Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 6

 I spotted Lestrade from across the room and my stomach began to churn. Sherlock and John continued walking at a normal pace but I slowed down so that I was shuffling along behind them, I wasn't particularly looking forward to this encounter. I wasn't exactly sure how prolonging it would help but it was worth a shot.

Greg looked up and immediately launched into conversation with Sherlock and John, he was yet to acknowledge my presence.

 "Ah, Sherlock; John! Good to see you!" he beamed waving a calloused hand in greeting. I felt bad, clearly he worked hard and, judging by the bags under his eyes, he'd had many a sleepless night over his job. "This way if you will.". We were then guided into a small room that held a full wall of glass looking out over the city. In front of that wall was a desk that carried a black corded phone, black desk lamp and, you guessed it, a black laptop. I got the feeling that he was quite a simple man but the stacks of paper scattered around the place suggested that he was not an organised one. "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Lestrade spoke, all traces of friendship gone from his face, he was strictly professional.

 "Obviously." Sherlock muttered as if expecting him to know better

 "The you'll love this. That explosion last week..."

 "Gas leak, yes?" Holmes said with the utmost confidence whilst he briefly exchanged glares with a woman who had dark skin and a curly afro hair-do. She quickly made her exit after collecting the papers that she had set out to get.

 "No." Greg snapped, frowning slightly at Sherlock's interruption. I watched as Sherlock's face dropped, eyes squinting and brows furrowing. It could have just been my imagination but I could have sworn I saw those chocolate brown curls- that I now knew were quite famous after reading some of John's blog posts- droop like a basset hound's ears.

Stepping further into the room, he replied in shock "No?". When Sherlock moved John and I moved with him which meant that I was a foot closer to Lestrade discovering that I had invaded his space.

"No. Made to look like one."

"What?" I muttered under my breath. I had been hounded about this by my Mum when she was trying to convince me that living London was a dangerous idea. "Can't trust that big city plumbing," she whittled, chasing me around as I packed my belongings, "there's so much to look after that the Government can't keep up.". "And don't get me started about the terrorist plots!" she would exclaim, but here I was. Hearing about these things that, now that I was permanently stuck here, was admittedly much scarier than hearing about them back in Brighton.

While I was locked inside my  memories everyone seemed to have dispersed to various points in the office which left me exposed just inside the doorway. Great. Sherlock was examining a white envelope that sat on a set of drawers, twirling it around in his long slender fingers; everyone else seemed to be doing to seem to an extent. I was safe for now.

"You haven't opened it?" the detective questioned

"It's addressed to you isn't it?" the D.I. Stated and now that I looked close enough I caught sight of his name that was elegantly written on the front of this rather expensive looking envelope. "We've x-rayed it. It's not booby trapped." he commented.

"How reassuring." Sherlock mumbled under his breath before noting "Nice stationary. Bohemian." as he observed every angle of the mysterious package.

"What?" Lestrade asked, not quite catching Sherlock's memo.

"From the Czech Republic." Holmes re-enforced his words, "No fingerprints?"

"No.". No? How can someone not leave fingerprints? Oh! They might have been wearing gloves. Idiot! Meanwhile, in the real world, Sherlock had his face about two millimetres away from the front of his case, examining his name