Follow me

After another few hours of dull silence from the miserable detective, I stood up. I craved some kind of adrenaline. I wanted to know how they drugged me. How they killed Jacqueline. I wanted to investigate. Oh good lord. I'm becoming like Sherlock. I stretched a little, which caught Sherlock's attention. He watched as I carefully extend my limbs in order to liven up the muscles. My head wasn't hurting anymore, it just looked sore so I kept the bandage on, out of dignity. I had a plan: I would text Lestrade, meet him and consult with him. Yes, that sounds good. I nodded to myself, licking my lips. "Right" I went to walk towards the door but Sherlock interjected.

"Lestrade won't see you." I just looked at him quizically. "He won't see me and that John, certainly is saying something."

I sighed. I needed movement, thrill, some fun! After doing this for so long, you forget all of the woes of chasing criminals and instead examine the sheer adrenaline that you endorse in doing it, it was incredibly exhilarating. I felt like I was in my late adolescence. I had the capability to do whatever I liked, but I was still under the ruling of a higher power whom prevented me. Sod this. I smiled to myself- I knew exactly what I was going to do. I retrieved my phone from my pocket, clumsily. I unlocked it and began to compose a message:

"Sarah, fancy going for a drink? Been cooped up all day. JW x"

You might be confused as to why I'd text Sarah, I mean I used to try get off with her. Well, I liked her true enough, but no longer in a romantic way. The truth was, when Sherlock was absent, she was there for me a lot- though I could be a little dismissive towards her. I cared for her as she was my boss, but I had a good laugh with her. I needed fun. I also needed space from the broody detective, his moods could suck the happiness dry out of the room. It took only a couple of seconds to recieve a reply.

"Be at Betty's in an hour, Sarah x"

I smiled broader, resembling the Cheshire Cat I assume. I paced quickly back to my bedroom,I removed my bandage and I gelled my hair neatly after putting on a smart shirt and cardigan. I splashed on some expensive aftershave- a christmas present from Sarah. I looked at my head carefully, the bruising had gone down a little. I decided to abandon the bandage, it was getting dark out anyway, surely no-one would notice? I closed my bedroom door carefully, eager to leave the flat. As I reached the living room, Sherlock was stood up, arms folded, looking at me scornfully. I could feel my shoulders tensing and my smile being forced into a line. What was the problem now? He scanned me, his face contorted.

"You're going out."

"Yes, well done."

"Not quite sticking to the Inspector's inpenetratable instructions." He said, taking on the manor of a child. He looked stroppy.

"That wasn't your attitude before?" I looked away from him. I couldn't face those eyes after making comments because he'd freeze me, not with his handsome looks, but with his ice-cold words that would rudely slip off of his tongue. I just braced myself and waited.

I looked at him again, he still appeared stern, his whole body tense. He was worried, though I couldn't decipher why. It still astonished me how riddled with suprises one man could be. He always acted with precision and complete spontinuity. He was a brilliant contridiction. I shook my head, flattery filled me up. It calmed me to know he cared. I just walked towards him, I awkwardly placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed a little. Then I left the house quickly, leaving Sherlock in the flat to probably begin on some gruesome experiment.

The air had a chilly bite to it, which clung to you. I wished I had brought my jacket as well as my cardigan. After keeping my arms crossed tightly, preserving warmth a taxi arrived.

"Betty's" I said calmly. The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.

Betty's was a kind of pub/club that played all kinds of music. In one of my darkest days of grieving, Sarah had convinced me to accompany her on its opening and it had been one of the best days of those hopeless times, which really, really was saying something. It had the same vibe and look of your usual bar's, but it had that touch of "club" that seemed dark and futuristic. It had a good reputation too, there were rarely any fights or attacks and the staff were completely proffessional- providing a safe atmosphere, well as safe as an establishment like that could be. It was near Trafalgar Square, on the corner of a side street. It was incredibly popular, understandably.

Finally, the cab arrived. I paid the man and left, looking at the busy entrance and scanning the area for Sarah. One of the bouncers noticed me, leaving the entrance to speak to me. Odd.

"Are you.." The burly man looked down at the black clipboard his bear-sized hand was clutching. "John Watson?"

I choked a little, forgetting my name. The man was incredibly intimidating afterall. It seemed that Sarah had been incredibly organised tonight. Though I hadn't expected her to be able to accomplish this, usually the bouncer's would still make me queue up.

"Y-yes, yeah that's me." I smiled.

He nodded. "Follow me."