In another room, not so plush, famous detective Sherlock Holmes was also staring at his computer as he was scrolling for information on Moriarty's web. Next to him, settled in his chair, John Watson was enjoying a cup of tea, all the while waiting for the detective to start sprouting some deductions. For the last four hours, nothing had been said as Sherlock was dutifully looking at his desktop. John sighed and shifted in his chair. This was the parts that were the least exciting during the cases: to wait for Sherlock Holmes to include him in his findings. Right now, there were no field trip, no suspect to interrogate, nothing to do but wait for the exasperating man to finish his computer search. John had already texted his wife three times to pass up the time and except for the call when he had quickly described the curious trip to Molly's before being cut so Mary could call the pathologist, his wife had not been a great help in alleviating the boredom of the past few hours. Suddenly, his mobile beeped. A new incoming message from Mary:
Molly's bed wasn't not in the right place when she came back into her room. What would the great detective deduce about that? :D
Well, that explained the loud thud that they had heard this morning as Sherlock was searching Molly's room. But indeed, would that be a demonstration of jealousy? John opened his mouth and Sherlock interrupted:
"John, do I have to remind you that we have a case? It's not the time to discuss gossip. And tell Mary to stop reading Anderson's blog, with her hormones-ridden brain, his ludicrous theories are even more damaging to her I.Q. than usual."
John's mobile beeped again and he read:
And tell Sherlock that I'm pregnant and stuck at home. I'm bored.
The fact that his wife and his best friend could converse without actually being in contact with each other had been bothering at first. But, as everything, he'd gotten used to it.
"She's bored." He said
"If she's looking for distraction, I'm sure that Mycroft has one or two assassinations he needs performed. Better, Mycroft is just a phone call away." Countered Sherlock still typing away on his computer.
"Sherlock. I hope you're not suggesting that you're going to throw my wife… my pregnant wife under the imperial bus that is your brother?" warned the army doctor.
"Hmm, no. He already has enough hitmen at disposal, I'm not going to give him mine." Grumbled the detective.
"You know that Mary is not the only one that is able to shoot you right?"
"I'm not completely sure you'd be able to avoid the kill shot so precisely… Oh that was a threat, right?"
John didn't answer this time. He opened the papers in front of him and started reading the headlines. He was thinking about his wife and was wondering if he would be stuck at Baker Street the whole day, doing nothing but waiting for Sherlock to find anything useful in his files. He was hungry. Sherlock didn't eat when he worked and couldn't fathom that others would be in another state of mind. More, he was bored. Maybe he should try and have Sherlock kick him out of the flat? He would go home, have a little snack and cuddle to his wife and listen to his daughter kicking. As he finished his reasoning, he dramatically closed the papers.
"By the way, I remember clearly that you said you were using Molly's spare bedroom." Started John. "That" he emphasized the first word "was not Molly's spare bedroom."
Sherlock stilled suddenly. He took a look at John and then demonstratively got up from his chair. He came in front of John and then settled in his own chair.
"What?" asked John suspicious of Sherlock's odd, well odder behaviour.
"Nothing John… Obviously, you feel a little ignored." Sherlock served himself some tea and took a sip. John turned red but didn't deny it. He opened the mouth to go back at the conversation about the pathologist but Sherlock cut in:
"We can stop for today. We'll go back at it tomorrow."
John suddenly felt he was being dismissed. This was unusual. Either the subject of the young woman in the morgue was a sore point or there was something from the case that Sherlock was hiding.
"Consideration? That's new. What's going on Sherlock?"
Sherlock immediately hopped from the chair and animatedly started pacing the room:
"Nothing John! There is nothing on those bloody files! All Moriarty's web is there, all those brutish thugs that I've spent two excruciatingly boring years destroying…."
"Never thought before that one could refer to two years of being regularly beaten to a pulp as such. Excruciating… yes but boring…" muttered John
Sherlock didn't notice. He wasn't even listening as caught on as he was in his own frustration.
"… Nothing more than an oversized gang. Such a disappointment! And now, we have that beautiful clever video teasing us and no, still NO SIGN of someone above blunt illiteracy!" kept on the detective. "I'm missing something! What am I missing John?" he dramatically turned to the blogger and pinned him with a look.
"You're sure there is nothing in the files? Did you maybe consider… asking Mycroft if he has some other relevant information that could help?" John winced as he uttered the name of the older Holmes brother. Sherlock shot him a dirty look. John looked apologetically at his best friend but didn't infirm what he just said. Sherlock finally relented and shrugged:
"Fine. I'll call brother dear." He sneered "Just thinking about his gloating… I hope there are still some thumbs in the fridge, it'll help me stomach the idea of his 'I'm the smart one Sherlock!'"
As Sherlock went to the kitchen to check in the availability of said extremities, John stomach growled. Sherlock turned and just spat:
"Okay, go home to your wife!"
As he was indeed being dismissed, John got up from his seat, put on his coat and left Baker Street.