Baker Street Boys

Chapter 1- John

It was a typical day at 221B Baker Street. I was sitting in my chair, skimming the paper and enjoying a hot cup of tea. Rain could be heard tapping at the window, and it was the only thing I had heard for quite awhile. Sherlock sat across from me, one leg crossed over the other, with his hands pressed to his lips as if he were praying. I cleared my throat and folded my paper, setting it on the table beside me.

"Sherlock?" I said after hours of silence. All that greeted me was the same empty stare he had been giving me all day- cold and blank, yet somehow full of life. He was in his mind palace again. No use trying to make conversation.

With a heavy sigh, I got up and went to the kitchen. "Out of milk again," I mumbled to myself. "And bread... and butter... Sherlock, you were supposed to go to the grocery yesterday." Silence. "...Right then." I headed out the door without another word after grabbing my coat.

"John?" The shrill voice of our landlady called out to me just as I was about to go outside. "Is Sherlock alright, dear? It's been a few days since I've seen him." I offered a slight smile.

"He's fine, Mrs. Hudson. You know how Sherlock gets when he's got a case." It was true; sometimes he wouldn't leave his room- much less the flat- for days at a time. "You shouldn't worry about him."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and smiled. "Oh, I know I shouldn't, but I do. It's a good thing he's got you, dear. I don't like to think of him being left alone for too long." I nodded.

"Right. Good day, Mrs. Hudson." With that, I went outside into the rain. The frigid air made me numb as it filled my lungs, stinging my nose. My eyes caught sight of a black cab, and I waved it down as it neared. "Taxi!"

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I got back to the flat an hour or so later, and the rain was still falling steadily. I had to set the bags of groceries on the stairs to get the door open before shuffling in. "No, don't worry about me," I said sarcastically, "I don't need any help." No sooner had I set the things down in the kitchen than I heard his voice for the first time that day.

"I said, could you pass me a pen?" I frowned slightly.

"When?"

"About an hour ago." I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Didn't notice I had gone out, then?" Sherlock didn't answer. I threw him a pen and he snatched it out of midair in a blink. I hardly saw his hand move.

"This is one of the most challenging cases we've had in ages, John."

"You mean that you've had," I corrected him. "I don't know anything about it because you haven't told me anything. In fact, you haven't spoken to me since yesterday morning." I was used to his long periods of silence, but it still annoyed me to no end.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Has it only been that long? Hm." He got up and started pacing around, scribbling something down on a notepad. "Tell me, John, how does someone accomplish the task of being two places at once?"

I blinked and tilted my head, frowning in confusion. "What?"

"One man, caught on camera in two stores at the same time, miles apart. No close family. His card was used at both places, supposedly indicating that he had indeed been there. One video incriminates him, and the other proves his innocence..." He trailed off into silence again. My laptop was open and he had the two videos looping next to each other on the screen.

"Why are you using my laptop?" He turned to look at me.

"Don't bother me with trivialities right now, John. This man will walk free in..." He checked his phone. "4 hours if I can't prove he robbed this store."