"": dreams.
Italics: thinking.
Bold: Letters and notes.
-/-: time lapse.
Chapter 5- Movie night.
Watching movies together, had become a thing for John and Sherlock to be caught doing nowadays. The morning of, Sherlock would chose a selection of movies from their impressive selection they had managed to build. John would then pick three out of that pile that he wanted to watch. Sherlock would then make the final decision of what they were going to watch. Most times the movie was either some childish nonsense or a very interesting crime adventure. Although completely out of character for both men, they used this time to collect their thoughts, and have time to get away from the cases that plagued their minds day to day. Tonight's movie was Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, one of John's favourites apparently. Sherlock could see why though, a mad scientist that creates a machine that could make food out of water, it goes ballistic, flies up into the sky and creates food ten-times as big as it normally would. Sherlock had laughed the first time John had asked to watch it with him, but agreed to it anyway. He had to admit it was an interesting movie, the pure science behind it was intriguing, he wondered if it was at all possible. Sherlock turned to see Mrs Hudson at the door, watching the two with a soft smile. Sighing, he got up quietly and walked over, however John didn't seem to notice, already thoroughly engrossed in the movie.
"You sure love your movie nights don't you Sherlock?" she asked quietly. Sherlock gave her one of his trade mark smile.
"It's one of the only times I've ever seen him completely relaxed and forgetful of the outside world." Mrs Hudson hummed in response, handing Sherlock a letter.
"This was slipped under the door. Now I haven't open it, but its address to you" smiling once more she turned and made her way down the stairs.
"Thank you Mrs Hudson" he said, turning and walking back to the couch, careful not to disturb John as he got comfortable again. Opening the letter, he was met by a riddle,
I'm teary-eyed but never cry.
Silver tongued, but never lie.
Double-winged, but never fly.
Air-cooled, but never dry.
What am I?
A look of shock and confusion travelled across Sherlock's face. Why a riddle? Am I supposed to answer it? There's no sender. It's probably just a joke. Sherlock conversed with himself, until John pulled him away by asking him a question. He looked up to see Johns lips move but no words come out. It took a while but finally the world came back. Seeing that he had not been heard properly, John repeated the question.
"I asked if you wanted to get dinner. The movies over, we could start a new one if you wanted to, but I, for one, need food" Without waiting for a reply, or knowing he wouldn't get one, John got up and walked to the draw they kept all of the take-out menus in and picked up his favourite. Although the menu was packed full of choice they always seemed to get the same thing. John always got honey chicken and rice, while Sherlock got a special beef fried rice, with extra egg and bacon. Sherlock listened as John ordered, smiling to himself as he heard John order for him, already knowing his usual. He didn't normally eat, but for some reason whenever they had their movie nights, John got him to. He had taken a liking to beef fried rice, although he had never eaten it as a child. The last time he had eaten Mycroft had looked at him with some sort of distain and comment on how he could eat the food of a back allay restaurant. Sherlock had then proceeded to shove a spoon full of the rice into his brother's mouth to shut him up. Remember what John had said, Sherlock moved over to the pile of movies that made up the watch list and picked one of, dare he say, his favourite. He placed the disk into the player and sat back on his chair, waiting for John and the food to arrive. The usual knock at the door indicated to both men that the delivery person stood outside. John opened the door with his usual smile and grace. He said thank you and paid for the meal, hurriedly closing the door and placing the take-out on the table. Sherlock watched as John hurried around the kitchen getting plates and preparing the meal, although being take-out John still liked to serve it like any other meal. He brought both plates back over to the two couches and handed Sherlock his while sitting in his chair. Upon grabbing the plate Sherlock noticed that John had slipped some of his chicken onto it, and some of his had been put on Johns plate. John had always told him how good the chicken was but Sherlock had never tried it, but now he did. The usual theme music started to play of the movie as, Now You See Me, started to play. He would never be able to tell you why he liked this movie, he just did. It was another one of those movies that intrigued him. Magic, deception and mystery, all catered to his inner child.
"John, I have come to the conclusion that we might be dealing with a vampire after all." Spluttering was heard from Johns place on the couch. Sherlock turned to see John staring at him in disbelief.
"B-But you don't believe in vampires! You're messing with me aren't you?" Sherlock smiled and shook his head. He did indeed think there was a vampire involved, he didn't fully believe himself however, until the riddle. One which he read in one of the many vampire books he had been reading. The riddle's an easy one if you think of it, it depicts of the one thing that can kill a vampire. Funny isn't it? That a vampire can be killed by such a small thing like that. John still stared at Sherlock in disbelief, so he decided to explain.
"I have gone over every possibility as to what could have made those marks on the victim's necks, I've researched, yes using your computer John, every possible tool that could be used. There was only one thing however that kept popping up every time I searched. A vampire, John. Those marks fit perfectly with a vampire's. I know someone like me would normally never believe such a low-class fairy-tale like a vampire, but then I received this." Sherlock held out the note he had received for John to grab. John read over the riddle, frowning in confusion. "If you were paying any attention to the books I have had you reading the past couple of days John, you would notice that this poem is mentioned more than once with each book. I did not make the connection however as to why, until I received it today. This riddle John, depicts how to kill a vampire. Now, either we have a vampire hunter telling us how to kill our murderer, or we have a very real vampire showing us he is indeed real." John continued to look at him in confusion. "Oh think John, the letters! The one at the crime scene, the one today. One telling me to believe, the other showing me something that only a vampire or someone heavily into the belief of vampires would know"
"So you're saying you believe in vampires now?" John asked, his voiced laced with concern.
"Maybe not in the very existence of vampires but that there is a person out there with Vampiric tendencies" John sighed, he knew Sherlock didn't truly believe in vampires. Hell would freeze over first before Sherlock believed anything Anderson made a comment about. John watched as Sherlock turned back to the movie. He too turned back towards the television screen, to see one of the main characters being interrogated by a policemen.
"So are you going to tell Lestrade about your findings?" Sherlock scoffed at the very idea.
"Of course not John, he would think I've gone mad. No, I will find who is really behind these killings and stop them, just like I always do"
"Like we always do."
"Right, we always do" John gave Sherlock a look that said he didn't believe him. Seeing this out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock smirked. He would never tell John, but he valued his opinion above most people. Sherlock thought about their relationship. If someone were to walk in here and see us now, they would think us a couple, he thought to himself not bothering to keep the laugh that the thought gave him in. John looked at him suspiciously.
"What are you laughing about?"
"The movie John, the movie" he replied instantly. Both men went back to watching the movie becoming engrossed almost straight away. In his head Sherlock spoke along with the characters, saying their lines. He didn't know why but his mind found them important so it hadn't deleted them yet. Turning away from the movie once again he looked over at the note one final thought entering his mind. Who could have sent me it and why?
Hey Everyone! Here's another chapter just for you! I really hope you guys are liking this, I would love to hear more from you about it, it would not only keep the chapters rolling but it would also tell me if I'm doing a good job. Thanks to everyone who is reading this, I love you all! Please read, review, follow and favourite!
Soul :)