Coming home to her door wide open and voices drifting out put Calvin on edge. She recognized the voices to belong to Sherlock, John, and Lestrade, but the fact that they were in her flat without permission made her nervous.
"He's a bomber, remember." she heard John's voice warn just as she entered the room. Oh that sounded just fabulous.
"Uh, context, please?" she said, walking in and smiling at the three men as they turned to stare at her.
Sherlock was looking down at a pair of shoes that were sitting in the middle of her floor. Calvin looked at him, at the shoes, then back up at him. "So are those yours or...?" she asked, coming to stand next to John in her flat. She nodded in greeting to Lestrade.
"Look." Sherlock snapped, thrusting a pink cased phone at her. There was a picture open. It was of the shoes, taken as they were now in her empty flat. Her eyes widened just slightly.
"I don't understand." she said slowly, forcing down a panic attack with all of her might. Somebody had been in her flat. She held one of two keys, Mrs. Hudson had the first on a keyring that she kept with her at all times, and Calvin obviously had the other. Someone got into her flat without the key. Which means they could do it again. It made her sick, not feeling safe in her own home.
"The bomber. The explosion from yesterday? The person responsible placed these here as a clue." Sherlock explained impatiently, snatching the phone back. He got down to eye level with the shoes... before the ringer went off on the phone he had just placed in his pocket.
The whole room tensed as Sherlock answered, a crying woman speaking to him from the other line. Calvin took a step forward to listen carefully, and learned that the bomber was speaking through this crying woman.
"Psychopath. Smart, secretive, professional psychopath. Enjoys theatrics. Word choice: naughty. Childish." Calvin mentally noted as the woman spoke for the bomber. Her mind analyzed the wordings and the first impression habits of the person behind this 'puzzle' as fast as it could, and she could only come up with that. Twelve hours. A time limit. He's testing Sherlock... a rivalry?
Sherlock replaced the phone in his pocket slowly, thinking for a moment before grabbing the shoes and heading for the door.
"Uh, bomber!" John yelled in alarm, staring at the shoes in horror. As he ran after Sherlock.
"Oh please, John, if this person wanted to kill me he would have already done so." Sherlock snapped, irritated.
"He won't kill you unless it's theatrical." Calvin muttered, following after them out the door.
"Yes, exactly. Wait, why are you following us?" Sherlock demanded, stopping in his tracks.
Calvin smirked at him. "A person broke into my flat with no sign of forced entry, and so happens to be the person who half blew me up yesterday night who also has given you a cell phone with which to contact you through a hostage. I'm not staying in my flat alone, are you mad?" she told him. Sherlock stared at her for a moment before reluctantly beginning to walk out the door again. "Besides. This is a high class psychopath. I work in psychology. I can help this time."
"She can come, Sherlock, for god's sake." John muttered. Sherlock ignored him.
Sherlock scoffed as Lestrade opened the door to his police car. Calvin sat in front with John and Sherlock in the back. "You can help. Well how do you know that this is, in fact, a 'high class psychopath'? It could be an amateur with a handful of good ideas." he retorted.
"Can you trace the call, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, turning around in her seat.
"No, he's too smart for that."
Calvin smiled. "Exactly my point."
OoOoOoOoOo
Calvin was relatively silent at Bart's as Sherlock worked on deciphering any and all clues om the shoes. She was thinking, thinking about anything other than the psychopath being in her flat that day. So she replayed the conversation Sherlock had with him through her head over and over, trying to pick any little traits about his way of speaking (or typing. It was the words that mattered, not the tone.) or operating.
Nothing came to mind besides her analyzation from earlier. Theatrical. Childish. Intelligent. Professional. A deadly mix for a killer. Of course, she could be wrong. That could be simply a persona he was putting on while 'speaking' with Sherlock. Calvin was doubting herself, and she declared the only descriptive word that was concrete was 'psychopath'. Perhaps not even that.
Doubt clouded her mind. She hated to be wrong, hated to make wrong assumptions. Being wrong reflected on a person forever. Make a mistake, and suddenly, everyone trusts you a little less. Calvin cursed herself for calling the man 'theatrical' to Sherlock. If she was wrong, he would remember that every time she said something. She was wrong about her almost-murderer, she was probably wrong again.
The machine next to Sherlock 'beep'ed and he had found a match for whatever he was looking for. Calvin jumped in her seat, and her head swiveled to the door as Molly strode in to check on Sherlock. A man followed after her...
