Wandering around the miniature flat, John was once again amazed at the attention to detail in it. He'd gone into the bedroom and discovered an extremely comfortable bed. Trying it out, John found that it was unlike any other bed he had ever slept in. His mind drifted back to the days he'd had no bed at all. He would have traded anything for a bed like this back then. A sharp ringing sound broke through his thoughts, shattering the memories. He sat up in surprise before realizing it must be the phone Sherlock had left him. As fast as he could, he exited the miniature flat. For a second John was thrown off by how large everything was outside, but he quickly recovered. Moving over to the phone, he pressed his hand against the screen to accept the call.
"John?" Sherlock's voice came through the speakers with a slight, mechanical crackle.
"Yeah, I'm still here." John replied, tapping the edge of the phone, suddenly nervous. Communicating through one of these again was bringing up certain memories he'd rather leave undisturbed.
When he had fought during The War, they often used cell phones to communicate. The research and development crew were very handy when it came to repurposing human bean technology, among other things. Many battles hinged upon swift instructions being delivered accurately.
John snapped back to reality when Sherlock's voice came again through the speakers.
"I'm just going to speak to Lestrade about the case, I thought you might like to listen in."
Suppressing the memories, John took a breath before replying, "right, of course."
"I'm putting you on speaker, just stay quiet and we'll be fine."
John nodded even though he knew Sherlock couldn't see him. A loud crackling came through the speakers, he assumed from Sherlock situating his phone. Then he heard a voice he recognized as the detective from his home. When he was stuck with all the tea. That felt like such a long time ago now.
"Hey, Sherlock. Are you here about the case?"
"Yes, I just thought I'd let you know who the perpetrator is." Sherlock's voice was casual and almost aloof. John couldn't help but crack a small smile at his antics.
There was a pause.
"Well, start explaining." Lestrade sounded more resigned than anything. He certainly wasn't irritated. John wondered if he was used to this kind of behavior from Sherlock.
John heard Sherlock huff over the speaker, as though he were annoyed or disappointed. But he continued on like everything was normal.
"It was the cleaning lady." He stated matter-of-factly.
"The woman who found the body?" Lestrade was doubtful. "Why would she report it if she was the one who did it?"
"I'm not certain on that point. But what I do know is that the house has not been cleaned for at least four days, judging from the dust buildup alone. I also found no traces of any standard cleaning chemicals in the samples I took. The victim did not have a cleaning lady, of that I am certain."
Sherlock explained all of this quickly. There was a short pause as Lestrade mulled it over.
"All right, I'll have them bring her in for questioning. At the very least she's a suspect."
"Call me when you have her." Was Sherlock's curt reply.
John heard the rustle of fabric and assumed Sherlock was on the move. He remained silent, waiting for the other man to tell him the coast was clear. As John sat by the phone, he wondered about the case. Did the supposed "cleaning lady" really kill that old bean? If so, like the detective had asked, why would she report it? Something fishy was going on, John was starting to get a very bad feeling about the whole affair.
"So, are you hungry? I can pick up some food on my way back if you are." Sherlock's voice sounded through the speakers, but John did not hear. That bad feeling he had, it wasn't just because of the mysterious case.
The sense. That feeling that he was about to be seen.
With a jerk, John turned towards the door. The handle moved ever so slightly, betraying the presence on the other side. Cold fear shot down his spine, freezing him in place.
"John!?"
Sherlock's voice was suddenly sharp and loud. It was like a shock to John's system, jolting him awake.
"Are you still there?" A note of urgency broke through the speakers, despite Sherlock's efforts to sound calm.
"Someone's here." John finally said, sounding remarkably calm himself. And then he ran.
The only place to hide was the miniature flat, so that's where John went. He hurried into the bedroom and closed he curtains. Then he waited.
AN: Hey everyone! IM BACK! I'm so so sosososSOSOSOOOO sorry ;-; I know I dropped the ball on this one, but I hope to finish this fic sometime this year :P I got a sudden inspiration at work about where this story is going to go. It's a lot more involved than I originally planned, but also a WHOLE lot more interesting for you guys (I hope)! Please bear with me and my far between updates DX I'm just a poor and overworked college student I will update when I am able. Love you guys!