Constellations Strung With a Shooting Star | Sherliam

Chapter Twenty-Five

[deeply sorry for the long wait, it shouldn't be *that* long again! between this and the next update, i'll also be publishing a new oneshot into my sherliam oneshots book, so check that out if you're interested (when it comes at least) <3]

Shortly after John and Sherlock discussed the Lord of Crime, Mary dropped by and Watson decided to take her out on a date to the nearest park. A bit odd to do at a time like this, but the doctor figured that it wouldn't be all that safe if Mary was out on her own at this time. The amount of crime raging through the city is downright horrific, and women tend to be easy targets for criminals.

It hadn't been long since then, and Sherlock's just been slumped against his chair since, smoking away at multiple cigarettes to pass the time. There's nothing for him to do until William reaches out to him, and that event shouldn't be too far now.

Although, it turns out coming sooner than he expected, Hudson coming into the office holding a telegram. She wears a confused expression, unsurely presenting it to the detective. "This came in for you," she explains, and then heaves out a deep sigh, "honestly, I don't know what to make of it. There's no name attached, so I don't know who it's from.. And it seems like utter gibberish to me."

As it's likely meant to be. Holmes presumes that the telegram is written in a way that only he'd be able to decipher and interpret, considering Miss Hudson wasn't able to. He snatches the telegram, taking it into his hands and opening it in a snap. "Aye, thanks. Bit sooner than I thought it'd be," he murmurs, eyes narrowing as he reads over the contents of the message. "Ah. It's in code," he then remarks, nodding his head in sudden understanding.

"Really? Odd," the other hums in reply, crossing her arms, "I don't see why they did. I was told it was very urgent that it gets to you, and yet it's written in nonsense code. Seems a bit unreasonable to me." A curious look then crosses her face, as she looks on to Sherlock to possibly hear what it says. To her dismay, Sherlock only reads it to himself, not uttering a word of the translation aloud.

After reading it through twice, he discards it into an empty pocket. With that, he picks himself up onto his feet, his hands falling into both of his trouser pockets. "I'm going to be heading out for a few minutes. Shouldn't be too long," he notes to Hudson, immediately earning an astonished and utterly perplexed expression from her.

"What? You're deciding to go out now-? The sun's setting," she mumbles, shaking her head in a bit of disbelief, "I won't stop you, but please be careful. The nights have been especially restless and dangerous, you know." She crosses her arms, as she attempts to lecture Sherlock all she can. But as usual, it's in one ear and straight out the other.

Holmes is also honestly surprised that she wasn't able to catch that he's merely heading out because of the urgent telegram, but oh well.

"I'll be careful, yeah," he replies passively, waving his hand absentmindedly and it winds up buried back in his pocket again. His steps trail him out of the office and down the stairs, and eventually out of the entrance. Indeed, the sun is in fact setting by now, faint orange hues barely beginning to paint the sky.

He walks down the street, rounding the corner towards Melbourne Road. And there, right between where Baker Street and that road meet, is what could only be a noble's carriage. As he approaches it, multiple breaths are taken. Breaths of preparation, and perhaps a tinge of hesitance.

It's a bit unnerving to think that William is inside, as he can sense how dampening this interaction will be. Even more so than when they were in Milverton's county house.

After a few moments, he clears his throat and speaks up. "It's me. Sherlock Holmes," he announces, and within only a matter of seconds, the door flies open. His mind's already expecting to see William behind it, but his eyes instantly fail to match that.