AN: I said the next would come soon!
But its a short one.. and a two parter... and hopefully will be up tomorrow
Enjoy =D
5i
John had gone without him: a case, without him. Sherlock thought that he would stay with him, stay in 221b. Annoyingly, he was wrong. And for some unknown reason, it hurt. It hurt that John had left him for a murder case. But why? Why did it hurt? He liked John - as a friend that is - and John understood and tolerated him. The thing was, Sherlock Holmes didn't really understand John, and that was what made him interesting. To him anyway, and not many people managed to do that.
But what made it hurt?
'He's gone to Lestrade to help with a murder case, he'll b…' He stopped mid-thought, collapsing backwards onto his bed. 'Murder case… oh...'
The memories flooded back, the ones that just refused to be deleted, the ones that caused him to hurt…
'He had just left Baker Street, bored, alone, and annoyed; annoyed at John's refusal. Why didn't he want to help him overcome his boredom? Ah yes, he was 'tired'… Well, if John couldn't help him. Maybe Lestrade could… Pulling out his phone, he dialled him.
"Its half two in the morning, what do you want?" The tired voice of the DI sounded after several minutes of waiting.
"Case. Now." He demanded, stopping abruptly. Lestrade sighed.
"I'm afraid there's none, Sherlock. London has been quiet for the past month… Now if you don't mind, I'd like to use that time to actually have some rest."
"Rest? Rest? What is it with everyone wanting a 'rest'? I'm bored, Lestrade. Bored… Bored… Bored! There's nothing for me to do… Nothing! There has to be something! A small one perhaps, a cat stuck up a tree? A small theft?"
"Look, there's nothing. Like I said, Lon-" He hung up, pocketing the phone. What was the use in listening to Lestrade repeat himself? Stupid criminals, can't they see that he's bored?
He carried on walking. He didn't care where, he didn't care why, he just kept walking, trying to ease off the boredom. And that was when he saw her; the young girl – eighteen, by the looks of it - walk into the alley. He followed, unsure of what he was doing. What was he going to do? Still, he kept his distance. Following, watching, and deducing everything. She turned round a corner, escaping his sight. He walked faster, trying to catch up with-
"Let go of me!"
Sherlock stopped.
"I said let go of – oh god, please… stop…"
Paling, he tried to turn round, to get away, but he couldn't. He was too… intrigued… fascinated… by the commotion from around the corner… and he hated it, he hated himself. Worst of all, he couldn't stop himself from walking, walking towards the noise.