The Soldier and Consulting Detective

Neilson

The sound of a somber tune awoke me from my light sleep. I decided to stay with Sherlock in his flat for the time being since the death of Irene Adler. Sherlock had chatted with me last night and needless to say I fell asleep in Sherlock's chair. I let out a small hiss as I moved my neck, the muscles tight from sleeping in the chair. I let out a yawn as I rub the back of my neck, trying to release the tension. The music is still playing its sad yet beautiful melody. John and Mrs. Hudson walked in together and went for the table. Mrs. Hudson picked up the plate full of food and glanced at Sherlock before looking at John. They both shook their head slightly before carrying on with their tasks. The landlady offered the plate to me, which I graciously accepted. She handed me the lukewarm plate and I dove in, muttering thanks in the process. The music was abruptly silenced as Mrs. Hudson went to the kitchen,

"Lovely tune, Sherlock." She complimented. "I've never heard that one before."

"You composing?" John asked, putting on his jacket.

"Helps me to think." Sherlock replied from behind me.

Silence filled the room for a couple of seconds before Sherlock began playing his piece again. I ate the last strip of bacon quietly before making my way to the kitchen to wash the now empty plate. However, Mrs. Hudson took the dish from my hands and ushered me away. John glanced at me then let out a small sigh.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked quietly.

Sherlock kept playing but harshly stopped, turning towards us. He hands me his violin, a wild look in his eyes.

"The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five." He points out rapidly. He pushes past me, looking at my brother's laptop.

"Yeah, it's faulty. Can't seem to fix it." John explains.

"Faulty." Sherlock repeats, taking out Irene's phone. "Or you've been hacked and it's a message."

I roll my eyes and let out a groan. "That's not going to work, Sherlock."

Sherlock shushes me and proceeds to enter the numbers into the phone. The phone lets out a beep and Sherlock's shoulders drop slightly.

"It's just faulty." He mutters and grabs his instrument from my hands. He faces the window and lifts his violin to begin playing again.

"Right." John mutters, looking at me as I go closer to him. "Well, I'm going out for a bit. Want to come, Hazel?"

"Yeah, let me get dressed." I turn to the door and quickly get dressed. I throw on a cream sweater, tan trousers, and brown ankle boots. I grab a knife just to be on the safe side and put it in its holster on my side. Once satisfied, I grab my peacoat and meet John down the stairs.

"Ready?"

I nod my head and we go out the door. As I pulled it shut, a woman dressed in black calls out for my brother.

"Yeah?" He answers, facing the mysterious woman. I walk down the steps and place myself in front of John. "Hello." He says, mesmerized by the woman.

"So, any plans for the New Year tonight?" She asks suggestively.

"And who are you?" I demand, stopping her in her tracks. I glare at her but she gives me a smirk and brushes past me.

"Uh, uh, nothing fixed." John answers, looking around. "Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon." He says, zipping his jacket up. "Any ideas?"

The woman looks behind her and I follow her gaze. A black car pulls up and John groans slightly.

"You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex." He moves to the car as the woman goes around to the other side. I grab my brother's arm, preventing him from getting in that car.