"This is Sherlock Holmes. And, uh, I'm sorry..."
"John Watson."
"And, oh gosh..."
"Calvin Baker. Hi there."
Molly called the man Jim.
Sherlock barely looked at him, still staring through his microscope.
Sherlock called the man gay.
Jim soon left, and Molly confronted Sherlock on his calling Jim 'gay'. Calvin barely listen to Sherlock speaking, as her thoughts were elsewhere.
"Why do you always have to spoil everything?" Molly demanded, angry. Calvin looked up with disinterest. Sherlock's rebuttle was everything that the man had been or had done that insisted that he was, in fact, gay. Molly stormed out.
"No, Sherlock, that wasn't kind." Calvin heard John insist and Calvin chuckled under her breath. Both men looked up at her.
"It truly is a wonder why you don't have a girlfriend." she teased, running a hand through her hair. "Truly. Eighth Wonder of the World and all that, Sherlock." He glared at her, fixing the shoes next to him with one hand.
Calvin leaned forward just slightly. "You can figure out anything about anybody... except how socialization works." she told him. "Oh... yes, I forgot, you like to bypass the frivolties conversation. I suppose, in your mind, you were being kind to her. No beating around the bush as women do, no half-hearted encouragement even though you know the truth."
The two simply stared at her for a bit. She sighed.
"I'm sorry. I'm overtired. I have no idea what I'm saying." she said, waving her hand. "The fact that I've been threatened and almost killed more times in the past few days than a soap opera character won't be getting me much sleep, either."
She sighed, standing up out of the stool. "On that note, I'm going home. Good night, boys, hopefully I won't be the next person calling you from a psychopath's phone. Though it wouldn't exactly surprise me." she waved half-heartedly and had trouble opening the door before heading out.
"She needs to stay with us, Sherlock. At least until this guy's over and done with." John told him, looking after Calvin with concern. She was acting strange...r than usual.
"You say that every time, John." Sherlock growled. "If you want to get off with her just take her out for god's sake."
John scowled at him. "That's not what I'm trying to do, Sherlock." he snapped. "It's the right thing to do. The guy was in her apartment. She's obviously scared."
"He won't go after her. She's too close to me... proximity-wise."
"And what if he thinks that's just a more fun challenge, huh? She said it; he's theatrical."
Sherlock turned to him, exasperated and irritated. "For god's-We're right upstairs. Nothing will happen to her. We might as well invite Mrs. Hudson and the whole of Baker Street since you're so worried about it."
John crossed his arms. "Sherlock. He was in her apartment. He could be targeting her."
"If he wants her that badly he'll get to her whether she's nearer to us or not." Sherlock argued.
"If this is just your personal vendetta against her..." John started.
"I do not have a personal vendetta against her. I simply do not like unnecessary company or distractions."
"Sherlock. She needs to be protected, we don't know what this guy's gonna do."
"Invite the whole of London, then, John. We have no idea how he's going to strike next, why should we protect one person that has just as much chance as anyone else to be targeted?"
John simply stared at Sherlock, unable to find words to continue the argument. Sherlock took the opprotunity to change the subject.
"Go on then." Sherlock said, motioning to the shoes. John looked at him. "You know what I do, have a go."
John laughed without humor. "O-oh no. I'm not going to stand here while you try to humiliate me."
OoOoOoOoOo
BLAH IT'S FUCKING 5:43 IN THE MORNING I HAVE NOT SLEPT AND THIS CHAPTER FUCKING FUCKING SUCKS MY LIFE IS RUINED IM SO SORRY I MADE YOU WAIT DON'T HATE ME GAH.
My sleeping pattern is so fucked it's pregnant.
And my brother just got up for work this is embarrassing.
Time to type quietly.
Okay so tired Jess = tired Calvin and tired Calvin gets kinda mouthy. Moreso than usual. She's less inclined to keep herself mysterious. But less mysterious Calvin = found out Calvin because she'll start slipping tidbits that Sherlock will inevitably pick up. Oh gawd. Calvin, Calvin SLEEEEP.
But Sherlock like genuinely doesn't like Calvin, and that's fun to write.
Okay Im literally like dying of death right now I need to sleep. Im sorry Im a shitty writer. Please review and thanks bunches for all your reviews, favorites, and follows you gaiz rock.
kbye love you
Very tired and loopy because the sun is fucking coming up Jess