Give me life

John Watson: the detective

Dear blog, it's been over a week since I've seen that familiar writing on the inside of that skull. Whether I shouldn't have continued with my search is past my control now as the now clinically insane Anderson came over while I was doing further examination. He barged in spouting some random crap about how Sherlock could have prevented the fall when he noticed the skull cracked in half. If Sherlock had seen me crack his precious skull he would have gone off for months, so I'll have to find a replacement and Im sure a quick visit to Molly would work out fine. As for the note on the skull, I can only hope that he left me more clues around the flat or even possibly London. But that I do not yet know, but as soon as I figure it out, you'll be the first to know.

-J.W

I closed the laptop sighing into the thick air. I looked over to the counter which had papers on every corner, starting to pile off onto the ground. Couldn't he just have said where he was? "Hey, sorry I've been gone for two years but I'm staying over here if you ever want to see me again." But of course not, he was Sherlock; the bloody sociopath that makes his best friends who fear for his life play a little game before coming out of the shadows with a congratulatory 'you win!'. He was a pain in the arse for that, and acted as though the world was too dumb for him. But he'd never been that way with me. Ever since I met him he never said anything along the lines of what he said to others. I'd like to say I've learned to deduct things partially and maybe he thought that this would be easy for me, or maybe not. He is a pain in the arse after all, so he probably wanted this to take a long time.

I walked towards the skull sitting a top the counter and glanced on the inside once again. He put little markings of some sort that I thought might be Chinese or Japanese, but after extensive research I found nothing. The writing looks far more ancient than anything I've seen before, and there's one person I know that dabbles in ancient writing.

The London Museum of Ancient Art

I found my way into a small hall where I saw my friend looking at a display. She turned towards me and I saw her short blonde hair peeking through her sunhat that was nearly bigger than her body. She smiled and waved me down, book in hand. Mary was a historian in ancient writings of all kinds. She studied scriptures and ancient languages for nearly 20 years, and we were good friends at my short time during university. After being sent out to Afghanistan we kept in touch, sending letters and sharing experiences. I figured she'd probably have extensive knowledge of ancient languages and could probably decode Sherlocks message.

המסעדה האהובה עלינו

She looked over the markings scrawled over the skull. She starred puzzled for a few seconds, then her eyes went wide.

"John this is hebrew!" She exclaimed pointing to the scrawlings.

She raced off to the other side of the hall and i followed her, entering a small office pilled with books on ancient languages.

"I see you've kept up with all of... this."

"Ah yes, you couldn't keep me away from it if you locked all these books in a safe. I'd find a way to get at it somehow."

She fumbled around with a few books, tossing them when she didn't find what she wanted and stopped at an older looking book, blowing the settled dust on the cover.

"This is a hebrew dictionary." She said, with a content look on her face.

"So what does that mean?"

"It means we read through this whole thing and match up the symbols."

Now I'm not going to lie to you and say that it didn't sound like an amazing afternoon, because it wasn't. After a few hours of shuffling through pages and translating back and forth, we finally came to an agreement and the result made me feel as dumb as Sherlock thought everyone else was.

Our favorite restaurant.

Angelo's was the only restaurant we'd ever bother going to since we'd been friends, with us being on the go and all. And it was the only restaurant that Sherlock hadn't pissed off the manager of. The first time we'd gone the manager thought we were together which made me angry, but now I could see how he would think that. We were inseparable for so many years, and it was rare we'd go somewhere without each other. People like Moriarty threatened to kill me in that swimming pool, which drove Sherlock absolutely insane. He nearly took off all my clothes and treated me as a mother would treat her child after he'd been hurt. So after I said thanked Mary and said goodbye I made my way to Angelo's.

Angelo's

When i got out of the cab the manager was standing outside, fixing up a sign in one of the windows. He turned slightly and looked at me, nearly jumping out of his skin when he caught my eye.

"John! I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Ha, yeah well you know."

I stood awkwardly, hands behind my back and his smile slowly turned into a frown.

"Ah, I guess I should probably tell you why I'm here then. Is there somewhere more private?"

He smiled again and opened the door, pointing to a booth near the back of the restaurant. We sat down and I crossed my arms on the table, and leaned in to talk.

"I think I may have found something."

I grabbed the piece of paper I had shoved into my back pocket earlier and spread it out on the table.

"So?"

He seemed confused for a few second, then his eyes went wide with excitement."Yes! He brought me something before, well y'know. Follow me."

He brought us back to a room that was dimly lit. It had a desk, piled up with papers; the smell of fresh print filling the room. He made his way to a little safe under the desk, and brought it up placing it on the well worn desk. He turned the lock a few times, stopping at three numbers until I heard a click. Inside the safe two things; a picture of water and a laser pointer.

I stood, confused.

"What?"

The manager shrugged and gave me the items.

"He said you'd know what it meant."

"I don't"

He sat in the chair behind his desk and looked up at me.

"Do you think it's a gift or something? Because if it is, a laser pointer is a pretty crap gift if you ask me. But I remember playing with laser pointers as a kid. We used to point them at people, pretending we were snipers."

Snipers? Water? The pool!

I nearly ran into the door on the way out, making my way outside. The subway would take too long, and so would walking. If I cut through the park it would take away a couple of minutes, but what could get me there fast enough? I looked around scanning the area, when a guy rolled up with a scooter. I ran up to him, nearly scaring him right off and brought out a 50£ note handing it towards him.

"Can I borrow that?"

"You kidding me?"

I handed him the note and his eyes went wide, he got off the bike and threw me the keys.

"Make sure to bring it back!"He shouted as I drove off.

I drove through the park as I had planned, evading people walking through. I passed the street where I live now and found my way to the pool. It was rather late so no one should have been there, but when I got close I noticed an old car parked near the front. I parked and got off the bike to closer examine to car. It was an old black Subaru Leone with the paint partially chipped off. The mirrors were old and dusty and there was small holes near the back. I crouched down and noticed they were bullet holes. The area around them was dented and chipped and the bullets that followed through left through the top of the roof.

It's obvious that whoever owned this car had seen a lot of trouble, or else he would have tried to keep his car in shape. I made my way to the entrance, only to find it had been boarded up. I fumbled around with a few boards until I found one that was loose and oddly the hole was big enough for me to get through. Whatever or whoever was in here had taken good measure in hiding himself.