Snowflakes and Semtex

Chapter One

"Morning, Zand," John said with a yawn.
"Don't speak to me until I've had at least two cups of tea." I barked. I was not in the mood for chit chat since I'd only had four hours sleep. I sort of shuffled over from my bedroom door to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. Dragging my feet behind me, I sat on the floor, head in hands. "Why does every single case we go on require me to not get any sleep for two days? I'm sure there's a law somewhere about ten to fifteen year olds having to get at least ten hours sleep a night. Honestly, criminals can't just wait to commit crimes till the morning can they?" I mumbled, half asleep.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" sarcastically groaned John.
"I hate everything and everyone." I glared at him. Peggy whined in the corner. "Well, you're the exception, Peggy. You're off the hook . . . for now. But if you chew my socks one more time, it's gonna be a whole different story, love."
"Shut up and drink your tea" John placed my mug into my hands. I sipped my tea with a scowl. John picked up his cup of tea from the kitchen counter and sat in his chair. "Let's have a look at the news then" he muttered to himself, flicking the TV on. "Mmmm, rain at four . . .  energy bills are on the rise . . . and some random thing about pigeons… it looks like we're gonna have a quiet Christmas!" THUNK
"What on earth was that noise?" I asked.
"I dunno, it came from mine and your father's room… and it's only him in there. Go and check in on him will you?"

I walked down to his room and opened the door just enough to be able to peer in. I opened the door fully to find Sherlock on the floor, surrounded in bedsheets. "You good?" I questioned, leaning on the doorframe.
"Hmmm? Yeah I'm fine. I . . . fell." he answered, embarrassed.
"Okay . . . I'll make you some tea" I smiled. He thanked me, wiping the drool from the side of his mouth. People who only see Sherlock in the media and in newspapers only ever get to see the well put together, fully functioning intellectual that he is. Only about eight people max get to see the childish dork that he is at home. Sometimes it's hard to believe that he's the same person.

After finishing his cup of tea, my father got in the shower and changed into his suit. This was the Sherlock the general public were used to seeing. He sat in his black, leather chair.

"BREAKING NEWS: Two flats were bombed yesterday. Nine deaths, including a small child, have been declared. The flats are still intact but residents are being asked to evacuate the area in case the building does collapse. Three people have been injured and are now in the ICU. It is unclear if this is the work of terrorists. Citizens in the area are being asked to come forward if they know anything about these horrific attacks." informed the newsreader on TV.

Sherlock's pupils dilated and a small smile danced across his face. "Zander, John, get ready. We've got a bomber to catch!" he beamed. After getting out of the shower, I put on my favourite outfit ( What? I have to look good! Even when catching criminals). I entered the living room as Sherlock finished up a phone call. "Alright, we'll be there in ten minutes. Bye."
"Who was that?"
"Thingy… police man ummmmm John's best man at our wedding AH WHAT'S HIS NAME?"
"Greg?"
"Yes. Him." This type of conversation happened on a daily basis. John strode into the living room.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready." Sherlock and I answered insync.

As we all ran down the stairs, Peggy following behind, I shouted down to Mrs Hudson, "Ello Mrs H! You wouldn't mind feeding my rats would you? Be careful with Miasma though, he's a bit shy still. Thanks!" I blurted, hardly letting her get a word in edgeways. Miasma was my new, fully grey, pet rat and I'd been given him as an early Christmas present from my dads. Sherlock waved her goodbye, grabbed Peggy's lead off the coat hook, and ran into the street to call a cab.
"Where to, sir?" asked the cabbie.