Natural (vamplock)

Chapter 1: The Vampire Chase

It was a snowy January afternoon when this whole ordeal started as I've mentioned before. I had woken up later than usual but decided to lay in bed for quite some time. When I did decide to take a trip to the loo and complete my morning routine, I made my way downstairs, only to be greeted by the sight of my flatmate curled in a ball on the couch, his back to me and his face squished into a cushion. My first thought was that he was pouting; perhaps an experiment had gone wrong or his brother, Mycroft, had dropped in for an early morning visit I wasn't awake for.

I never did find out what was going on in my friends' mind -I never do, but that's besides the case- and whatever it was, I didn't much care for it. Instead, I ignored him as he was ignoring me and busied myself in the kitchen with a cuppa and some breakfast. Well, the correct term would be lunch, considering it was around 11:30 when I had begrudgingly gotten up. I made a plate of eggs for Sherlock Holmes, despite knowing that he probably wouldn't touch it.

I won't bore you with the details of my breakfast, except that I ate quickly and moved to my chair, where I found the morning paper laid out on the coffee table. An hour of silence passed and I began to worry a bit, Sherlock never granted me an hour of silence unless we had a case and, well, we hadn't had a case for at least two weeks. And as I constantly reiterate- my friend gets quite bored and irritated without a stimulus, so stemmed the reason for my concern. It was then that I realized with a sigh, that he was in the mind palace he so fervently talks about.

Seeing as he wasn't going to move anytime soon, I went out to run some errands, returning some to hours later to my flatmate still projecting the appearance of sulking and blissful silence. Unpacking the groceries I had bought (yes, I can use a chip and PIN machine- that was one time), the silence of this snowy January afternoon was ruined by a loud, persistent knocking from downstairs, followed by a shout from our landlady, Mrs. Hudson. I paused in my chore and listened, attempting to put into practice the deducing skills Sherlock has so lovingly endeavored to teach me. It wasn't hard to hear what was happening- the commotion was loud enough to wake the dead- and it had captured my attention immediately. Like I've said so many times before, I had only myself for company because my friend was inactive on the couch. A door slammed shut on the first floor, drawing me from my thoughts, and the distinct, heavy footsteps of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade thundered up the seventeen stairs leading to 221b.

I quickly set the box of tea bags I was holding back on the counter, next to the white plastic bags from the grocer. The frantic 'knock knock knock' sounded and I muttered a quiet "I'll get it." and moved to get the door, only to be all but thrown aside by a whirlwind of blue. The next thing I know, Sherlock had flung the door open and towered over the shocked DI, his arm raised to knock. Evidently, the ruckus downstairs was enough to cause my friend to leap up with a sudden burst of life and fling the door open with the enthusiasm of a little boy at his birthday, his silk, cloak-like robe fluttering around his ankles. Recognizing Lestrade, Sherlock's eyes seemed to light up. "George!" he exclaimed, almost gleefully.

Lestrade's mouth opened but he made no sound, shocked at the speed of which Sherlock had answered the door. I almost laughed- even I knew that he was coming, he made it sound as if a whole herd of elephants was tromping up the stairs to our flat. Lestrade quickly recovered and his jaw tightened into an annoyed grin. "It's Greg, Sherlock." he sighed. Sherlock huffed and almost begrudgingly, maneuvered to the side, allowing Lestrade to enter, though his eyes still shimmered with restrained excitement. "Good afternoon, John." I nodded and gave a small smile before returning to my chore of unpacking the week's groceries.

Sherlock ushered Lestrade to sit in the 'client chair' as it was so conveniently named, and I noticed that my friend had left the door to swing shut on its own accord. I fondly shook my head and resumed my aforementioned chore, listening to the slightly muffled conversation in the living room.