John followed on Sherlock's heels as they strode through New Scotland Yard following Lestrade to his office. Lestrade had informed Sherlock that there had been another explosion similar to the one on Baker Street and that a strong-box had survived the impact. Inside the strong-box they had found a single envelope addressed to Sherlock Holmes.
In Lestrade's office, Sherlock was examining the envelope. John watched intently as the detective's eyes flitted from one part of the package to another so rapidly John had a hard time believing Sherlock could see anything at all. But of course, not only could Sherlock see, but he could observe everything about the envelope. John was hardly listening, but he did catch Sherlock describing the pen used.
"Her?" John asked, pulled from his daze, when he heard Sherlock mention the writer of his name was a female.
"Obviously," Sherlock responded without looking up at John. Really, John should be offended when Sherlock says this, but he simply can't be mad at the implication against his intelligence when it's muttered by such a beautiful voice. Sometimes John thought about asking ridiculous questions on purpose, just to get Sherlock to say that oh-so-sexy word.
Sherlock had produced a pen knife from his pocket and he gently eased it into the envelope, dragging it along the top, effectively opening the parcel. Inside was a mobile phone.
"Hold on...Is that?" John started to ask when he recognized the phone.
"No, but it was made to look like that phone." Sherlock was turning the phone over and over in his hands, examining the pink case with great care.
"You mean the phone from A Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked.
"Ye...A Study in Pink? You read his blog?" Sherlock dragged his eyes away from the phone to look back and forth between John and Lestrade. Sherlock had made it quite clear to John what he had thought of the blog during one of his boredom-induced tantrums last week. He had been especially angry at John for pointing out the holes in his knowlege base.
"Of course," Lestrade answered. Donovan had entered the office when Sherlock had asked his question and she was smirking in the direction of the detective. "We all do." Lestrade indicated Donovan and made a general wave in the direction of outside his office. Sherlock could only assume that he had meant that everyone in the entirety of NSY was reading about his cases on the "Personal Blog of Doctor John Watson."
"Do you really not know that we go round the sun?" Donovan asked, not able to bite back all her laughter. Lestrade chuckled to, and Sherlock fixed them both with a death-glare, but then he directed his gaze in John's direction.
John looked down sheepishly, he hadn't meant for his writing to give more ammunition to people like Donovan who made fun of Sherlock at any given opportunity. He had just been trying to shed some light on how Sherlock thinks. But it's the solar system, John had said when Sherlock had told him, and he had been so shocked that he couldn't help but write it down in his blog. Now he was regretting that decision thoroughly.
Upon seeing John's downcast eyes, and look of possible...guilt, Sherlock turned his attention back to the mobile in his hand. He discovered a voicemail. He played the message on speaker so that the others could hear as well. Beep... Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep... And that was the end of the message.
John, Lestrade, and Donovan were all looking rather confused.
"Is that it?" Lestrade asked, breaking the silence.
"No," Sherlock said as he opened up the photos app. He looked over the only photo in the library. Realization dawned on him. He held the phone at arms length to show the Inspector and John what he had discovered.
"What's that's supposed to mean?" Lestrade asked. But Sherlock was headed for the door of Lestrade's office.
"I've seen this place before." Sherlock said, mostly to himself, as he opened the office door.
"So what's the message?" Lestrade asked, trying to keep up as Sherlock walked quickly out of the office.
"It's not a message, it's a warning."
"A warning?" John voiced the question this time.
"Yes a warning. It's going to happen again."
"What's going to happen?" John was shaking his head slightly, trying to clear the confusion.
"Boom!" Sherlock responded and then turned his back on the others and headed towards the exit.
Lestrade was driving the 3 of them back to Baker Street. John and Sherlock sat in silence in the back seat, leaving Lestrade to his own thoughts. He glanced at the men in his car via the rear-view mirror, and noted their increased physical proximity. Sherlock had kept John close ever since they met, but never this close.
Lestrade watched them when he pulled up to a stop light. Sherlock was still gently examining the phone, and John seemed to be watching every movement intently. Sherlock's eyes would now and again dart to John's face, but John didn't notice. Lestrade was trying to read the expression on Sherlock's face, perhaps...concern?
When Sherlock's eyes glanced up and met Lestrade's pale blue eyes in the mirror, Lestrade attempted to play it off, by checking his side mirrors, and muttering something under his breath about traffic.
Of course Sherlock could see through his act. He wondered what the Inspector had been thinking while looking over Sherlock and John. Lestrade is not clever enough to piece together John and I's relationship...And even if he was, why does it matter? John's not ashamed of us...and neither am I.
