Chapter 6- The Window
A/n: honestly, I don't know what happened. I'm really, really sorry about the wait. But here it is finally. Sorry again, hope you enjoy xxx
Things seemed, relievingly, to go back to normal the next day, which was weird after the weeks of silence and tension. After falling asleep, shattered and on edge, in my chair, I woke up to a spectacularly loud and exuberant Sherlock who was decorating the wall with an array of bullets.
Funnily enough, I actually didn't mind at all. I just let him get on with it. It wasn't as if Mrs Hudson was here anymore. And it was such a nice change to have the normal Sherlock back. I yawned.
"John," he said cheerfully, as he saw me watching him. He waved the gun at me, "I found the gun!"
"So I can see," I smiled. Really, I wasn't bothered at all. He looked surprised at my reaction, but decided to continue anyway. I watched him happily for a while, before realising that perhaps letting him have free reign over the gun wasn't really the best idea after all. Pretty soon, the wall would be non existent.
"Ok, that's enough now," I reached over to pull the gun out his hand, but he swerved away from me, gun held as far away as he could. He pulled a face.
"But this is fun," he protested, "and it helps me think,"
"Oh?" there was no way I was letting him keep the gun. I army tackled him on the sofa, and pressed his arm down forcefully, but still, the gun evaded my grip. He rolled on to his side to make it harder for me, "and what are you thinking about?"
"Anything- everything, " he somehow managed to shrug even though I had him in a headlock in my quest to reach the gun.
"Sherlock!" I cried, finally exasperated, "this is childish!"
"Says the man who's got his arm around my neck," he scoffed, though finally relenting, and passing me the gun. I sighed in relief, and released him, clambering off the sofa awkwardly.
He was silent for a moment, whilst I emptied the cartridge, and hid the remaining bullets, but then,
"I think I've got a lead,"
My head snapped up, and I nearly dropped the gun.
"You what?" I spluttered.
"A lead, I think I have one,"
I stared at him for long time, before I regained use of my tongue.
"And?"
He looked at me vacantly, "and what?"
I sighed impatiently, "and what are you thinking?"
He blinked rapidly, and then jumped up, heading over to the window and dragging me with him. He pushed me in front so that I was so close to the glass my nose was almost touching it.
"It's so obvious, I can't believe I missed it the first time," he hissed furiously to himself, hands still firmly in place on my shoulders, "now John, what do you see?"
I peered out of the window, I saw the flat opposite, the busy street crammed with people, the red car pulled up on the side of the road. Just a normal day.
"I see Baker Street," I told him, and he snorted.
"You don't say?"sarcasm flowed thick in his voice, "look closer, what else do you see?"
God I hated it when he did this to me, he really made me feel stupid, though I suppose, that wasn't hard.
I looked out to the street again, trying to imagine what Sherlock would see, trying to see with his reasoning. I saw the people on the street, the young girl and the mom who looked tired and sad. The red car, with the woman on the phone, drumming her fingers on the wheel. The flat opposite, the dirty window at the same level as ours, curtains drawn. I saw...
Huh?
I glanced up again, at the window. It was midday, why would they close the curtains?
"The- the curtains?" I pointed out quizzically, "they're closed?"
"Good! And what does that mean?"
"Umm," I bit my lip, furrowing my brow. Why would someone close the curtains at midday?
"Coz they're... Light sensitive? I dunno," I shrugged, and he sighed, plainly irritated.
"Listen, those curtains do not open, they've been like that for weeks, so either it's abandoned..." he trailed off, as if waiting for me to catch on.
"-or someone wants to make it look like that?" I questioned. Sherlock beamed.
"Good John! Took you long enough to get there, but good anyway," he released me and started winding his scarf around his neck.
"What the- what are you doing?" I spluttered, as he tossed me my coat.
"We need to check it out John! I've been thinking about it all morning, and it's the only possible way to get a proper clue! It's the first clue we've had for weeks!" on went his coat, and I was reminded suddenly of the times before the... The fall, when days were always about rushing about, running around London like lunatics. I blinked.
"But you're in hiding," I said lamely. He wrinkled his nose.
"being I'm hiding is boring, plus no one will see, if they're not looking for it,"
And then, before I could comprehend much more, I was pushed roughly out the door, until I found myself blinking in the winter light. Sherlock wasted no time, and ran across the road, narrowly missing an on coming car. I cursed quietly. The man was going to give me a heart attack one of these days. Honestly.
I waited until the road was quiet, and then followed suit, finding Sherlock around the back of the house, perched on a ledge, the bitter wind ruffling his hair. He spotted me and pointed at the window, looking satisfied about something.
"Look here John, fingerprints all over it, someone opens and closes this regularly,"
"So it's not abandoned then," I remarked.
"Obviously," he peered a little closer, teetering on the edge of the ledge, making me rather anxious.
I bit my lip and refrained from saying anything, knowing he would probably snap at me if I did.
He started gently prising around the edges of the window.
"He uses it so often he wouldn't have bothered to shut it," he muttered so quickly I hardly caught it, "he doesn't use the door, he wants to give the impression that this is abandoned,"
"Wait-" I ran a hand through my hair, confused, "you think this is Moran?"
"It's stupid to make assumptions," he said softly, "but we have proof," he leant forward some more, and breathed on a small part of the glass, fogging it up. Fingerprints showed up clear as day, all over the bottom of the window.
"Brilliant," I breathed.
"Call Lestrade, tell him we need to do some DNA checks,"
"I haven't got a phone," I reminded him.
He rolled his eyes and tossed me his, attention still focused completely on the window.
I unlocked it, and after a moment, decided not to phone him and texted him instead, and half an hour later, we were back in the flat, with Lestrade, who looked incredibly stressed, but quite relieved.
"Thank bloody god you found a lead," he said, "I was really starting to give up hope,"
"What, did you expect Moran to be one of those morons you see every day?" Sherlock scoffed, "it took me months! Me!"
Lestrade grimaced, "I thought that with your brother being 'all powerful' and all, it would be easier," he sighed, and put the package containing the fingerprint DNA in his jacket pocket, "We'll get this done straight away,"
Sherlock nodded; after a sharp look from me, "thank you,"
"I just bloody hope you're right,"
"I'm nearly always right," Sherlock snapped back.
Lestrade rolled his eyes, and shifted his weight to his other foot, crossing his arms.
"We found another body," he said, trying to stay casual, "it hasn't been a week yet,"
"The same as before?" I asked.
"Exactly- the man's name was John,"
"He's speeding up, telling us out time is running out," Sherlock muttered to himself, "the question is, what are we supposed to be doing that requires a time limit?"
"Unless he's counting down to the finale," Lestrade said grimly.
"My death," I finished for him quietly. Sherlock looked up, wide eyed, and met mine. I smiled tightly, trying to show him that I wasn't afraid, when to be honest, I really was.
I don't think I fooled him.
Lestrade looked pale, "Sherlock, you need to stop him," he whispered.
"Don't worry," he replied, "I will- you need to get me those results as soon as you can, and then we can get to work,"
I blinked. I think I missed quite a lot.
"Sorry, what? What do you mean?"
He flashed me a grin, "get to work setting our trap,"
A/n: hope you liked this chapter, a review or two would be great xxx