully. John scratched his head. "A letter?" he said.
"For me, apparently. Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Ordinary paper, looks like the kind you'd most often find in the storerooms of offices," Sherlock said, squinting at the envelope.
John shifted his weight. "Well, are you going to open it or not?" he asked.
Sherlock looked up at him quickly. "Of course I'm going to open it. But I'd rather know all that I can about the sender of the letter before I just rip it open."
John pursed his lips. "Right."
Sherlock turned the envelope over. "Looks like the sealing of the envelope was done with an envelope moistener, another indicator of the person in question being located in an office." He paused.
John raised an eyebrow.
Sherlock looked up at him, smirking. "Want me to open it, then?"
"YES."
"Alright then," Sherlock said, deftly unsealing the envelope and letting the letter fall into his outstretched hand. He slid the envelope into his pants pocket and unfolded the letter, but not at the same time, of course.
John walked up and peered at the letter with interest.
The letter was written in chicken scratch, in a figurative sense only. Sherlock's eyes raced down the page from side to side, much as a fast driver on a late Saturday night after an evening in the pub. John kept pace. Therapists' notes were already hard to decipher, but he had still managed to become quite skilled in the art of upside-down reading.
Sherlock and John looked up at each other at the same time.
"Obviously someone doesn't want us looking into this case," John said.
"I suppose that would be the practical thing to do. Leaving it to the police and all," Sherlock replied.
They both smiled.
"Brilliant," John said.
"Quite," Sherlock said.
"So, a warning," John said, nodding at the letter. "A room forbidden holds your death / Don't fathom deep, you'd lose your breath. Rather cryptic, isn't it?"
"It's not just a warning," Sherlock said, shaking his head slightly. "It's also a clue."
"A clue?"
"The word choice here is very peculiar," he said. "Don't fathom deep, you'd lose your breath. Very peculiar, indeed. Rather nautical, don't you think?"
"I suppose so. I hadn't thought of it that way."
"Of course you hadn't. This is only a hypothesis, mind you. Now, what fairytale could be related to the ocean?"
"The Little Mermaid," John said suddenly.
Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Yes, of course, Hans Christian Anderson! How did you know?"
"Oh, I saw the…a film version," John muttered.
Sherlock looked at John curiously. "Ah, I see. Well then, I think we should have look at the phone book, don't you?"
"Should we be looking for a redhead?" John said as he picked up the thick book.
"What?" Sherlock said incredulously.
"Never mind," John murmured, handing his friend the directory.
Sherlock grabbed the book and opened it, thumbing through it quickly.
John raised an eyebrow. "So what do we look under, little or mermaid?"
A/N: To be continued. Please review! Let me know what you think!