In a rather bold move, Sherlock moved his free hand to John's knee. John was pulled out of the trance induced by studying the beautifully-long fingers clutching the mobile. He tilted his head slightly, but then decided better than to question it. He placed his hand on top of Sherlock's. Their hands sat still like this for a few moments, but soon John felt Sherlock turn his hand over so that their palms would touch and their fingers intertwined. John's heart raced, and so did Sherlock's.
Lestrade risked another quick glance at the boys in the backseat, and he saw them practically beaming at each other, leaned in closer to each other than they had been before. Lestrade nearly slammed on his breaks when he saw Sherlock raise John's hand in his to his mouth and place a small kiss on the top of John's hand.
Lestrade stopped glancing at them after that. He simply smiled to himself and thought about how good John had proven to be for the ex-drug addict. He was so glad that they had found each other.
Mrs. Hudson was back at the flat when John, Lestrade, and Sherlock arrived. Sherlock walked into her door without so much as a hello and started asking her about the unrented flat below John and Sherlock's?
"The person that you recently showed the empty flat to, Mrs Hudson, what did they look like?" Sherlock was rummaging around in one of Mrs. Hudson's kitchen drawers.
She came up next to Sherlock and swatted his hands away. "If you'd listen to me, I haven't shown anyone that flat in the past 6 months. I've all but given up on trying to rent it out. That's the trouble with basements..."
Sherlock was making for another drawer with the intention of assaulting this one as well. "Where's the key Mrs. Hudson?" He asked, wondering if it would be faster to find it himself.
Fortunately, Mrs. Hudson knew exactly where the key was and retrieved it. She lead the boys to the empty flat and unlocked the door.
"Someone's been in here recently," Sherlock mumbled to himself.
"But that's impossible, I've got the only key," Mrs Hudson responded, but no one was listening. The 3 men were making their way into the dusty living-space. Mrs. Hudson was left alone in the corridor.
John was stunned to think that his and Sherlock's flat was just as big as this one. He'd always thought of their flat as rather cramped and small, but now he was realizing that was just a symptom of the mass amounts of things Sherlock packed into their space. This flat was barren, save for a few dust-covered boxes, and one recent addition. A single pair of sneakers sat in the middle of the floor.
Sherlock began forward, but then hesitated a moment. He had thought back to the favor John had asked him on their first day spent lying in each other's arms. Please, in the future, show some concern for your life and limb. It would save me a lot of anxiety and possibly heartache. Sherlock would normally have just bounded up to the sneakers and started examining them without a care in the world, but he had remembered this request from John and the fact that they were currently dealing with a bomber so he decided on a more careful approach.
Sherlock eased forward step by step, trying not to disturb anything in the room. When he was a few feet from the shoes he leaned down and stretched himself out on his stomach. Easing himself forward a few more feet, his face was now level with and only a few inches from the mysterious shoes.
The tension in the room was almost tangible. John was watching Sherlock while trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. Lestrade stood close to John, his eyes darting back and forth between the doctor and the detective. He couldn't fail to notice Sherlock's new found caution, and he was attributing that to John. If he wouldn't have been so concerned about the situation at hand, he probably would have smiled at the thought that John was keeping Sherlock out of trouble.
Sherlock held his breath as he began reaching one hand towards the shoes. All three of them jumped when Sherlock quickly pulled his hand back and a ringing filled the flat.
John closed his eyes and let out the breath he'd been holding as Sherlock stood up and pulled the pink mobile from his coat pocket. He answered the call and put it on speaker. "Hello?" he said, almost a whisper.
"He...Hello...Sexy..." Woman's voice. Breaking speech, afraid and crying. Unrecognized voice, stranger. Sherlock's mind was racing as he listened to these first few words.
"Who is this? Why are you crying?" Sherlock glanced over at John and Lestrade who were listening intently.
"I'm...not...crying... I'm typing...and this...stupid...bitch is reading it." A small sob broke in the woman's shaking voice before she said the word bitch. Reading a message. Crying. Being used. Life threatened. In danger.
John let out a huff, and Lestrade had begun pacing back and forth.
"12 hours...to solve my puzzle...Sherlock," The woman on the phone stated. "Or...I'm going to be...so naughty..." The woman let out a final sob and then the line went dead.
John stepped towards Sherlock, who was staring at the silent phone in his hand. John started to reach his hand out to place it on Sherlock's shoulder, but before he made contact, Sherlock spun around. "We need to get to Saint Barts. Lestrade I'll be taking these," Sherlock indicated the shoes. "This is not the bomb...The woman is."
"Oh god... Let's get on it, I'll give you two a lift over there," Lestrade offered as Sherlock picked up the pair of sneakers. Together, the three of them returned to the police car and drove off to the hospital.